LOG 001: INTRO

[shiftmods]

WELCOME TO STATION RED.

You wake up in your bed.

Not your bed back home, of course, but the bunk that's been assigned to you. Your new bed for the next foreseeable future. You’ve been dressed in what is the basic uniform around here. (OOC note; your newly issued equipment is detailed here.)

Your own clothing, of course (the clothing you came in wearing, that is) is folded neatly, and all of your other belongings are present and accounted for nearby, and near them will be a piece of paper, a thin carbon copy of your bill. Of course the word ‘bill’ is the only word in your native tongue on the paper, the rest in a completely indecipherable alien language. That and the number, of course.

1,000,000,000

The room is sparsely furnished, small, and some would say cramped; someone with a less negative outlook might call it utilitarian, or hey, why not even cozy. The bed is just soft enough to be comfortable, but not luxurious, although it probably feels like you slept on a slab of concrete after what you’ve been through.

And what have you been through? Your memories preceding your awakening may be hazy at best, and you certainly won’t remember any of your arrival here. Characters who were present at the Interim will remember it. You might have a headache, light-headedness, nausea, strange lights or shapes in your vision, or sounds in your ear, although any life threatening injuries you may have had just before waking up here will be gone.

Characters will be free to explore their location, STATION RED, although at the moment, much of it will be unavailable, corridors shuttered off, gates closed, with no obvious means of access. It’s a sparse, almost military type of place, high ceilinged and warehouse-like in the big areas, with more cramped feeling interior rooms and hallways. There seems to be a significant level disrepair here, with exposed wiring, and chipped or scratched finishes common sights. This is closer to an old bunker than a five star hotel. There will be no windows anyway, making it impossible to tell where you are.

If there’s one thing that’s consistent, whether in your room, or a hallway, or anywhere else, video screens, seem crammed in unlikely places, and are ubiquitous. They’re all black at the moment, and some are cracked, looking like they might never come on.

The only place that really seems lively, and as if anyone’s been occupying it in recent times, is an area that looks something like a bar.

Its not quite this populated yet.

The bar-like area is decorated in an odd assortment of paper decorations and streamers, a small banner that reads ‘Happy New Year!’ strung near one of the tables, which is piled with the only available food. There’s cake, a variety of snacks, shrimp cocktail, an ample supply of  glasses of champagne. And almost all of them taste wrong. Some items might taste exactly as you’d expect them, others taste distinctly like something they should not, and those shrimp have the notable taste of absolutely nothing. Something is definitely not right here.

When the screens come on, there’s an audible electronic popping noise, and a woman’s face appears on the screen. The image has some static, but there’s something strange about the woman as well; something...insubstantial.


“Welcome, everyone, to Station Red! I hope you like what we’ve prepared for you here...I apologize, it’s something of a work in progress. We are working with limited resources here and your arrival was somewhat….unexpected. It’s been a long time since we’ve had dealings with anyone from your particular coordinates.” She smiles broadly. “I almost forgot, my name is Solan Re. I’m the Senior Case worker for, ah...well for you. On your behalf.

Take your time and enjoy the refreshments we've provided you - they're as culturally accurate as we could manage with our somewhat limited resources, informational or otherwise. In the meantime, I am here to answer your questions as, I'm sure you have many. I will answer them to the absolute BEST of my ability!"

Comments

Vevilan | NPC

[jcw_vevilan]

In the corner of the bar stands a woman (or, at least, a woman like object). She's not quite in the shadows, and not quite not in the shadows, but even so, it's hard to get a good look at her. Although, once you can get a decent look, she looks normal. Young, maybe, but. Normal.

She stands, serene, her arms tucked neatly behind her back as she awaits for you to notice her.

"Greetings and Solutions, newcomers. I am Vevilan, the minor for Solan Re--Ah, sorry, junior to Solan Re. I am here to answer any questions you might have if you would feel more comfortable asking them in person."

She smiles.

[likethelight]

[ Allen's re-dressed himself back in his uniform—his old black and red one, not the new one he found himself dressed in—by the time he enters the bar, a fluttering yellow-gold golem trailing along just over one shoulder. Far more composed now than his original outburst at thinking his master had hit him over the head and run off and left him with yet another bill, his mannerism now is very cautious.

Certainly the broadcast would be sobering enough even without his instincts beginning to itch. Noah?

Which is why, miss, you'll have to excuse him if his manners are a more terse polite than usual. It's all a little creepy and offsetting—and he's skeptical that he can't quite see her clearly. Or that she's the only one smiling. ]

Where are we? [ It's a little clipped. And faintly British. ]

[jcw_vevilan]

"You are on Station Red. Right now, you are in the 'bar' area. It is for communal hanging out with your fellows." She continues to smile. "Feel free to help yourself to the victuals we provided."

[likethelight]

[ Erm...

No thank you. ]

Where's 'Station Red'? [ Because he's pretty sure this isn't England anymore. ]

[jcw_vevilan]

She tilted her head. "Station Red is all around us. Are you experiencing visual deficiencies? The care we provide is hit or miss with your species."

[perroquet]

"Solutions to you as well! I am Gildor."

It's said while sliding one of the complimentary glasses of champagne across the bar counter to her. He thinks he's extremely clever for that. Hopefully it doesn't taste like horseradish, because it definitely smelled like it when he'd picked up another couple of glasses.

"I certainly would like some answers from a not disembodied voice. Please tell me, what is the name of this tavern and were you present when I drank a million-million gold's worth of alcohol last night? Because I rightfully don't remember, nor understand how I've survived it."

Whether or not he really believes that's where his bill came from, it's not stopping him from draining his own horseradish champagne.

"Also, were you the one who undressed me? Because if so, we need to have a chat about consent."

[jcw_vevilan]

The glass sits untouched on the counter. When she speaks, her voice sounds only mildly discordant, an improvement over her initial greeting.

"This is Station Red. The bar does not possess a unique name, but if you and your fellows would like to come up with a name for the eatery, please, let us know. We would be happy to file a change of name form.

"I was not present for your intake here, nor for your processing. I am your case worker; I only assist with your cases, not your bodies."

She sounds faintly scandalised.

[perroquet]

He may be working on emptying his own glass, but he's listening too, quite closely. The bar is sparse with less background chatter than he's used to, and he catches every hint in her inflection as he comes back up, especially the hint of offense.

"My apologies."

Apologies for his assumption, or that she didn't get to handle their bodies? Could be one could be the other.

"What sort've cases are you assistin' us with then? And is this station with a nameless tavern indeed red? I'd love a description of the place if you could."

His magic has not been able to pick up on much past the closed doors with their wired locks. He feels rusty as the edges of the walls.

[jcw_vevilan]

Her head tilts; it is the most movement she has made since he came over, and it highlights how very still she is.

"We, that is, Senior Solan Re and I, are to help you with your adjustment to Station Red. Which is not red inside, no. It is..." She pauses. "It is as close to comfortable as we could make it for you. It is homey and welcoming, is it not?"

(No, no it really isn't. The bar itself is old, worn out and, as Gildor noticed, somewhat rusted. There is a generous amount of floor space, but aside from the stools at the bar and the two smallish couches along the far wall, there isn't much in the way of seating. It's a poor combination of poorly lit and spotlighted with lights that are either too green or too orange.)

Somewhat flustered, she adds, "I'm sorry, I don't. I am not sure what to say. You are blind."

[perroquet]

Much like Vevilan, Gildor makes no move when she apologetically denies him a description.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate or understand general information about my surroundings. Jus' means you might need to get a little more creative about it.

For example, my description for this Station Red so far would be... open and sparse, and it's halls are sprawling, winding, twisting, but not organically like a branch. It's more... mechanical, I guess. I also have the impression of being underground, as I have felt no sunlight nor anything on the walls besides patchy metal and humming glass. And much like this drink, it seems as if it is trying to be something it is not."

He twirls the neck of the champagne glass between slender fingers for a beat, swirling the few remaining bubbles inside.

"Homey and welcoming."

Though he quickly adds in an understanding tone, perhaps to avoid any more offense-

"But it is trying. So why don't you?"

[jcw_vevilan]

She pursed her lips. When she spoke again, it was with a discomforted air.

"Many pardons, you are the first others I have interacted with. I did not mean to cause offence. If you would like to file a complaint, I can facilitate that.

"Your descriptions seem accurate; I will try to keep such parameters in mind for the future. Most of Station Red is below ground for protection and shelter. This is too the reason for it's...lacking nature. Do you have any suggestions for where we went wrong? I can not promise to fix these, but I will file it for the future."

She does not, however, specify for whose protection and shelter.

[perroquet]

"And you are the first of the residents I've spoken to. I promise taken no offense and have few complaints of importance. You've been quite helpful thus far."

Like her stillness her quiet distress is noted, and Gildor folds his arms across the old bar top casually, comfortably. He is, and has been for most of this time, smiling. He'd rather everyone be at ease.

"As far as suggestions... perhaps some music would help make the space more welcoming-" because ninety-nine percent of the time, the answer to any problem with him is music, "and I may be able to help with that."

"But first, please tell me - what exactly is this underground place protecting us from? Are we below the Wylds?"

Us. Because so far, he has no reason to believe those operating this establishment would not want to protect them. They are inside after all, and have received housing, clothes, sustenance, and a bill... and if that bill is to ever be paid back, they probably should be kept alive, protected from whatever it is beyond these walls.

[jcw_vevilan]

"Thank you for your feedback. I am glad to be able to be of service." The slight strain from her voice has eased and it is back to its careful blandness. "If you would wish to play, there are no rules against it, but I would recommend asking your fellows first.

"Station Red is protecting you from our world. Regretfully, the nature of our planet is such that were you to step outside into it, you would most certainty perish. We have done our best to ensure your continued survival within these walls, however."

[leanandgreen]

"Solutions?" There's a confused frown on the green kid's face. "Hold up, isn't the correct word, like, salu-lations or something?"

[jcw_vevilan]

"Hmm. Perhaps. Our knowledge of your cultures is very limited."

Tilting her head, she asks, "Are you well? We hope your intake was processed smoothly."

[leanandgreen]

"I'm okay, I guess. Y'know, aside from the whole "getting yanked out of my home dimension" thing, and the massive bill that I woke up to..." He puts his hands on his hips, scowling. "What gives with that, anyway?!"

[jcw_vevilan]

"Unfortunately, the technology that brought you here is immensely expensive to power, as is the repairs and upgrades we had to perform to you and your fellows."

[leanandgreen]

Beast Boy just stares, utterly dumbfounded. "Is that... Is that even legal?!"

[jcw_vevilan]

"Yes. We are very careful to not bend or bruise any laws and regulations here at Red Shift."

[leanandgreen]

"Okay but, NEWS FLASH, none of us ASKED to be brought here or... "upgraded", or whatever!"

Re: Vevilan | NPC

[murdercat]

"Excuse me."

[He walks past a minimum of three view screens (with the pre-recorded motion pictures), to the only person in the bar who doesn't seem to be bewildered. He will get answers, or by god, someone will suffer!]

"I assume you're the one to see about this?!"

[He holds out the flimsy piece of paper as if it's a weapon in its own right, or as if it has the power to give someone a life sentence (which may not be entirely untrue!).]

[jcw_vevilan]

"Do you have the means to recompense your bill?"

[murdercat]

"Bill for what?!"

[Now Mordecai, yelling will get you nowhere. He clenches his jaw, purses his lips, and attempts to settle down, though the next few sentences are hissed more than spoken]

"I don't know what game you're trying to pull, but I don't particularly enjoy being cheated. You have no right to hold us here, and I, for one, refuse to pay--..."

[He glances down at the bill and shakes his head angrily]

"...--whatever it is you're charging us. I'm not accustomed to funding human trafficking, when you're attempting to extort someone, it normally helps to make clear your terms and conditions!"

[It hadn't occurred to him before now that this might be a very convoluted federal scheme. Push someone the right way, lead them through a ringer, and one would be more prone to trip up. Better had dance around the subject of Law a bit more carefully... he would not like to implicate himself through silence if they broached more... sensitive topics. Besides, they could only be held for.... what, two days at the most?]

[jcw_vevilan]

"The bill is for the energy and supplies you used. It is listed right there, clearly itemized."

Of course, that doesn't help if you can't read the language.

"I'm sorry, Mister Heller, but under our laws, we do have the right to hold you here. You should be glad; our planet is not habitable for your kind. Should you leave Station Red, you will surely perish."

[murdercat]

[There wasn't enough time in the world to explain all of the fallacies he was presented with.

...but it wouldn't sit right with him if he didn't counter at least a few.]

"Not habitable?! Then send us back! I don't care how bad the storm has gotten, its going to end eventually."

[Wouldn't it? If they were on a different planet, he had no idea what the weather systems were like. Regardless, they were brought here somehow. He gestures at the bill again.]

"This is beyond illegible, this-... this is gibberish! What supplies, and what energy? What are we being charged in? What is its purchasing parity?! And what is this even written-... no, what are you speaking to me right now? How..."

[He goes still and his eyes narrow.]

"...How do you know my name?"