voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post May]

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The demon doesn't really take on a role of chef unless it comes to Aziraphale. Crowley had learned to cook, at least over a fire, only because it was necessary on their last trip through the multiverse. Once boarding the train and being restored to immortality he didn’t have as much need to do any cooking, but the recipes and modern cookware made it easier for him to treat Aziraphale now and then to a meal, which gives him the excuse to check the car for new recipes on the start of a new month.

Seeing Soldat always perks him up, and as he nears, he's distracted the little toy rattling nearby. "Aren't you a bit old for kid stuff?" asks the millennia-old demon that still watches cartoons.

The ghost figurine... zooms over to him and bounces on the counter as close to him as they can get. Soldat pauses in surprise, and winces a little in sympathy. That little ghost had originally belonged to their Crowley, before he disappeared on them. "Ah. They're not a toy. Not really. Pretty sure it's possessed or something. I brought it here from my last place, kind of like Aziraphale with Ferdinand. They, ah, would like you to pet them. Just a finger to the top of the head will probably do."

"Possessed." he repeats, wincing. Such a word usually corresponds to demons inhabiting something, which, let's face it, Crowley would rather not pet. "By what?" he asks.

Hesitantly, Crowley reaches out toward it, one finger touching the top of the ghost's head. When contact feels safe enough, he gives them a little scratch.

"No idea," Soldat shrugs helplessly. "I inherited them from someone who... disappeared. So everything I know about them is. Guesswork."

The little ghost bobbles like it's on springs, more enthusiastically than they usually do, and stays put as if hoping for more.

"They don't eat and don't communicate, really, aside from following around and rattling their chains, but they don't hurt anything either. Just need a little love now and then." They're actually pretty fond of their odd little friend.

"Curious." Crowley comments, rubbing the little ghost on their head as they react positively. "Did you name them?" he asks, not that it's terribly important. It seems rather benign to Crowley, as long as they're never in the way.

"The multiverse always seems to have more surprises... don't know if I'm even shocked by what I see anymore."

"I haven't been really shocked by something like that in." Soldat thinks, then settles on, "A while. A long while. And no, um. I'm actually really bad at names. And they never seemed to care either way." They pause, and smiles a little. "Definitely can't call them Ghost now, though. Since we've got somebody named Ghost on board."

"Because no two people share the same name?" Crowley asks, somewhat teasingly. "There's always spectre, phantom, or one of those other spooky names." he shrugs his hand withdrawing from the thing in favor of shoving itself deep in his pocket.

"Dunno. Never had a pet."

"Because it'd get confusing on the train," Soldat counters in the same tone. The ghost figurine drifts back, apparently satisfied, to hover around Soldat's lantern. "Does Ferdinand not count because he's Aziraphale's, or something?"

"That's not a pet." he answers with a huff, already irritated, "That's a nuisance."

There was a time before the dog, and then it just sort of showed up and never left. It's existence has baffled Crowley ever since, but a pet? He thinks not.

"It's Aziraphale’s fault that it's here, taking pity on the thing."

Crowley, you're adorable. Soldat is not fooled; they've seen him sneaking that not-a-dog snacks. They don't say that, though, they just look amused and answer: "I don't think being a nuisance means it can't also be a pet. I've had friends who were nuisances, even."

"You're getting uncomfortably close to one, yourself." he snaps back, teasingly. If Soldat had any concern that Crowley was serious, the demon’s softer expression should put him at ease.

"I don't think the world that dog came from even exists, anymore." he mutters with a heavy sigh, he had been sent off of it himself after meeting a rather large god that promised to destroy it all. Crowley would have been more upset about that if the place wasn't literally torture and anyone that existed there actually wanted to be there. He'd also thought that he'd be sent back to his own world, not whatever the void counted as.

The tease gets an eyeroll, but then it deflates a little into a look over their shoulder at him. "What do you mean, doesn't exist anymore?" they ask, a little tentatively. "Was it in danger?"

"It never really existed to begin with. Something about... I dunno. A young god trying to build something they shouldn't have. It needed to be unmade to be set right." Crowley literally couldn't have been more thrilled to be released from that place. He'd existed in literal hell, and that was worse.

"My guess is when that happened, we ended up in the void because there was nowhere else to go... until the train picked us up." he shrugs, "I'd have rather gone back to earth, though. For the record."

"Not surprised." That was what Crowley always wanted. To go back home. He'd even wanted them to come with, talked about going to London together, the three of them. "Did you stop the apocalypse, in your version of Earth? Was it all over there?"

"Well, mm, yeah, I suppose I had a role in it." he answers, "Hell certainly thought so." he shrugs, "But that's just the thing, isn't it? We were hardly given any time to celebrate before the powers that be whisked us off to that blessed island."

And he's rather angry about that, too. At least they'd gotten a dinner at the Ritz.

"Well. Maybe you can celebrate here. Since there's not a whole lot stopping you, right?" Soldat offers. Their Crowley hadn't gotten to celebrate, either, mostly because their Crowley had been killed by Hell before getting the chance to.

A New Platform [Intro Post May]

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