voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post April]

A New Platform [Intro Post April]

On the Train

Once again passengers are awoken by the morning announcement.

"Good morning passengers, it is day Sixteen of the month of Kazoo. Points have been updated on the system."

They have indeed, and everyone can spend the morning shopping. Those who have been on the train for a while will also be expecting the second announcement that comes after lunch. A lunch that may be a bit sparse: between the big eaters and the stress bakers, the stores have been stretched thin the last two weeks.

"Shortly arriving into a designated void platform. Exit from void in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." A lurch and a jolt and the windows fill with the fog that means they are at a platform. The steam is thin, with blue skies seen above. The sun shines brightly down, warm light pooling on the platform.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers: Cassie Lang, Glorfindel, Jessie Custer, Olivia, Paddra Nsu-Yeul, S’reee, Thea Queen, Wei Wuxian.

But on the platform itself there are new faces. Wearing hoodies in all four colours, in various states of confusion.

For New Passengers

At first all they can see is steam, billowing around them as they come to their senses. As their eyes adjust, they will see they are on a platform, open, with a vine-covered wall stretching high either side of the barrier. In front of them is a single track extending both ways into thick fog.

They are standing, in clothes that are not their own and a style they might not even recognise. They are carrying a rucksack on their back. For a moment it seems to just be them, alone in the white haze; then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large, and seems smaller with eighteen figures scattered around. All facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. To both the left and right, tracks disappear into the mist.

A roaring sound, and out of the fog arrives a train. Jet black with gold writing on the side. The Voidtrecker Express. There is a hiss as the doors slide open and out step a strange assortment of people. Some are human, some are less so. Most are wearing the same hoodie in one of the four colours, red, orange, blue and purple, though some are sporting different clothes in a variety of styles. The doors close behind them.

The Train

After a short time, the doors hiss open again. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there's anywhere else to go, and even if there was, you feel a pull. A need to board, a feeling that staying on the platform would lead to something terrible. If that is not enough, there are plenty of people on the platform now, to encourage them onto the train.

Each ICP shows the same message and next to the screens there are stacks of leaflets written by those on the train, with further information (see
'Publications'). The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, including plenty more tomatoes.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. There is a suitcase stocked with spare wash kit items, for those who are running low as well as a box labelled Do Not Use Yet that is full of small bags.

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. They may need to negotiate for beds, especially if they want a top bunk! Room is tight but there are storage cubbies at the head of each bed, beds fold up and the bottom bunks double as benches for the small table. There is storage under those benches full of spare blankets and pillows.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers who are making the most of the sunshine. The doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, but they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view again as it picks up speed.

"Welcome aboard, passengers of the Voidtrecker Express." A female-coded artificial sounding voice echoes throughout the train. "Please take the time to read the passenger information displayed on the Information and Communication points and familiarise yourself with the layout and emergency exits."

The train begins to tilt, leaving the ground and rising up into the fog-filled sky.

"Entrance into Voidspace imminent. New passengers are advised to remain seated. Entry into Voidspace in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

A shudder, a jolt, a lurch to the left. A flash of light, colourful and blinding. As quick as it happens it is done. The train seems to steady itself. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

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Alley has actually followed Murphy for a few cars, listening to his commentary with growing amusement. Not really on purpose, they just happen to be going the same way. But in the garden car, the glass houses crack actually gets an amused snort from her.

"Believe me, there's plenty around here who would throw them, too."

He turns to look at her, and while it's not really a knock? He has seen zombies less beat up than this woman. Murphy himself has a torso full of excruciating-looking bitemarks but wow. That looks like it's gone a little bit of everywhere. Her hearts still beating though, he can tell, so he's guessing that's all worked out for her.

(Technically his does too, but sluggishly, slow, at a pace that should work for no human and especially one with as much energy as him.)

"Lots of people with glass houses, too, I bet. All packed in here? I bet it's like primetime reality TV... I'm sorely going to be disappointed if there's no popcorn."

Alley pauses, too, her rucksack from her own arrival is actually slung over one shoulder, held there by her singular, gloved hand. "I'm not sure what popcorn is, but I'm sure you could order it from the shop."

Nor does she know what TV is, but, one must pick their battles with these things.

"Brand new, I take it?"

"All of these confinement luxuries and no popcorn? I guess it was too much to ask." It's been six years. He'll just accept his losses.

He nods, pursing up his mouth and tipping his head to notice that she has pointed ears. Then his nostrils flare as he sniffs the air. She's- well, he's sated right now, not particularly hungry, but he's still keen enough that he can tell she's not human.

Is that dog smell on her, too? From somewhere? When was the last time he saw an actual living dog?

"Yeah. I'm new to whatever operation this is." He gestures around him loosely, pulling a doubtful face. "This kind of thing happens a lot, so whatever. I guess this is what's happening now. Who are our noble leaders that are probably going to be dead within the week?"

"I mean, there might be some around here, but I wouldn't know it. Most things here are pretty alien to me."

Not being from any version of Earth, and all.

"--Ah, you're used to weird shit, too? No actual leaders, the train itself takes us places and mostly lets us figure it out from there."

Directions on their SCA aside, but those are often pretty vague. An exclamation mark on a map isn't much in the way of an order, and that's probably just as well. People might do the opposite out of spite if they thought it was an order.

"I see you're on the same team I am. Red team's usually just sent out to kick ass, but nothing stops you from tagging along with the other teams if something they're doing suits you better."

Hey, he could be a super-powered alien who flies and shoots lightning from his eyes for all she knows. Or he could be a non-combatant, though that would be strange for red team. Still. One really can't tell from looking at someone in their brand new train uniform.

"Okay, so are you actually an alien?"

Aliens had, in his world, been largely debunked. But it was hard to tell for certain because why would people bother to show up there after the mess that they (and especially him, okay, he'll admit it) made of the planet.

"You just have a lot going on and I can't tell and you don't feel human." He motions around his own head as he speaks. "Hey, I'm not human myself. No judgment... Well, not anymore."

It was hard to tell anything, really. He's sort of gleaning a 'do whatever the fuck you want' vibe, which he can get behind, because he was really planning on doing whatever the fuck he wanted anyway. Within reason. That wouldn't raise a lynch mob because those were incredibly inconvenient.

"You and I aren't from the same world, if that's what you mean."

That's an easy enough call to make. For one, he wouldn't essentially be asking what she is. For another, she's never seen a red... human? non-human who looks like a human? before.

"Most people here are from different worlds than each other, with a few exceptions. A lot are from some version of Earth or another, but I am not."

"Riiiiiight."

He holds up a finger.

"Are you familiar with the term 'zombie'."

Because if she's not familiar with what he is? Or who he is? That is golden. He's here because of a clerical mistake! Now, of course, having been to prison for mail fraud and been the subject of horrendous experiments because of it, he knows if the mildest of containment can lead to terrible things.

But oh man, if no one here even knows what 'The Murphy' is? Just amazing. Fantastic. If they don't know what a zombie is? Even better.

"I am."

Sorry, Murphy.

"If you're saying you're undead, you're rather well-preserved compared to what I'm used to. And wordy."

"I have a good skin-care regimen."

Dammit. At least he's still got the one point that, at the moment, he's unrecognizable. He thinks. Please be unrecognizable.

"...Okay, how many people here would shoot first and ask questions later? Because I'd really prefer they do the whole question part thing to happen."

Either he could answer them or get the hell out of there or something.

"Probably none, not over being undead. We've had at least one vampire here, too. And a... lich? I think? Just as passengers, same as you."

So not prisoners, either, which is a fear she's more than familiar enough with to go there, even unprompted. Alley's been slapped in irons more than once, herself.

"I'm an elf, by the way. You seemed to be circling around that question earlier."

"A lich?"

And passengers? They didn't sound like passengers to him, but whatever. Free food. Free board. Clean clothes. He's been in worse conditions. He'll deal with the shit once its broken the fan. He's got a feeling it's already being flung into it and it's just a matter of time.

"What else do you got?"

A vampire? Seriously? You know what, shit is all over the place.

And Alleyana, while she hasn't actually talked to very many people on the train, all told, has been observing everyone around her carefully since her own arrival. Observing and listening to, like she'd been listening to Murphy before she'd chimed in.

"Well, there's a ghost kid, an angel, a fish person, a handful of robots, a few cat people, a talking actual cat, a massive spider person, a duck person, a blue guy, a purple lady, at least one actual demon... and probably a lot of shit I haven't even found out by name yet."

Ask questions at your own peril, Murphy.

"And now a red zombie guy, apparently."

He will, in many ways, fit right in.

"Fair warning... if you ever try to bite me, I'm taking your teeth."

That last bit is in the same factual tone as the rest of what she's said. Water is wet, sky is up, the Inquisitor doesn't make idle threats. This isn't an intimidation attempt, either, it's just a very casual warning.

"Oh good, it took three seconds for the threats to start." He rolls his eyes and sags a little. Welp, it's to be expected.

"Sure, but.... bad news. Either I can put them back in or they grow back. Gross, I know, works out pretty good for me."

The comment about threats gets a shrug from Alley. Hey, she's used to only one kind of zombie; they usually come shuffing out of the swamp at her, fully intent on murdering whatever disturbed the water.

Two kinds, if you count her horse, which she does.

"Sorry, just what I'm used to from most undead. And that sounds distinctly unpleasant," she adds, of growing teeth, "and... itchy? Probably itchy. If you can feel itchiness, anyway. I'm not entirely sure Jethro can."

"Hey, I've long learned that I have no obligation to reassure anyone around me because like hell are people gonna do the same for me. It's a waste of time." People are going to do to him what they're going to do. All he can do is keep it from being done to him again. "But no. No itchiness. I don't rot and infections don't stick. I'm one big walking anti-body."

And the ultimate carrier, but as far as he's concerned that means the ball is all in his court.

"I mean when shit's regrowing," but hey, good for him for not having to deal with that. "The closest I can think of is healing potions knitting things together, and that shit always itches."

And then there's sand in the armor, that shit can itch too, and you can't even scratch it.

Honestly, it sounds like a real useful side effect he's got going on there.

"Jethro doesn't rot either, but he's a bog mummy, so he's literally well-preserved."

"Okay the first time I shed I itched. Right, yeah. But that was years ago, since then I just sorta... Ehhh."

He makes an uncertain gesture around himself. "I do stuff? It's complicated." He does understand it. He could even sit down and make another vaccine against himself, which he may have to do at some point.

"I've been four different colors at this point."

Alley... doesn't ask what he means by shed, because context clues with the rest of what he says makes it, if not clear, then at least likely.

Huh.

"So you're a chameleon zombie," jokes, she's got them, even if her delivery is dryer than the desert. But between changing colors and apparently shedding skin, she doesn't think the comparison is too out there.

And right around then, into the garden car trots a massive hound with a big stick in his mouth, behind Alley's back. Look what he found! ...Somewhere!

"It'd be nice if I at least changed to suit my wardrobe but the Apocalypse won't even give me that dignity. Holy shit, that is a living dog. That is not just a living dog, that is a dog mountain." Everything said flatly, not divided, with one long, ongoing stare.

That must be one of her alien elf dogs, because he does not remember dogs coming in that size. And it has been a damn long time.

Lamenting that he can't change color to suit his clothing is so close to something Dorian might say that it gets the faintest little smile out of Alley.

Maker, she misses her people. Even with everyone scattered across Thedas now, she'd at least had that amulet Dorian had made for her that let her talk to him from multiple countries away.

Alley glances back, noticing Bean and his prize.

"Where did you get that?"

Bean, for his part, lifts his head to show off the stick he's carrying, nubby tail wagging at full force. He gives a muffled bark, as though in reply.

"If this were a movie we'd be wondering where the exit to the real world was because obviously the dog found it and brought back evidence."

Movie? Hopefully? Or just very lucky dog. Dammit, probably very lucky dog. And here he was hoping for an out.

"I guess this place couldn't decide on a 'real world' out of all the ones it picked even if it was."

"That would be a pretty good thing to wonder if we were on my world, too."

But, alas.

"He probably just stole it from someone."

Bean gives another muffled bark at that, offended.

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A New Platform [Intro Post April]

Train

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