A New Platform [Intro Post September]

[voidtreckermods]

On the Train

"Good morning Voidtreckers, it is day one of the month of Nebula. 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 doors open. As usual, those who leave first notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. A-Qing, Atem, Beauregard Lionett, Casper LeBlanc Jr, Donatello Versus, Frankie Bacon, Ichiban Kasuga, Kumoko, Lena Sabrewing, Mami Tomoe, Mono, Peter Parker, Reno, Shi Qingxuan, Tobari, Wen Ning; all pass across the platform, not looking back. And then they're gone, disappeared 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. The platform is open to a bright blue sky, speckled with a couple of clouds. It's very warm, enough that they will not want to stay in those hoodies for long. Behind them through the fogs is a set of barriers, set in a brick wall and in front of them is a single set of tracks extending both ways into that same 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 on the foggy, blistering hot platform; then the fog begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform isn't large, but it is enough to hold the 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, perhaps ten minutes or so, 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'). They will also find a bunch of posters around the train and might notice the new clock in the standard coach.

The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, the ingredient this month is a strange meat, yaddon tail.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. There is a box labelled for purple team containing a stick of rock for each member of purple team, including those who are new. Join in your teams success!

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. In most rooms, the occupied beds are obvious, leaving the spotless, empty spaces for the newcomers. 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 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

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[agathokakological]

The strawberry is accepted, though Crowley stares at it for a long moment before deciding if he's brave enough to eat it.

"I dunno, mate. Accident doesn't sound too appetizing."

He sniffs it, not sure what it is he's smelling. "When you're doing it... do you visualize the results in your head?" he asks, unsure of how the power works.

[yondu]

"Alright, how about I call it an adventure, that sound better?"

He shakes his head at his own attempts. "I... sorta? I guess I need to actually pay more attention when I'm eatin' Terran fruit. I don't eat it real often an' I might be gettin' 'em confused."

He straights up and rubs the back of his head. "Maybe that's it. Just tryin' to grow it, I end up thinkin' about other fruit, and I change it instead. On the other hand if you ever want me to make a plant with thorns or some needles, shouldn't be too long before I've got that goin' again."

[agathokakological]

"Focusing is easier said than done." Crowley hums, finding something to lean against. He tosses the berry in his hand a moment, and then curiosity takes over and he can't help but take a bite. Because he doesn't know what to expect the taste confuses him and he makes a face.

"Oi... what is that?" he asks, looking down at the remnants of it with his nose turned.

[yondu]

"Well.... I was aimin' for strawberry... I mean, I know what they look like. I've had 'em in the kitchen. I just-"

He gestures hatefully towards the plant, like it's the vine's fault. Not his. But he's already admitted his own ineptitude with it. Alright, so. Focusing.

"Y'all ever mess up one of the things you an' Aziraphale do? ...Well, you probably been around long enough to have it down pat. Alright, concentrate."

This time he tries cupping his hands around a strawberry to try again. And this time it's... it's closer? It's round. But it's a strawberry. When he pulls it apart, it's a strawberry on the inside. It's just absurdly round.

[agathokakological]

Crowley knows that gesture. It's definitely the vine's fault. The demon grimaces down at it as well, almost threateningly, to persuade it to cooperate.

The question distracts him, and he puffs out a little bit of air, almost defeat. "There's this thing he's always saying. 'Evil always sows the seeds of its own destruction.' Something like that, anyway, couldn't tell you how many times that I did something only to have it bite me back in my own ass."

He's almost surprised at himself for admitting it, but he supposes that's just growth on his own part.

"Getting there." he comments as he watched Yondu pull it apart, then he crouches beside the plant, looking at it sternly again, "Get there quicker if someone pulled their weight." he hisses to it.

[yondu]

He's actually surprised a little that, while he doesn't notice plants heavily listening to people in most cases, this one is definitely listening to Crowley. And in light of the threatening tone it's actually becoming healthier? Yeah, he's thrown. But y'know what? It's got him curious.

So he picks another flower to cup his hands around, and this time when he tries again? It's a normal strawberry. Just a plain old fruit. When he tears it open? Seems to be spic and span. Everything as it should be.

"...I think that was as much the plant as it was me. What'dya do? I think I felt it listenin' to ya."

He gnaws a bite of the other half. Well, that one tastes right. He's now 1 for 20 on getting things the way they oughta be.

[agathokakological]

Crowley regularly questions what around him have ears, plants probably don't, but he seems to put the fear of himself into them all the same. He regards Yondu with a smile as the plant cooperates, and claps him proudly on the shoulder.

"Give yourself more credit." he says before letting go. "Mn. Just been raising plants for a long time. Know my way around a garden."

He shrugs, "Does it taste right?"

[yondu]

"Whatever ya did, it seemed to work. Thank ya."

He nods that it seemed to work out. "Now I just gotta figure out how to get the rest of 'em to cooperate all that well." Because it sure helps when the plant wants (maybe a little desperately) for the result to be correct.

Not that plants wanting anythings been something he's ever had to consider in the whole of his life. He can remember coming from a world full of forests, but he was planted in the metallic desolation of space. This was a fine new thing to deal with.

[agathokakological]

He nods, rocking back on his heels a bit. "Everyone has their own methods. Personally, I'm not so thrilled when people critique mine, so best I can do is suggest figuring out what works for you." His hands shove deep in his pockets then, lips twisting slightly, "I talk to mine. I read it in a paper or a magazine at some point. I don't actually remember."

Of course, in his mind Yondu is good at talking others into things, he's convinced Crowley a few times since they've met, and the demon finds him charming. To Crowley, it should be easy enough for Yondu to convince a plant to grow the fruit he wants it to, inducing fear or not.

[yondu]

If Yondu is good at it, it's likely that he's good at it when he isn't actually trying to do it, or that's what it feels like. Considering talking sense into Peter Quill or communicating with him in a way that wasn't wantin' to strangle the shit out of him was a monumental effort.

He did love the boy but he was definitely not father of the year.

Still, he'd be glad to know that he had a motivating impact. He won't say positive. He likes Crowley too much to insult him with the word positive. But motivating? That can work too. And if anything, after Crowley showed him the first kindnesses he'd had in a long time since he showed up? Pity or temptations or fits of misplaced caring or whatever it was, he'd want to know he gave something worthwhile back to him.

"Guess I should try talkin' to 'em... Some of 'em are bein' bigget bastards than some of my old crew. That's a real high bar to leap." Some of them are doin' pretty decent, though. A good starting point. Maybe Crowley's just right in that he needs to get their help as much as he's trying to strangle the cooperation out of 'em.

[agathokakological]

"So then talk to them like you would your crew." he suggests with a shrug, "I mean, it's worth a try."

Crowley believes in him, anyway. He knows from experience that things take practice. Even if he's always been naturally good at his magic, he had to learn to navigate a human world.

An idea comes to him and he blinks with a face that looks like he isn't sure if he should suggest it or not.

"Mmn." he grunts as a start, "The dog makes good fertilizer." he offers, "The one Aziraphale keeps around."

[yondu]

He almost says he'll have to make sure that none of the kids are around, because he doesn't want them to be as wary of him as Peter ended up being. (Though, so far, with the different circumstances his relationships with most of the children on the train have turned out well.)

But then he mentions the dog and he remembers that whatsit that Aziraphale showed him, and he pulls a legendary face.

"The Wobbledog? Ferdinand or somethin'?" Was that his name? Hell, he doesn't remember. But wiggles his fingers and scrunches up his face as he remembers bizarre feeling off-putting toothless nibbles.

It was harmful. He doesn't hate it. He doesn't love it. He just found it strange as all hell. "I guess if it works." Best that the strange toothless creature get some sort of use?

[agathokakological]

"That's the one. Only reason I tolerated him keeping that thing around."

That, and Aziraphale could guilt him into anything. Although he does remember a time when the dog came into their little island hut, looked Crowley square in the eye. and defecated in the middle of their living space. Crowley nearly threw it into the sea, while Aziraphale tried desperately to ignore the fact that it had happened at all.

"Food was scarce where we lived before. I had to grow my own. First time in millennia I'd ever felt hunger pangs... wasn't fond of it."

[yondu]

He could imagine how frustrating it would be at the time but if he knew about it, he'd likely crack up at the vision in retrospect. Then say that sounds like something Peter might do if he was pissed enough at someone. Yondu raised a class act.

(Not throwing someone into the sea, that's more a Yondu thing. Spite shitting with a direct eye-stare. Peter Quill, he is certain, would do such a thing.)

"Couldn't use your powers so much?" At least it reaffirms the idea that he should be actually trying to figure out how to do this so it's not just Persephone's job. Or others with plant-based abilities.

[agathokakological]

Crowley shakes his head, "No. Hardly at all... we were made mortal." he frowns, "I'd almost lost Aziraphale to illness. I couldn't--" his voice wavers slightly at the end there, and he catches it and stops talking, takes a breath to re-steady it. "I couldn't do anything to save him."

A slow exhale leaves Crowley’s mouth and he finds a wall to lean against. That particular memory makes the demon feel weak, almost sick himself. "The blessed train's a luxury in comparison." he notes.

[yondu]

"Sounds like a curse." He straightens himself up more solemnly, straightening his inner jacket.

On one hand, he can remember long nights by Peter's bedside early on, when he'd catch his first alien viruses and Yondu wouldn't know what to do about it. So he'd just be there with a cloth and a bucket and whatever soup he'd yell at Kraglin to make. It's not easy and he knows it's terrifying.

On the other, it occurs to him that he's always had to endure that kinda shit on his own, curled up and aching and still obligated to be ready to fight. Aziraphale is incredibly lucky to have that kinda love coming at him. Neither one are thoughts that he voices.

"Worst kind of enemy is the sort that you cain't strike out at all. They just gotta work it out inside 'em. I'm sure you did right."