voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post December]

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A New Platform [Intro Post December]

On the Train

It's only been a couple of days since the Voidtrecker Express took to the void once more, and many of the passengers are still recovering and recuperating after a very hectic end to their latest mission. Nevertheless, they are awoken by a familiar message.

"Good morning passengers, it is day sixteen of the month of Imagination. 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 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. It is warm outside with a pleasant breeze that flows down the platform, rustling the light spread of leaves that litter the floor.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Akemi Homura, Alfred the Poisoner, Donatello Versus, Chie Satonaka, Joscelin Fitzthomas, Ronan Lynch, Rose Tyler, Tangle the Lemur, Trowa Barton, Wester Mazaki and Whisper the Wolf 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. The second thing they will notice is the swirling leaves at their feet, moving in flurries and rattling against each other softly. As their eyes adjust, they will see they are on a platform, cement and packed earth forming a very practical, plain-looking shelter. Behind them is a set of barriers, and 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 but then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large and it holds eight figures all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. 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 gloom 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'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 more jars of honey, the ingredient of the month of Imagination, as well as sundries.

A new carriage has been added right next to the luggage carriage. It is a second medical carriage, or triage carriage. Downstairs is more open with beds and chairs, upstairs are two surgical bays for those that need immediate attention.

For those intrigued by the claim of a parcel for every passenger they will find several large boxes filled with small blue bags. Inside each bag is ten dark blue coins imprinted on each side with a silver snowflake. Each bag has a small label with a passengers name. On the other side of the label it reads: Keep these safe for now.

Of course for any passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage as well.

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 taking advantage of the pleasant weather 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. 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

Where Dev comes from, he's used to taking people at their word. He may not like what he's learning about Koumyou's home reality, but that discomfort is only his own to manage. So all he can do, really, is squeeze those slender hands laid into his own, and nod.

"Mn. No, it's not. And where you come from is part of what's made you, you." Would the other man be so riveting to Devero, if he'd been shaped by a softer place, or bore a smaller burden?

His eyes drop, tracking lightly down Koumyou's body even through the distortion of the water. He releases one bony hand to lift his own, fingers tracing the line of a scar without actually touching. "I'd like to hear some of these stories some time, if you'd be willing to share them." He looks up again. "I'd like to understand where you come from."

To be fair to Devero's tendency to take people at their word, Koumyou is pretty sure he's telling the truth, too. It's fine, everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be fine?

At that odd move from the other man, Koumyou... well, he doesn't tense, or freeze, or anything else. When there is no actual touch, Koumyou's eyes flick down, curious to see what, exactly, the other man is doing.

"You're so interested," the priest laughs lightly, turning his attention back to Devero's face. "Even more flattery, is it? All this attention from such a roguishly handsome young man... it's going to go right to my head. And no one will thank you for that!"

His freed hand just sort of drifts lazily near the surface of the water, off to one side.

"Tell me about your world, then. I don't want to be the only one talking."

"If you don't want me to be interested," he retorts primly, "you should try to be less interesting." Not that he remotely means that--

Oh no. Koumyou called him handsome. He ducks his head and his smile goes shy and silly and damn it he's acting like a teenager again. At least his flush can be attributed to the water. "I'm not that young!" he protests, laughing. "I'm thirty-four, old man."

He has to pull away, put a little space between them. At least he doesn't do it with that panicked tension from before; he just releases Koumyou's hand and lounges back, laying his arms along the lip of the pool. "What do you want to know about?"

That response about being interesting gets a laugh out of Koumyou, a bit more forceful than his usual. From surprise? Or maybe he just found that crack funnier than most things so far?

And then, oh wow, is he--

"Are you blushing?" Koumyou gasps, and goes to chase after Devero as he pulls away, trying to brush a slender hand against Devero's cheek as though to test the temperature of it. "That's adorable! Is it because I called you handsome? You have seen a mirror, right?"

Devero tries to fend Koumyou off as the other man corners him in the pool, but only half-heartedly. And when the Sanzo's hand lights on his cheek, he freezes. His cheek is warm, but, that could totally just be the pool, right? And the way his heart is pounding is just because of the scramble. Right.

"W-well." Oh, that came out shaky. Come on, Devero, get a hold of yourself. "I mean, I'm not allowed to think I'm handsome, that would be egotistical. So it's n-nice to hear that you think so."

And he's stuttering? Koumyou is delighted.

"Too cute, too cute!" Great, good, this will definitely help, especially with his hand lingering on Devero's cheek.

"Having an ego's not such a bad thing, is it?"

"Now you're flattering me," he protests, bringing up both hands to push lightly on Koumyou's chest. He-- he doesn't really sound like he minds, though.

He cocks his head curiously and recites, "Ego is an enemy of the community." Duh, Koumyou!

Devero gets his space back with the push, Koumyou going back to his spot on the ledge without any fuss.

"Ego," he declares, "is useful. Ego is what lets a guy get slapped in the face by the world, spit the blood out, and get back up again to say 'is that all you've got?'"

Needless to say, Koumyou himself has a pretty healthy ego.

Devero settles once Koumyou's backed off. "See, I'd just call that confidence. Ego is what makes a guy spit on someone else, knock them down, and tell them 'I'm better than you'."

"I'd say that's more about having a rotten personality."

No he's definitely not thinking of someone Devero had just been a crying mess over, less than an hour ago. ~~He absolutely is.~~

Devero, meanwhile, is just thinking of all the boogeymen from Before that the creche keepers taught to their charges. "They'd have to come part and parcel, wouldn't they? You wouldn't develop that kind of selfish egotism without being a rotten person at heart."

"It's true, it's true! Reminds me of someone I just heard about today, in fact."

Yep, he just went there.

He doesn't have much in the way of details, but. The similarities between Devero and a loyal, abused hound, desperately trying to please its owner, are still fresh in his mind.

Who does that to another person?

Well, someone rotten at heart seems like a good descriptor.

"Does it?" Devero asks politely, not immediately making the connection himself. When he does, his expression hardens and he sits up. "You don't mean--" A brief hesitation as he substitutes the name on the tip of his tongue for something more neutral. "--Administrator Valdana."

You'd better not mean Administrator Valdana.

Ohhh, are those fighting words? Koumyou twirls a finger in the water, as relaxed about things as ever, despite the dramatic shift in mood from Devero.

"Is that her name? Although I'll point out, I didn't specify."

You drew that line between the dots yourself, Devero. He just helped.

"But yes, I suppose that's who I mean."

"She's not selfish!" he protests. "She's an Administrator. They screen for that when they're evaluating leadership candidates, so she can't be!" He's protesting a lot, huh?

Koumyou just watches him lazily from under half-lowered eyelids, finger idly twirling out intricate patterns on the surface of the water.

"An infallible screening that can find all the hidden nooks and crannies in a mind, and also take into account all future changes? I wish we'd had that for Sanzo candidates, it sounds terribly useful."

The point is so well made that Devero shuts his mouth on his next protest with a clack of teeth. One particular word seems to trigger something in him, and he sort of shrinks down into the water. "I--"

He actually stops there for a long moment, struggling with himself to get something else out. It's been too long ingrained in him not to talk about this. He actually curls up on the seat, drawing one big leg up and hugging it to himself.

Finally, he's able to speak past his knee. "I always wondered what about me had changed, that she had to become s-so strict with me."

"Have you heard about the frog in the pot?" Koumyou asks, and lets one of his hands drift Devero's way, palm-up. It's there if he wants it.

"Heat the water slowly, and the frog never knows it's boiling alive."

He doesn't take it, but the way he's hiding his face against his knee, he might not have realized yet it was on offer.

He laughs; he'd brought up that homily himself, talking to someone on the day of his arrival. "But I'm not some frog who doesn't know better," he says insistently. "If anything, I'm-- I'm a frog that broke its leg, so you have to throw it in the pot to make something useful of it."

That's what she's whispered into his ears, what she's impressed so firmly on his heart: he's not good enough. Not good enough for her, barely good enough to maintain his place in her town, maybe not even good enough to be taking up Gov's resources.

The way the big guy has curled in on himself, it really...

Koumyou scoots closer along their shared ledge. And then he surprises himself a little, by attempting to drape one slender arm over Devero's shoulders.

"No one is useless," he says simply, but firmly. "No one has to be made anything."

Devero jerks when he first feels Koumyou touch him, flinching into a tighter ball like he's expecting to be hit. But nothing more happens than an arm going around his shoulders. He peeks at Koumyou for a long moment, hesitating, but then-- then he tucks himself against the Sanzo's side.

"I know," he says, his voice choked. Like before, words seem to just come flowing out of him, disjointed and raw. "I know, 'every person has the right to food, to shelter, to comfort and to medical care, with no qualifications', but it's different at Techstead! Sh-she always says our req level is too l-low for the work we do, so we can't spare anything for non-contributors, and she says it's my fault we can't get our level raised, because her friends are all getting bored of me and th-they don't want to do her favors anymore!"

Koumyou only understands... some of that, without more context about Devero's world to work from. But it's enough to get him to raise his other hand from the water and stroke it over Devero's hair, like soothing a frightened animal. Just going to do that over and over, if the bigger man doesn't jerk away from it.

"...Making you her scapegoat," he says after a moment of this, "is just another way to kick you down to make herself feel big."

He's seen this before. He's also almost murdered over it, with only a timely shout from Goudai -- then Toudai -- stopping him.

He doesn't jerk away. In fact, like a frightened animal-- like that abused hound, still so desperate for the touch of a kind hand despite its treatment-- he leans hesitantly into the contact. "It's not like that," he protests weakly. "It's not. I am the problem. I've al-always been the problem, they wouldn't have discharged me from the Guard if I was good enough--!" With a splash, he buries his face in his wet hands. That's a wound that's festered for years, meticulously kept from closing by the woman who was benevolent enough to take on someone with a tainted record like Devero's.

More missing context. Koumyou sighs softly, not letting up on the petting.

"Tell me about what happened in the Guard, then," he says, "I don't know if priests offer absolution where you're from, but if it would help... well, I'm listening."

He doesn't say anything right away, a silence that stretches conspicuously. The shame he carries is a boot on his throat, choking off his air, and it's only by closing his eyes and forcing himself to just breathe that he's able to stave off a full-blown panic attack.

"I was dishonorably discharged," he says finally, mumbling the words into his palms. "My squad was guarding a Reclamation Corps camp out in this ruined city they were surveying, but there were these ludds in the city too and they started-- s-started picking us off. First equipment, then our scouts and perimeter patrol. But then somehow they got u-under the west end of the encampment and they set bombs, and the wh-whole thing caved in when they set them off, and--"

He picks his head up, the words starting to come faster. "--And I just remember the ground starting to go out under my Scorpion, and all the civilians with the Corps were screaming and falling and all I could think was I won't let these people die. So I-- I hacked the control interface for the exo and I turned off all the limiters and I just went."

Abruptly he sits up, knocking Sanzo's hands away even as he turns to face him urgently. "I saved every single one of those people, Sanzo! I pulled every goddamn civilian out of there before the sinkhole could eat them!"

But after that outburst, he slumps, the volume of his voice falling. He leans back against the pool again, suddenly seeming tired. He laughs once, humorlessly. "And I almost died from the biofeedback overload. One of my mates had to drag me out of the sinkhole after I-- I passed out. Nearly lost his fucking leg doing it, too.

"...They got me for tampering with equipment at the court martial. Couldn't appeal it, because that's exactly what I did. It was the only way to save those people, but-- but it was the wrong choice? They wouldn't have discharged me if it wasn't the wrong choice."

He scrubs at his eyes, not that his face isn't wet already. "So there it is. My first big fuck-up."

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