agogelogs | THE AMAZING BASE.

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THE AMAZING BASE.

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Welcome home, nerds.
WHEN? Outside time and space, in the aether between dimensions.
ANYTHING ELSE? There is also a fish. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

MYSTERY FISH;

question the mystery fish

DEPARTING GALLIPOLI

The order comes the day after the Marie Antoinette sets sail:

PACK UP AND GET READY TO MOVE OUT. WE'VE DONE ALL WE CAN HERE.

DEPLOYMENT: BASE.

WE NEED TO RESTOCK. BE PREPARED FOR MORE TRANSFERS ON ARRIVAL.

STAY SAFE. TIME-STEP EXPECTED TO BEGIN WITHIN THE HOUR.

FOR THOSE OF YOU NEW TO COST: FIND A SECLUDED SPOT AND TRY NOT TO EAT ANYTHING BEFORE THE JUMP.

The Time-Step

The transfer begins like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, just a hum of sensation.

But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomenon as "the buzz". The feeling builds, not unlike standing near a great engine or the wind-rattled branches of a massive tree. There is a long moment of motion sickness and you can't be sure if the world is shaking you from the inside out or the outside in. It may be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea, as the world blurs out of focus.

A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Others say they feel a touch of the divine, that the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle and nothing more than the suggestion of sound. Or maybe it's only an illusion, brought on by the powerful technology grafted into your skin.

One thing is for sure: One moment you are here and the next you are not.

The shift takes you from whatever solitude you could find aboard the Marie Antoinette to the temperature-regulated hallway of what looks like a very poorly put together space station. Droids rush up and down the long hallway, fixing broken bits of machinery or just chattering with each other. A few crows sit on high ledges, looking down and watching. Someone mutters something about a centaur around the corner.

And you might just notice, provided you were in Gallipoli long enough to acquire stowaways, that the parasites lurking on your skin are mercifully gone.

For new arrivals who didn't experience Gallipoli: You, too, will appear in this long hallway, filled with droids and crows and humans (still filthy and clad in ANZAC uniforms, carrying battered equipment from the first World War). And you'll be wearing the minimal COST-issued athletic underwear and holding whatever one item you were allowed to bring. Surprise!

READ THE BASE INFOPAGE.

home away from home

Those who have been to BASE before may find a strangeness to it all: BASE seems...still. The windows show a verdant world instead of the usual aether (though with the typical paranoia), and the halls are bereft of all but a few crows. A man stands at the end of the long hallway you arrived in, waiting for you to get your bearings before he speaks.

Except, you know, he's not a man. He's a centaur.

"It's been barely a week since you left, by my reckoning. But for you, I'm sure, it's been much longer. Still, much has changed. You may have noticed we are...becalmed. This is due, it seems, to an error in our ways. We kept something that does not belong to us, several wild creatures that are meant to be free. They seem to have psychically called out to their home, and their home responded; we are now somewhat stranded.

"But let me explain—the Aether is the nexus between worlds and times, but it is not a dead thing. Creatures live in it. We have crashed onto the back of one such creature, a mighty beast, as large as a small country and entirely undiscovered. We have found why the creature has intercepted us: we have accidentally taken captive some of its children. Shapers, the wild creatures I mentioned, it seems they form a symbiotic bond with the creature, and live happily within its stomach."

He frowns, considering this.

"Shapers, I should mention, are creatures that briefly infested our fair BASE. The issue was dealt with, though we kept some for experimentation. The coelacanth took issue with this, it seems. It can speak, of course; we are stranded very near its head, and if you wish to ask it a question, I implore you to do so. The creature is older than creation—older than me—and only speaks once to any creature it encounters. It's said its wisdom brings kings to their knees."

His eyes crinkle in humor.

"My name is Chiron and I am the caretaker of this place, for those of you whom I have not had the pleasure of meeting. More importantly, I am a trainer and a teacher of some experience; if you wish training or schooling of any sort, do summon me. I will be happy to assist."

He's easy to contact, often found in the library, the training area, his capsule, or elsewhere in the station, attempting to fix what he understands and arguing with crows.

"We intended to spend this time exploring, for this is a rare opportunity to discover more of an entirely uncharted world. I hasten you to see if anything on the coelacanth can be of use, but be careful. Take only what you need, not what you may want. I intend to learn my lessons well; these creatures are not pets. Takes food, water, and any materials of use to us for our survival and perseverance, but no more. We task you with this: explore the coelacanth, and see what of it can be understood. Bring us back samples, but do try to interrupt the natural habitat as little as possible. We are guests here."

He bows and the action shows a slight limp in one of his back legs.

"I would join you, but I am far too old for such activities. Still, do pepper me with any questions you should encounter. I am always available on the network, or in person, within this hulking mass we call home."

And then he leaves you to find your capsules and rest.

CAPSULE ASSIGNMENTS

Once you've found your room and settled in—perhaps taken a shower, collected clothes, and eaten—a droid will approach you with camping equipment and give you a brief explanation of how to access and use the database. It's time to get your gear and go.

Of course, you can decline. You can stay and tend to the fort, maybe try and clean up this patchwork jumble of metal and machinery. But seeing the sights on the back of a giant fish flying through non-space? Who can say no to that?

the undiscovered country.

BASE's airlocks open into a lush valley, vibrant with color and rustling with life that has thrived on the coelacanth's back for millennia. It's a striking shift from the rot and gunfire of Gallipoli, unmarked by shrapnel, bombshells, and never-fresh air.

No, the air here is clean in a way that can leave you breathless, untouched by pollutants and stirred into a gentle breeze. It's a marked departure for anyone used to a more modern Earth or rough equivalent; letting the air sit on your tongue leaves a crisp, unsullied taste behind. And the whole forest feels alive, in a way that reminds you of how small you really are.

A white crow perches in a tree near BASE's exit, too high up to properly engage but a stark contrast to the bright leaves around her. She merely watches recruits come and go with a shrewd eye, feathers fluffed against the light chill. There are other crows scattered throughout the wilderness, some easier to find than others as they flit through the trees, sit on camping equipment, or hitch rides on the hoverbikes.

Besides those brief flashes of black feathers, however, you're left unsupervised.

Try not to fuck up anything too badly.

EXPLORE:INFOPAGE|DATABASE
talk to a fish | destruction report

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a snort in response to Midnighter's admonition. "You knew the plan. Didn't think I'd have to lay it out for you in a paint by numbers."

And now comes the second part of the plan and admittedly more difficult. John has never scaled, cleaned, or butchered a fish, which is made immediately apparent. The boiling has nullified the numbing properties of the skin, a hollow victory as John kneels beside the creature and hacks away with his knife. He's seen what fish look like in the packaging and in the restaurants, but uh, this is not it. Meat from the half cooked fish parts from its body in mismatched, uneven chunks.

When he thinks he's made enough "fillets," John drops them directly back on to the carcass and reignites the flame over his hand, using the body of the moon mist as a cooking surface.

"This smells as terrible as you look. A gallant man such as yourself should probably have the first bite."

Midnighter smiles and rolls his eyes as he sits down and watches this little display. "Next time, I buy. This is fucking pathetic."

It looks disgusting, smells awful, but he knows a challenge when he hears it. "You're not just saying that because I'm probably immune to toxins?" He picks up a lumpy chunk of charred flesh. "Definitely immune to food poisoning. Well, bottoms up."

And he tosses a bit in his mouth. Chews... slowly. Winces slight. "Burn it more."

"I hope by 'buy' you mean something from a proper store."

John knows he's not cut out for camping and has no problem admitting the obvious. But burning the fish further, that's something he can do. Flame burns hotter and brighter in his hand and he turns the chunk of meat to the other side for just as much of a char.

Legs unfurl from under him as John flops from his kneeling position to a more comfortable sit. He then tosses the new piece toward Midnighter, only saying a lazy "catch" once the fish leaves his hand.

"You get what you pay for, babe," Midnighter says, because if he's going to flirt, he might as well be covered in second degree burns and eating questionable sushi while insulting someone. That just seems par for the course, lately. Hey, he hasn't run away screaming, yet."

He catches the fish chunk without apparent effort, not even looking down when his hand closes around it. Midnighter pops it into his mouth without hesitation, chews, swallows. "I've had worse," he says. "Pretty sure it's edible for normals. You wanna try, or live in suspense?"

The question makes John laugh and the insult puts him at ease. Maybe it's a little backwards, but he's never been very good with the expected. He notices the easy catch followed by subsequent use of the word normals. Must have something to do with that wreck of skin.

John cocks his head to the side with a sly lift of the eyebrows. "You clearly don't know me very well, squire. But you can change that if you like." He extinguishes the fire and stabs his own chunk of fish square in the middle, holding it aloft and taking a large bite from the corner. There's a mild wrinkle of the nose as he swallows. It's not... great. But just like his dinner companion he's had much worse.

"I usually know someone's name if they're lucky enough to find themselves with a second date. What's yours? Unless of course you'd prefer me to remember you by those striking burns alone."

Midnighter laughs, a rough sound accompanying a rough voice to begin with. "Yeah, that's me, second degree." The burns on his body are already healing. Not quickly, not enough to notice if you stare... but if you looked away and looked back fifteen or so minutes later, there'd be some noticeable improvement.

But that's not the point. "Midnighter. Or 'M', if you want. It's a mouthful for most people." He takes another stab at the fish thing, squinting slightly as he spits out a tiny bone. "What about you? Clearly not a chef."

John feigns offense, pointing at Midnighter with the knife still holding a partially eaten fillet. "I'll have you know I cook a fantastic breakfast, thank you." He brings the knife back to his mouth to take another bite.

"John Constantine, though I usually only hear the latter if I've pissed someone off." The single, and admittedly unique, name doesn't really rattle him. He's heard plenty others like it already. "I like Midnighter though, I'm no stranger to a mouthful." Eyyy. "No relation to anyone named Papa Midnite, are you? Because if that's the case I'm going to have to ask for my fish back."

John Constantine... Papa Midnite... it sounds familiar, but Midnighter can't place it. Probably some bullshit that's gotten mixed up in his subconscious. Happens rarely, but it happens. He shrugs and keeps eating. "I like Midnighter, too. And mouthfuls." He pops another chunk of fish in his mouth, swallowing it whole, without chewing. Midnighter's flirting often leaves something to be desired, but there's nothing like proving you have no gag reflex to a stranger to fill in the gaps, right?

Right.

"No relations to anybody. All part of my tragic backstory. Also part of why I'm not dead. You're not a detective, either, huh, Johnny."

Well. John had never expected to have his interest piqued via fish swallowing but there it was. He hides nothing in his gaze, watching the lump of fish travel down Midnighter's throat.

"I am a detective, actually, though not the kind you're used to." Exactly what he does in investigating things that go bump in the night can be better explained at another time. "For example, you don't consider yourself a normal person because you aren't. There's that remarkable healing, tragic backstory of course, and that personality of yours. It's not exactly for everybody is it?"

It's around now when John wishes he had a cigarette, but he'll settle for another bite before setting down his meal. "But I enjoy it. It's not everyday I meet someone as foolhardy as myself, and moreover, heals up quite nicely without a shirt."

"The word for that's observant," Midnighter says, but he's still smiling. "I'm observant, too."

But he doesn't share what he's observed.

"You're saying you have a taste for weirdos? Not that I'm complaining." He'd better gauge exactly what John's level of interest is, here, because he knows what he wants it to be, and... if he's being particularly candid with himself, he hates rejection.

John wipes his hands down the front of his trousers, doing his best to clean his palms. The smile draws him in and John rises to once again kneel. In a quick movement he pivots to plant his knees on either side of Midnighter's hips. Placing his hands firmly along Midnighter's jawline, John pulls the other man toward him for an aggressive kiss.

If there was any room for ambiguity before, there's none now, and John takes as long as he likes despite the meal shared between them. If this is going to continue they could both do with a shower and tooth brushing.

"Weirdo tastes very much like fish but I suppose I can live with it."

He follows the statement with a wink, leaving his hands on Midnighter's face.

The computer says there's a steadily increasing likelihood that the enemy is going to headbutt him, and then bite his lips off. This, Midnighter has learned, means he's about to be kissed. The computer doesn't understand, or care to calculate for, human affection or sexuality. It sees everything as a threat, and that's--

So much less nice than a kiss. Midnighter hasn't been kissed since... since Matt. It's so indescribably nice to get that out of his system. Matt is no longer the last person who held his face, or kissed him, or... stuck his tongue in his mouth. Well, no argument there. Midnighter returns the kiss with enthusiasm, sighing with pleasure when it ends. He can't quite stop smiling, and it's still the sharp grin of before-- his expressions are always sharp, something about the cut of his face-- but it reaches his eyes, now.

"So does magician, or whatever the fuck you are." His voice is low with affection, despite his words. "Have you discovered the impressive assortment of showers back on the tin can they had us living in?"

"Magician will do."

John too grins, and though the suggestion is a sensible one that practically read his mind, it's still difficult to move. If there was any fairness in the world they wouldn't be next to a dead fish in the middle of the woods and they could continue from here. But the world was never fair and thankfully the situation was merely an inconvenience rather than a complete hindrance.

Where Midnighter's feature's are sharp, John's are narrow, with an almost perpetual expression of mischief. Though he doesn't always intend to look as if he's planning something, the quality becomes even more pronounced now. "Been to the showers once. But I am new, so you'll have to remind me." He ducks back in for another quick kiss, followed immediately after by removing one of his hands to give Midnighter a quick clap to his shoulder. "And quickly, because you smell terrible."

"Huh. Never fucked a magician." Because, well. Better make that crystal fucking clear. So it's in the interest of communication that Midnighter slaps his ass as soon as they're both standing. He makes sure it's soon, grabbing John's hand and pulling it with him as he rises to his feet. Covered in burns and dirt and blood that's mostly not his, he looks fucking awful, and probably smells worse.

He can't decide what it means, that this weirdo is showing an interest. Probably nothing, though. Or he's got some kind of fetish for freaks. Whatever.

Midnighter begins walking back in the direction of BASE. "I'll give you the grand tour, since you're so fucking friendly."

John had somewhat anticipated the slap, but the grabbing of his hand is completely unexpected. He's not about to complain, the physicality is a welcome change to the severity of BASE. Though Midnighter doesn't have to make anything clear, John is under no illusion as to their purpose of going back, he appreciates that the other man does. It's good to not be the only aggressively forward one for once.

"And I've never fucked a burn victim before, so we can call it even."

As they leave John bends to pluck his knife back from the fish. No reason to leave behind a resource.

He walks briskly alongside Midnighter, cleaning the knife on the front of his shirt as they make their way. "All I want to see of this grand tour is a shower with you in it followed by your capsule, in that order."

"A burn victim of your creation, remember. But you did wine me and dine me, so I figure I better repay you."

Midnighter whistles low through a uniquely shit-eating grin. "Oh, this one's got an agenda. Fucking love a planner. Fine, been meaning to try that bed out, anyway."

"Still a burn victim. You're lucky I remember what you look like with your skin on."

Everything does go according to plan. First the shower, then the capsule.

And considering how Midnighter was looking forward to trying the bed, it was only prudent to have another go.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

THE AMAZING BASE.

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