A New Platform [Intro Post May]

[voidtreckermods]

On the Train

Like clockwork, the Voidtreckers are awoken by a familiar message this morning.

"Good morning Voidtreckers, it is day one of the month of Llama. Points have been updated on the system."

With points updated, everyone can spend the morning shopping. Most people will be expecting the second announcement that comes a few hours later.

"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 air is sticky and warm, the windows almost immediately dewing over with the humidity outside.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Azula, Prisoner, Amery Vallet, Dyme Graydon, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Yoite, Piccolo, Bulla Brief, Xie Lian, Kurosaki Ichigo, Hua Cheng, Renee Corbin, and Ran Mouri; all pass through the platform, not looking back before they disappear through the barriers and into the fog beyond.

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 find themselves on a platform, rich wood and pale stone forming a natural, tree-like structure overhead. Behind them is a set of barriers, and in front of them is a single set of tracks extending both ways into thick fog. The air is rainforest-hot, and the sound of frogsong can be faintly heard over the drip of the artificial canopy.

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 fog begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform isn't large, and seems smaller with twenty-eight figures scattered around, all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. Then there is 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 pours a strange assortment of people, over a hundred at least. 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.

Behind them, the doors close, and the train is cloaked in the same fog that hides the world beyond the platform.

The Train

After a short time, the fog clears and 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 several crates of nori, the ingredient of the month of Llama, as well as all sundries.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. For each member of Purple Team, a small silver box with their name on it contains a glittery cupcake.

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. They may need to negotiate for beds, but at least they won't be alone in their confusion - since the sleeper carriages are now double-decker, and experience isn't going to avail the passengers in finding their rooms.

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.

The new double carriage's transfer ICP is active, allowing people to move to a double room should they meet the requirements with another person, though they'll have to move their belongings themselves.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers taking advantage of the fresh air, and 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!

Comments

wildcard pickups

[morganizedchaos]

"You're a saint," Ghost says, as soon as Soldat shows up with the bag of stuff (it's not large) and a... cupcake?

That might as well happen.

As soon as they hand the bag over, Ghost starts rooting around in it, mostly by feel. "Really. I owe you one."

[worthallthis]

"All I did was pick up a bag, Ghost. I had stuff of my own to pick up, too," they point out, amused at the effusive praise. "Is everything there that you ordered?"

i waited to reply to this until my books processed, sorry

[morganizedchaos]

"Easy for you, hard for me, considering how everyone else on the train is doing the same thing," Ghost says. He ignores the chunky feel of the books and - there we go, pulls out a weird looking little device that he promptly hooks over his ear. It doesn't look entirely unlike a cochlear implant, though the casing is off-white instead of weird medical brown, and there's a couple wires dangling from it. "Everything's there, but this is the important bit."

no worries! not like you were even late really :P

[worthallthis]

"You gonna leave me in suspense?" they ask, voice going dry and a little Brooklyn. "What is that mystery thing?"

[morganizedchaos]

"Psychic dampener. Think earmuffs for my brain." Ghost continues to fiddle with it - one wire to the back of the neck, the other to the temple - it looks kind of stupid, but there's a distinct release of tension in his shoulders once he reaches up to flip the little hidden switch. "You could also tell it the only good thing Alex ever did for me and it wouldn't really be wrong."

[worthallthis]

"Huh. That does sound useful, especially around here." They consider that, then think, almost mischievously, (Asset, wanna test that out for him? No. Because that wasn't gonna test it, pal. No.)

[morganizedchaos]

"Means I can go to parties like a real grown-up," Ghost jokes. "And I can still hear you if I know you're 'talking,' it's just not going to be so overwhelming."

He's managed to avoid having any spectacularly bad days, which means that Soldat hasn't seen him doing the repeating thing. He'd definitely prefer to keep it that way.

[worthallthis]

"Good. Because clearly none of these assholes are actually going to shut up," Soldat says dryly, waving vaguely in the direction of their own head. "And I don't like the idea of that hurting you."

[morganizedchaos]

"On the scale of things I'm worried about hurting me, loud thinkers are pretty low, don't worry," Ghost says, looking into the bag in his lap now for the rest of the items. He looks back up with raised eyebrows. "A cupcake?"

[worthallthis]

"I think that's because Purple got the most points this month," Soldat says with a little shrug. "We get prizes. I've only seen it once before, but it was food then, too, and it wasn't my team." It's a little dumb, but hey, Soldat's not turning down free cupcakes, either.

[morganizedchaos]

"Well, I'm not going to complain." The cupcake has bonked into the side of its box in the process of getting carried from the luggage car, leaving the icing a little smeared on the inside, but with his dampener affixed, Ghost has the important priority of wicking that smear away with one finger and licking it. "Not fancy upscale bullshit quality, but not bad for a buttercream."

[worthallthis]

"Sometimes I think fancy upscale bullshit quality isn't even as good as a simple buttercream," Soldat says, somewhere between amused and kind of sticking up for the train's cupcake frosting choices. Which is also kind of amusing.

[morganizedchaos]

"Kind of depends on the context, I think," he says. "A home made birthday cake definitely deserves a simple buttercream." As he says this, Ghost drags a finger shamelessly through the top of his cupcake and licks it. He's allowed to act his age once in a while. "Bulk catering is the worst, if you ask me."

[worthallthis]

"I'll admit, I've never experienced it," Soldat allows. "I've got experience with food prior to 1945, and food scavenged and mixed as best we could on a dead world. Nothing was bulk. Except the one month the spirits decided our supply had to have huge bushels of garlic cloves in it, I guess."

[morganizedchaos]

"Yeah, I guess you predate corporate parties with buffet tables composed of nothing but the same three kinds of sandwich." Or giant block cakes at office parties. Same difference.

"I wouldn't mind a huge bushel of garlic here. If nothing else, enough fresh garlic bread to keep people happy." Everyone loves garlic bread, right? Right? Ghost shrugs and actually bites into the cupcake now that he's no longer at so much risk of getting icing on everything and everyone in range.

[worthallthis]

"The spirits mostly wanted to chuck it at us. They had some... weird superstitions that they never really explained to us," Soldat says. "Once a year they tried to smash all our plates, too. Not sure why they did that, either. At least the mourning tree and the aurora race made a certain kind of sense, but not those things."

[morganizedchaos]

"Okay, that's not the weirdest cultural thing I've ever heard of, but it's up there." Then again, he's mostly from mainstream American post-millennial culture, which is pretty lacking in anything like that. "The plate-smashing thing, more than the garlic."

[worthallthis]

"They weren't great at explaining things, in general, though that one in particular was because no one could catch any of them to ask," Soldat allows. "They also had a tree that that loaded up with memories and then sank in the lack. And when the aurora came, they'd, well. Throw themselves into it and join the light."

[morganizedchaos]

"... Definitely weird from our perspective," Ghost says, counting himself as mostly-human relative to the spirits. "But I guess as long as they weren't hurting people - not like plates can't be replaced. Probably a boon to whoever did pottery around there."

[worthallthis]

"Not a single person, actually," Soldat says with a sigh that's only about half serious. "Sometimes new dishes came in with the supplies. Mostly we stuck to the wood and metal ones. Or tried hard to keep our remaining ceramics locked up." They shake their head. "They tried to be helpful, once we proved we weren't going to hurt them, and weren't going to go nuts and start killing each other. Their idea of helpful just wasn't always the same as ours."