fluxscape | Arrivals - Beachville

Who: You and Jerry, the info booth guy!
What: Arrivals! Information! Money! New Homes!
Where: What's commonly referred to as the Information Hub.
When: August 15th, Mid Afternoon.
Synopsis: New faces arrive in Beachville. Jerry is a helper! Probably! Most likely, he isn't. At least, not as well as people wish. He can only tell people so much, see. But there are cookies, if you aren't a jerk.

It starts off simple enough. There isn't even any warning. No feeling like something's coming. No little instinct in the back of your head or what have you that tells you change is coming. You blink, your setting has changed. It's as simple and as quick as that. From where you stand, you're surrounded by tall palm trees. The ground beneath your feet is a mix of dirt and sand and you can smell the ocean. A clean, salty scent only found on untouched, tropical paradises. You can hear the sounds of the beach. People laughing, amusement park rides thundering in the background. And it's actually pretty peaceful. Even the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of Summer heat without being muggy or humid. There are tropical birds singing in the trees around you, and a light breeze in the trees, rustling the leaves. It's pleasant. Until someone clears their throat nearby. And this is when you notice you're not the only person standing there with a confused look on your face. You're part of a crowd, surrounding an information booth with an older gentleman inside.

Was that information booth always there? And how long has the man inside been watching you with that look on his face that suggests he's internally sighing at your presence? He seems friendly enough, however, and once all eyes are on him, he begins speaking.

"Can I have your attention please?" he says, voice calm, lightly accented. And certainly 'no nonsense.' "My name is Jerry Schiff and I run the information booth. I have several envelopes with names on them, so if you hear your name, please step forward and claim your money and information."

With that, he runs down the list of names. And what do you know, your name is on that list.

When you approach, you'll be handed a packet containing money, enough to get through the month, and an information pamphlet about Beachville, along with a note from the mayor welcoming you to town and telling you your stipend only lasts so long and there are many employment opportunities in town. There's also a map with an address and a set of keys. This is where you'll live. The last thing he says to you is to check the chest in your living-room, you'll know which one, before he hands the polite people a box of cookies. They smell amazing and the box is warm, like they're very, very fresh. You might even find your favorite cookies in the box. They've won awards and are delicious. Just as an aside, though; for anyone that's rude, no cookies. For anyone that tries to take a box anyway, they'll find the box is empty. Maybe even full of dead leaves and rocks. That's what you get for acting up, apparently.

Rude enough and he'll shut the information booth windows. No amount of knocking and screaming, magic or psychic abilities will get the doors open again. The booth is pretty resistant, as is the man inside.

Once everyone has their information, Jerry will thank everyone for their cooperation, close the booth down and head into town. Try to follow him. After rounding a corner, he'll seem to vanish and no amount of looking will find him again.

It seems as though the only things left to do are either talk to the people around you, or find your new home.

[ooc: please warn for anything triggery in your threads! thanks! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Athol smiled, reaching out to take a cookie. "Thank you."

Consulting his map to double check, he nodded. "Indeed it does," he confirmed. "Do you think they've given us places to stay? No strings attached?" He sounded skeptical. There were always strings.

"There're always strings," he sighed, taking a moment to get his bearings before he started walking in the direction of the apartments. "But beggars can't be choosers, I guess, and this is definitely the nicest kidnapping I've ever been the victim of," he flashed a little grin. "Maybe it's just alien scientists doing an observational study. Observation is nice," probing, not so much.

"Aliens?" he repeated, a little bemused. "I'm a little concerned about why that's your first thought." Or the hoped for scenario. He supposed he could easily think of much worse situations, but aliens had never been one of his considerations.

That got a snort and a smile. "I'd rather deal with aliens than robots?" he offered lightly. "I haven't personally dealt with them, but we've had a few invasions where I'm from. They're usually a lot messier than this, but I'd rather deal with them than robots. Or nazis, quite frankly. You never heard about the battle of New York? Or that dark elf nonsense in London?"

Robots? Nazis? Alien invasions?

Slowly, Athol shook his head. "I've never heard about any of those things." Which, you would think he would've, if an alien invasion had happened or something. "Though I've probably dealt with a few nazis before."

Well, that was weird. He'd heard of Nazis but not the rest of it, which meant he was probably from earth, but if he was he either lived under a rock or was from a different earth.

He wasn't sure he wanted to think too hard about that. "Well, if you come across any nazis here, give 'em an extra punch for me," he said with a little nod. He's just going to ignore the rest of it entirely. It's easier that way.

It'd be even easier if he could just go back to raising the stupid goats.

Athol nodded. "That, I can do," he promised. He'd do more than punch them, but that wasn't a topic fit to be discussed around strangers.

"So if it is aliens," he said, going back to an earlier point, "What do you think they want from us?" What information could they gain from observing people?

He shrugged his shoulders. "World domination like everybody else, probably," he rolled his eyes. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty well known for my fighting abilities back home." It didn't come across as boastful, just a simple statement of fact. "And at least one of the other people who arrived with us is strong and smart enough to keep up with me."

And that started with observation? He supposed that was a good way to start; it was how he began most of his missions.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I served a few years in the military. I'm not bad, myself." It was an understatement, but the most private thing he was willing to share with someone he'd just met. "I doubt I could take on aliens, though." He was joking.

"You'd be surprised," Bucky replied with a lopsided smile. "Most of them are about as vulnerable to bullets as everything else. It's the shock factor that gives them the advantage." He flashed an easy smile. "I have some friends that were at the Battle of New York, fighting off the first alien invasion attempt. Mr. Rich over there was with 'em," he gestures in the direction of Tony Stark's fancy facial hair.

Athol nodded. He didn't know exactly what he thought of when he pictured aliens. He was torn between everything the media portrayed them as and his own thoughts that they must be technologically advanced and so in control of amazing weapons that would put anything Earth had to shame.

"Tell me more about this Battle of New York," he said, "If you don't mind." If there was anything more to tell. He'd never heard of it before and his curiosity had been piqued.

"Sure," he replied with a little grin. "Though take it with a couple grains of salt -- most of what I know is from the news reels," he warned, and told Athol what he knew. There was an alien that also happened to be a god straight out of Norse mythology, and a hole in the sky, and lots of fighting. Another god-alien, also from Norse mythology, and his best friend punching aliens in the face occasionally. "I never asked Steve much about it, but he said they tried to nuke Manhattan just to stop the aliens -- that's the only part I'm sure is completely true -- and that Tony sent it through the wormhole before it blew. It must've hit somethin' important because all the aliens just... died. Even the big eel-looking things in the sky just plopped down, right in the middle of the street, dead as a doornail," he shook his head. "I'm glad I wasn't there; with my luck, one would've landed on me."

Athol listened quietly while Bucky spoke, nodding here and there but never interrupting him until he was finished. There were many things he was good at, and listening was one of them. Besides that, he wanted to make sure that any of his potential questions weren't answered in a moment or two if he'd simply been patient.

"That's...a lot." To put it lightly. "It sounds much more serious than I'd imagined." And he'd imagined that an alien invasion would be pretty serious. "What was it they wanted?" he asked.

"I have to admit, I'm pretty glad I sat that one out," Bucky agrees, and shrugs his shoulder at the question. "What is it that any invasion wants? Complete and total world domination," he rolled his eyes.

"That's boring," Athol said. "Everyone always wants to dominate." There was so much more in life than that. Unless they'd needed resources or land or something, that would be slightly different.

Bucky snorted softly. "Boring, but better than some of the alternatives. At least it's pretty straightforward."

Arrivals - Beachville - OPEN LOG

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