voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post June]

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A New Platform [Intro Post June]

On the Train

The days following the mission are relatively uneventful as people once more get used to the rhythm of life on the train. "Good morning passengers, it is day sixteen of the month of Fiddlesticks. Points have been updated on the system."

They have indeed and everyone can spend the morning shopping. Those who have been on the train a while 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 they are soon surrounded by the fog that means they are at a platform. It is a cool day, clouds gathering threateningly though it stays dry luckily.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Leviathan, Atsushi Nakajima, Spinel, Peggy Carter, Evie Grimhilde, Cal Kestiss, Gwen Stacey, Renee Corbin, Lan Jingyi, Waver Velvet, Aoko Nakamori, Namine, Jak and Marcus Wright all reach the barriers, show their tickets and disappear through, vanishing into the fog.

But on the platform itself there are many new faces. Wearing hoodies, 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. They are standing, in clothes that are not their own, styles 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 but then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large and it holds twenty six figures all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. The air is cool with a slight breeze. Both left and right the tracks disappear into the mist. 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 into the cold step a selection 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 Train

The doors hiss open. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there is 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 not be a good thing. 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. The store rooms have been restocked with plenty more bacon as well as other staples.

Passengers who are not brand new will notice a new carriage. A second gym. This one is outfitted for training with mats, fighting pads, balance beams and even climbing apparatus to help get everyone ready for the missions ahead.

New passengers will find their tickets allow 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 and you will hopefully find a pillow for your bed if it has not been nabbed by a roommate, there are also spare blankets for if it gets cold.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers and the doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view 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. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

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Crowley had thought maybe he'd like to travel more, at least a fleeting thought once he realized he was about to be given the once unheard of prospect of retirement. This wasn't exactly what he had planned, certainly, but it was so very much better than their last unplanned trip, and he was grateful that the angel was still at his side.

"I suppose it would after what we've lived off of on that infernal sandheap." he replied, plucking a piece of bacon from the plate. "But I'm no michelin-star chef."

Thankfully, bacon's pretty tasty slightly burnt, at least Crowley thinks so as he takes a bite.

There certainly is relief in seeing just how they continue to stick together despite the absolutely preposterous things life has thrown at them. He's not really sure how long it's been since the failed Armaggedon, what with his specific relationship with time and the fact that there really wasn't a way to check while they were in the islands, but no matter what, they're together. After all of that, he's not sure he could handle it.

He takes a bite of the bacon, and isn't even all that bothered about how it's burnt. Maybe his high expectations with food will return the longer he has access to a proper kitchen, but, right now, he's just glad to have it at alll, and he's damn well going to enjoy it.

"Hm, well, you could always practice." Meant as an actual suggestion, not a criticism on the current dish. He goes for a second bite, having a real good time. "Now we're somewhere with a real kitchen."

Crowley's own enjoyment of the meal was a direct result of how much Aziraphale was enjoying himself. His eyes aren't on the food itself, but rather watching the angel's expression, ensuring that it's to his liking. Crowley gets lost in that moment sometimes, and it's often why he finishes his meals quickly, so that he can watch the angel's enjoyment instead.

"Sure, yeah." he mutters, the bacon in his hand quickly growing cold as he's essentially forgotten it's there. "Whatever you'd like."

Aziraphale, for what it's worth, looks happy as a clam, taking care to savor his meal as he would back home. Which in itself is a good sign - while they might be ever farther from their world (maybe, who knows, there really isn't a metric to measure the distance here), at least some things were returned to them, and he doesn't feel in immediate danger, so that works well in keeping his spirits up.

He wiggles the fork in his hand as he chews. "Perhaps there's recipe books onboard. There is a library- well, they call it a library, though it's rather lackluster, but it's worth a look."

It's enough to snap Crowley out of it, and he takes another bite of his bacon, shaking his head in response.

"They're in the computer-thingy." he replies, waiving his hand, "Saw someone using it. Didn't feel like waiting, so..." he gestures vaguely to the plate before them. "Not exactly your full English breakfast but... eh."

"It's plenty good, my dear." As far as he's concerned at the moment. They can work up to that whenever they're more settled and know their way around the kitchen a little better.

"I have to say, it might not be ideal, but...it's surely an improvement, being here."

Crowley looks around the crowded room as Aziraphale talks, his expression a bit exasperated.

"Has it's drawbacks. A bit cramped, if you ask me." he mutters, turning back, "But, food, technology, minor comforts, and a bit of a longer leash on our natural abilities seems like a decent trade."

All in all, they had only spent what couldn't have been longer than several months on the island. It only felt so long because they were suffering. In their very long lives, it was hardly a blip in their timeline. Crowley figured they couldn't possibly spend much longer on a train, and eventually they'd have to make it back home, one way or another.

It's a fair concept, the idea that they probably won't be here much longer than they were in the islands, but the truth is they don't exactly any way of knowing that. Still, that short amount of time forcibly learning not only about how to survive in completely different manners than they ever had to experience before, together with getting used to an entirely different world with different dynamics and powers that be, well, that was hardly a good time, and bad times do tend to draw out a lot longer.

This isn't ideal, as the angel pointed out. But the little things are certainly appreciated. It's a step in the right direction. Aziraphale looks around at the others in the room as he takes another bite from his plate.

"Hm, well-" He dabs his lips with a napkin he did just miracle on his hand. "Supposedly, the train stops on different worlds every other fortnight, so I suppose we might get some time to stretch our legs."

"A bit like before, being sent on assignment." he comments, shoving his fork into a but of egg to taste it. It's woefully unseasoned.

"Not that I have any intention of following the orders of someone who can't even show their face." he groans, setting his fork down. "I say we relax a bit. Enjoy what we've been deprived for months. Food, minor comforts, clean water... maybe a haircut." as he says the last part, he twirls a piece of his hair, quite long on the top, around his finger.

Crowley's right. Aziraphale had had that feeling the first time he read the pamphlet about the train itself - teams, assignments, although, by the way people had explained it, it at least sounded like the teams were working with each other for a common goal, instead of against each other. But that hardly matters - much to the demon's point, are they really supposed to follow the orders of someone they don't even know exist?

Crowley changes the subject along and Aziraphale considers him and his words. "Well... you could always change it yourself." But even as he says that, he finds himself missing his visits to his barber, as unnecessary as those really were, but he found the experience quite lovely.

Crowley isn't always the brightest when it comes to solving problems. He of course likes to buy his clothing from a store, eat his dinner at a restaurant, and get his hair done by the professionals. The idea of doing something himself is not registering with him because he just doesn't work that way unless he absolutely has to.

"I can't really reach the back, myself." he replies, letting go of the strand he was playing with and moving his hand to rub at the back of his head, "I mean, I can. I just can't see what I'm doing. Maybe you could help?"

There is a not insignificant part of their experience on Earth where the two of them had gained habits that could easily be replaced by a snap of the fingers of a flick of the wrist, just a little instantaneous miracle. But it was the experience that called to them, more so even than reprimanding by part of their former superiors (in the angel's case, anyway). So the suggestion comes more a last standing solution than what is preferred.

But Aziraphale is surprised at the suggestion, if just for the fact that he's never really done that sort of thing. "You want me to cut your hair?" He asks, sounding rather curious.

Crowley winces slightly, the angel's response not giving him total confidence.

"I can do the sides myself, and show you." he replies, but is beginning to think it might just be safer to use a miracle or two. His hands drops from scratching at his own messy hair and he finds himself dazing away while looking at the angel's. He isn't sure he's ever seen Aziraphale with hair this long, and while it's certainly not long by many's standards, he's always kept it so trim.

"You should leave yours like that." he suggests, "It's rather nice."

Aziraphale has approximately no experience in cutting anyone's hair, but, well, he won't say no to helping. Besides, even if they make a mistake, they could fix it, right?

He's about to take another bite of his meal when Crowley drops the little compliment on him, and he stops, regarding the demon...and perhaps feeling a it flattered.

"You think so?" Asked as he instinctively reaches to touch those light blonde curls. "I was thinking it's gotten a bit long..."

Crowley nods, reaching forward rather casually to sweep a curl to the side of his face, framing it nicely.

"Yeah, well... it has. But I've never seen you with your hair this long before. Try it for a while."

His hand returns to his side of the table where he taps lightly. He's biting his tongue, almost obviously so. What he wants to say is it's lovely; fluffy and soft and you really can't deprive me of touching it, please. But not here, people are looking and might think I have feelings that aren't boredom and disgust.

Aziraphale's cheeks flush a faint red before he's even aware of it, and the coy smile that creeps onto his face may signal that Crowley's suggestion will be noted. They don't often agree with fashion choices, but flattery does get you everywhere, even if it's mostly shown through looks and gently touches.

"Well." Bringing his eyes down to his plate, but his smile does not waver. "I suppose I'll think about it."

The angel's rosy cheeks are always a delight to see, and while Crowley's subdued compliment probably could have been much more flattering if he even knew how to vocalize it, he'll take that little smile as a win.

"Right." he continues, clearing his throat, "I guess this is it then... at least for a while."

"Looks like it is." Said fairly casually, with a glance around the dinning room, a subtle momentary glance at the demon, and back to his plate. He takes another bite, letting the scene fall into a restless, albeit pleasant silence.

"Are you worried?" He eventually speaks again. "About this place. The train."

"Always a little worried." he replied, nonchalantly, looking about them, "But we seem to be restored enough to our former selves that I'm confident we can make it work."

Not that they hadn't made it work on the island, of course. This train and its inhabitants didn't seem too concerned for a constant peril like before. The 'missions' referred to in the pamphlet seemed deadlier, but what was keeping them from staying on the train if things got too ugly?

Apparently nothing, Aziraphale had learned, or at least history would make it sound that way. From what he heard from several other passengers, there's really no control beyond giving out the orders, which seemed to be more like mere suggestions than anything else, really.

With another bite taken, the angel takes a moment to think. "It would have almost made sense if we had actually seen anything like this train before we found ourselves in the islands." Almost, but not quite. None of it really makes sense. "A world stands, supposedly, ready to meet its possible end...and we find ourselves in a train that travels between worlds." He seems to mostly be talking through whatever train of thought (pun not intended) lazes through his mind, and seems to come back to reality with a small shake of his head. "Though, it's just as likely that there's no sense to be had."

"That's just typical." he groans, dropping his utensils and leaning on his hands. He's lost what little appetite he has, which isn't uncommon to begin with.

"Nothing has made sense since we averted the end of our own world to begin with." he frowns, almost like there are puzzle pieces clicking together in his head, and he blames himself for all of this. Maybe armageddon would have been better... maybe, if the angel would have just run off with him to begin with, none of this would have happened. But then, where would they be? Certainly not enjoying a plate of food on a train car... likely never enjoying a plate of food again...

It's ineffable, he doesn't say. The words pass his mind in a vague sense of amused irony, but he figures it would dredge up more frustration if he said it.

Which apparently isn't necessary. He catches Crowley's words, and, while he wants to take them as simply direct matter-of-fact, because things did happen in such a way that they couldn't predict the future in any way, but there's something in the tone that, for once, Aziraphale thinks he hears. He regards the demon for a moment.

"I wouldn't say we averted it. I'm quite sure we didn't quite have much of a hand in it." He says instead of what he's thinking. He picks at the rest of his food, takes another bite, dabs his lip. "But I do suppose that there wasn't a backup plan in case it...well, didn't happen. Not one that we knew of, anyway. So there's no way of knowing if this has anything to do with it."

"No, but we are who they blamed." he scoffs, folding his arms on the table. "I know there isn't, just doesn't add up otherwise."

Crowley's own anxieties are typically pushed down and saved for when he's alone, maybe taken out on a house plant or two, but there doesn't really seem to be any place on this infernal train to do such a thing. No privacy, anyhow.

Another thing Aziraphale doesn't do is ask him the question that so rudely pops into his mind entirely without invitation when he hears Crowley say that. Instead, he regards him for another moment, then turns his eyes back down to his plate.

There's something in the mix of uneasiness of yet another entirely new, strange place, and the slowing down that's come with their powers having returned. A sort of interlude that gives time to process everything before now. Or allows it to creep up to the forefront, anyway.

He finishes his meal. "In any case," he finally speaks again, "we should figure out what we can do while we're here."

Crowley nods, pushing himself back from his seat. "Want to split up and regroup later? Might get information a bit quicker, that way." he suggests. Normally, movies have taught him that splitting up is always a bad idea, but they don't seem to be in any immediate danger.

"I'll take one side of the train, you take the other?"

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A New Platform [Intro Post June]

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