RPGWW

by **Spleen** » Sat Jun 06, 2009 6:48 pm

The most likely universe is completely empty.

The probability of matter existing is astronomically less than the probability of matter not existing. Therefore, it is logical that there are more universes without matter than there are with matter. However, the number of empty universes is infinite, and the number of universes with matter is infinite, so the number of empty universes and the number of universes with matter are the same number. The same is true of every other binary state: There are the same number of universes in which you exist as there are in which you do not. Therefore, it is true to say that not only does everything that can exist exist in some universe, but everything that can exist exists in an infinite number of universes, ones that differ from others like it by as little as a single subatomic event.

Travel between universes with the technology possessed by the Precinct is only possible at certain intervals - a certain number of dissimilar factors must exist between universes for travel between them to be possible. This is important for several reasons: One, if there is a problem in one universe, there is little chance of finding the solution close by, or of simply finding a world that is the same except the problem is not happening. Two, regardless of how tenacious an archetype is, you will never meet the same exact person on two different worlds. In other worlds, while there are an infinite number of people in the multiverse, the technology to reach them all does not exist in the Precinct's mapped worlds. Thus, even in an infinity, each person is unique in some ways.

This is one of the first lessons of training as an agent of the Precinct.

The call was sent out.

Rendezvous at location
Universe coordinates 259-3.1-99:33
Planet coordinates 0000,0000,0000
Latitude 29.964722337409
Longitute −90.070556921788
Wing B, Room 345 - Section Chief Chon-Marshak's office

Earth, in a universe where amino acids never formed in enough volume to produce life. Planet Zero: Precinct Command.

At those coordinates is an office complex, linked to the rest of Precinct Command by a maze of interconnecting tunnels. There is an all-purpose full gate portal nearby, about ten minutes away on foot, accessible from any gate portal on any safe world instantaneously. Chon-Marshak's office is on the third floor, behind an oak door with their name on it. The office is kept very humid for Chon-Marshak's comfort and decorated with potted jungle plants.

(Each of you would have been given a way to receive messages like the above if you had none already. If you have worked for the Precinct before, you should already know where Chon-Marshak's office is, because they are your section chief.)

by **darkknight61189** » Sat Jun 06, 2009 7:31 pm

"Thank you so much for finding him," a beautiful lady said, finishing off a check.

"No problem at all. I'm sorry that he didn't want to come back with you." The speaker was leaning back in an office chair behind an elegant desk. He wore a white trench coat and a white fedora was sitting on the table. On the open door's frosted window, "Rick Spade, PI" was printed in black. Just as the woman finished signing off on the check, Rick, reached into his trench coat and took out a black, blocky cellphone. He looked at, tapped a few buttons on it, then stuffed it back away, looking back up and smiling at his client.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Clifford, but I'm afraid I've got to go," he said this as he stood up, putting his fedora on, "Thank you and I hope you have a nice day." He then escorted her out of his office and closed the door. He walked over to the bookcase against the wall and pushed it aside, revealing an elevator. He stepped in and pressed a button that would bring him to the ground floor. He stepped out into an alley and quickly found the street. He put his hand in his trench coat and pulled out what looked like a white metal box a foot wide. He pressed a button on it, then placed it on the ground as it slowly morphed into a white gleaming motorcycle. He hopped on and drove off. As he drove, he passed stores and shops, slowly watching the landscape morph from upscale to downscale. He passed a number of restaurants that he knew to avoid, being the headquarters for a few local mafias. He also passed some alleys he knew housed some of the best places to get a drink.

He finally stopped outside a run down restaurant. He got off his motorcycle, pressed a button to shrink his vehicle and stuff it into his trench coat, which didn't show any sign of a bulge from the large object, and walked inside. He took the stairs down to the basement, then pushed aside a fake wine rack filled with empty bottles. Behind it was a silver door frame, with a number of buttons. He stepped up to and activated it, and his trench coat was swept back by the mild breeze that came out of the scintillating portal. He stepped in, and the wine rack swung closed behind him.

When he stepped out the other side, he fought back a slight feeling of nausea. He hated traveling through the portal.

"Welcome back, Mr. Spade," a cheery blonde said.

"Glad to be back, sweetcheeks," he said with a smile, then walked off the platform. "Boss-man in?"

"Yup, he's waiting for you. How's the Prohibition?"

"Thirsty."

by **Christian** » Sun Jun 07, 2009 6:03 pm

The workshop of an officially sanctioned researcher was, in many ways, limited only by the imagination and personal funds of its owner. Some of the more successful (or, as their less successful counterparts would put it, mainstream) had vast complexes with dozens of research assistants, countless experiments going on at the same time and even a decent security-force to ensure that none of their discoveries would be misappropriated by even more ambitious, and less conservative colleagues.

The workshop of Dr. Adannaya Brearley, however, was hardly what you would consider big. The young woman, despite having earned the title of Master of the Fourth Ring of Applied Science within a year of graduation, had thrown herself into the research of electricity, a field so dead-end most hardly considered it worth the while. If having chosen an impoverished field of study was not enough, Dr. Brearley also had this strange inclination not to use her knowledge to earn more than her yearly allowance of state. Most technocrats were encouraged to aide the masses in whatever ways possible, but unless the masses were in a desperate need of a set of spinning metallic half-circles the size of a small room, emitting electrical discharges enough to throw people off their feet and make their hearts race (and kill small animals instantaneously), then Dr. Brearley didn't have much to offer them. Nor did she have any inkling to, for that matter.

Electricity, yes. Her entire laboratory was filled with gadgets of electrical nature, with a very small, but relevant, collection of steam-powered apparatuses that no researcher could be without, in particular the Babbage Analytical Engine (Still a prototype, but then the grandchildren of the man still kept arguing they could improve the design). The Order of Technological Progress for the Benefit of The Royal British Empire had issued a statement that at any given time, only 5 individual researchers would be permitted to study the field of practical electrical application and electronical technology, independently or in unison. No one really believed much in the whole thing, so Dr. Brearley and her colleagues were left mostly to their own engine. It was, in fact, a pity that the young scientist, despite her obvious racial handicap (she was, after all, a half-breed savage on her mother's side), would let her talent go to waste on such a dead-end field of research.

Dr. Adannaya Brearley. Yes. The young woman was currently in the process of removing a panel of the quite life-like ivory on her left arm, one of many pieces that seamlessly melded together with ivory to make a frighteningly realistic limb. the sleeve of her high-collared shirt (greasy and stained from last-night's tinkering with the spinning half-circles) rolled up and a small screwdriver rested in her mouth. Her face was a mask of impatient focus as her green eyes stared fixatedly at the revealed panel, the machination of her arm laid bare to her eyes, metallic pistons and cogs whirring and clicking inside as the pinkie of her left hand, ebony-black and smooth, was twitching ever so slightly. Her right hand went to her mouth, the small mechanisms inside barely audible through the cover, and she took out the screwdriver, bringing it to her left arm as a pair of large, multi-lensed goggles slowly slid down over the tip of her nose, the many glass pieces rotating and shifting around as she brought the tool to work on her limb.

Dr. Brearley made no large matter over her peculiar physiology, and neither did any one with manners. She had been born a congenital amputee, missing both her arms and legs, but had miraculously survived to early childhood when her father, a clockmaker, had fashioned the first mechanical limbs for her to use. Years later, she was still using the same basic mechanism, but augmented by years of personal research.

For some time she tinkered with her arm in silence, but slowly she began to hum along with the clicks and whirrs of her laboratory. She continued to do this until suddenly a sharp and high-pitched sound cut through the murmur of machines and the young researcher stood up, letting the small panel close by itself (she'd have to press on it for it to close properly, of course) and the screwdriver fall to the floor. She hastidly pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, ignoring the increased twitching of her left pinkie as she tried to brush herself off as best she could, correcting her shirt, vest, checking her vest and her hair... her glasses! She quickly turned a wind-up key and the large goggles on her face exhaled a small burst of steam, bellow-like leather pouches on each end sagging and sliding the heavy goggles dangerously far down her ears and nose before she hauled them off her face, quickly wiping out a pair of perfectly circular spectacles from the same pocket as the one that held her clock.

She did all this while walking into one of the less frequented parts of her laboratory. She passed a room where the servants of the family had had their quarters (she'd had to let most of them go, keeping them around was taxing her already strained purse), and then finally into her fathers' old office.

Inside things looked exactly as they had when her father had passed. A thin, thin layer of dust indicated the disappearance of Madam Bouffroue, the housekeeper, but everything from the inkwell to the tomes on her father's bookshelf remained untouched.

Everything, except two things. One was a machine creating the sound that had bothered her in her work. A pencil-lead was tracing along a continuously expelled piece of paper that was already pooling on the floor. She looked at the wavy line drawn and hurriedly went through it all before taking a deep breath.

After clearing her thoughts she looked to the second thing in the room. It was a doorframe without a passageway, standing propped up against a wall. The alabaster white of it made it seem incredibly unreal, as meticulously polished and bleached ivory...

Dr. Brearley had only gone through the door two times before, and only once had she activated it herself. No one else knew, no one else was aware of how important electricity was. No one else understood the temptations she suffered when she became witness to the potential of the spark.

But no one else could do this job.

She unhooked a small hinge on the side of the frame and let the cover fall aside, the panel inside the machination allowing her to enter the coordinates. She'd not made this thing, but had found it. No one she'd spoken to on the other side knew why her world had it, but she knew her father had been involved somehow.

As she entered the last piece of coordinates she took a step back, regretting that she'd not have time to clean herself up. But this always took precedence, so she had been told.

She stepped through the doorway and left The Royal British Imperium behind her...

...and came out on the other side in an instant. She fought the urge to fall down to her knees and empty out her breakfast on the polished floor. She'd already done that twice, and she would not do it again. As her stomach settled she got up and brushed herself off, looking around at the many other arrivals and departures.

"Stroll on..." she muttered, eyes wide as she took a few jerking steps towards the direction of Chon-Marshak's office, nodding her head politely to the receptionist. She knew the way only barely, and fell in behind a man wearing all white of a cut she was not familiar with. She'd not been in the employ of the Precinct before, having just received the most basic instructions in how to respond to calls and where to go, not to mention the rules of dimensional travel, so this was... something new.

She grabbed her left pinkie and cracked it in place, tired of the twitching. The finger gave a creak, but then stop moving about.

Sometimes violence was the only real solution...

(OOC: ...looong... anyway, here's a picture, yah.)

by **Spleen** » Sun Jun 07, 2009 7:00 pm

"Welcome, Dr. Brearley," the polished blond at the desk said, passively smiling at the technocrat - it took a lot more than a clockwork arm to impress this receptionist, and the sight of the grease-smeared young scientist failed to move one meticulously-shaped eyebrow. "You can follow Mr. Spade to the Section Chief's office, two flights up and to the left. They're expecting both of you, along with a few others."

Still smiling, the girl at the desk returned to what she'd been doing - memory training. She opened a folder on her desk and removed a transparent 8.5"x11" sheet of plastic filled margin to margin to margin with typed numbers, 12-point font. She opened her word processor and took about two minutes to glance down the page before her before turning it over and laying her right hand on the keypad of her computer station.

Several minutes of staccato tapping later, she picked up the sheet and overlaid her monitor with it, counting the mistakes.

"Twenty-eight," she mumbled, frowning for the first time. "I'm slipping."

by **darkknight61189** » Sun Jun 07, 2009 8:53 pm

Rick had only just stepped off the pedestal when the portal opened up again. He turned to take a look, curiously, at who stepped out, and saw a cute dark-skinned female step out. Rick smiled as he watched her almost vomit. Guess she's not as usual a customer.

After being told that she'd be coming with him he smiled to her and stretched a hand to shake hers. He'd seen the robotic-like arm she had, and he'd seen his fair share of strange things to not be phased. Hell, a guy on one plane he'd been sent to had five robotic arms and Rick had almost been strangled to death by the guy. She looked fairly docile.

"Hey there, babe, name's Rick Spade. Private investigator and Finder extraordinaire." He flashed a smile that made the receptionist visibly blush. While most females would find being called "babe" by a man they'd only just met offensive, Rick made it seem like there was no better word to describe a female, and most girls would even take it as a compliment. According to regular standards of attractiveness, Rick was a very handsome man. He stood 5 feet 10 inches tall and had a shock of blonde hair peeking out under his fedora. His crystal blue eyes gleamed with an inner light and his clean shaven face showed off a strong jawline. Although it was hard to judge through his coat, he held himself in such a way that you knew he could handle himself in a fight.

by **Christian** » Mon Jun 08, 2009 7:12 am

Adannaya gave the receptionist a smile as pleasant as she could muster, "Thank you, I will do so."

Her mind and stomach settling down, the young scientist pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose and turned to look at this Mr. Spade...

She took his hand, but only warily, as if not used to giving such greetings. Despite the rather frail look of her arms her grip was firm, and her fern green eyes managed to travel up to meet those of Rick, although it became obvious that she was somewhat uncomfortable with his up and front attitude.

"Hey there, babe..." she flushed slightly red at the remark, feeling at the same time a bit looked-down upon, charmed and just plain old embarrassed. In the flash of a second she was conscious of the state of her clothing and as she shook his hand she mumbled "A-Adannaya Brearley, a p-pleasure..." She shuffled slightly and she lost what little courage she'd built up, looking sideways, straightways (she was a bit on the short side, which resulted in her getting a good view of the man's chest) and just about every direction that wasn't mr Spade's eyes.

by **darkknight61189** » Mon Jun 08, 2009 1:43 pm

Oh dear. A shy one. Rick thought. Well, this wasn't the first time he'd dealt with people like this. He warmed his smile a bit more and put his hands in his pockets.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brearly. I'm sorry if I startled you," Rick said. He then turned and made sure to avoid looking straight at Adannaya. He knew he had a strong personality and he found that not focusing on the shy person made it a bit easier on them. "Well, let's head out." Rick then began walking, waving goodbye and throwing a wink at the receptionist, who waved back with one hand as her other hand continued typing.

by **Spleen** » Mon Jun 08, 2009 2:15 pm

(To prevent confusion: Joe, I took that receptionist NPC. Stop controlling her, she's mine now. Grrr.)

by **Christian** » Mon Jun 08, 2009 4:23 pm

Addy shook her head slowly, hand absentmindedly going up to fiddle with one of the narrow braids (there were quite a few) in her hair, "Oh no, no, that is quite alright, I was merely..." she seemed to grasp for words for a second, "just a bit unsettled after the whole ordeal with the dimensional portal. You see, I still haven't quite grasped the, ah, manner in which physical particals are converted and rearranged during the transportation, as the whole metaphysical process seems to be instantaneous to the best of my understanding." the scientist seemed to have either overcome her initial shock, or simply reverted to techno-babble when reaching a certain level of stress.

Her voice faded, however, as it became obvious to her that the man seemed less than interested in her theories regarding the interdimensional mass to energy to mass sequence. She hurried after him, eyes travelling to the computer station in front of the receptionist, wide with wonder at how quietly the machine seemed to be running.

by **darkknight61189** » Mon Jun 08, 2009 8:19 pm

"Oh, I haven't the slightest idea how those things work," Rick said, absently peering about. He watched people bustle around, though he never really saw anybody doing anything worth mentioning. Just bustling. "As far as I'm concerned, it's magic. Or every time I step into that door frame that light knocks me out and I'm dreaming all of this. Heck, I barely understand how my motorcycle works, let alone teleportation across dimensions and realities." With this, he laughed, more to himself than anything else.

"So, you into all that technological stuff?" he asked, glancing back at the girl.

(By the way, how old is Adannaya?)

by **Kai** » Mon Jun 08, 2009 11:48 pm

Took a lot of practice, getting this right. The first time Kestrel went through to Precinct's headquarters... it had been extremely disorienting. For one thing... "down" was far more subjective than Kestrel had ever expected would be possible. What looked from her home side to be "down" was in fact forward on the Precinct side.

She imagined her first time through had looked quite odd, feet first propelled through the air with all the velocity built up by her barely-restrained speed. Hardly dignified, but... at least the confusion had distracted her from the near-overpowering urge to vomit. The trick to it, as she found out after obstinately making the passage over and over, was to rest her foot on the edge of the pool and tilt straight forward--face down into the water--thus allowing her to take her next step on the Precinct's floor where she emerged safe and dry, if a bit disoriented every time.

This time, she stood hesitant. So few details of the situation came through to her, but the more sensitive minds of her friends in the priesthood were never wrong. When they said she was needed, she was needed. Kestrel rather hoped that they needed her as a courier again, since despite the lack of struggle and excitement... at least it was a chance to run.

She didn't know what to be prepared for this time, though, so she opted to be ready for the worst and hope for the best. Her dark hair hung down to her shoulders, braided and dreadlocked to keep a respectable length without the womanish hassle of long silken tresses shining in the sun. That idiocy was for pampered housepets and the women who shared their lifestyle. Kestrel didn't have time for that.

With sun-bronzed hands she smoothed her palms over her leather armor, or at least... armor that she could only have described as leather. Knowing the Precinct there was no telling what it had been made of, but it worked. It turned the blows of her enemies without dragging her down. The boots she knew weren't leather. No leather could stand the strain she put them through, at least not leather made from animals as she understood them.

With a sigh, the soldier stepped forward... leaned... and tried not to close her eyes or wince in preparation for a faceplant into water that was not really there. Instead, a bright light opened around her and her feet hit smooth stone. Mark of wealth, that. But then... was there anything the Precinct wanted which it could not simply reach out and take?

Kestrel wondered, not for the first time, what was stopping them.

The soldier nodded her greeting to the receptionist. There was little to say, as Kestrel had basically no interest in the lives of females--even educated females with admittedly respectable jobs. No, she was here to see the gentleman in charge of those agents from her particular region of reality as the Precinct mapped it. She'd never actually bothered to get to know Section Chief Chon-Marshak, but whatever was going on... he would have the answer.

Clearly she was not the only one with the very same idea. A dark-skinned woman ahead of her, a man in white. Out of politeness Kestrel slowly dragged one foot up from the floor, feeling the sole of her boot leave the polished surface, leaning forward as she bent her knee, straightening her leg, and finally catching herself on her foot. Lifting her other foot, bringing it forward...

How in in Badb's name had this ever felt normal?

((OOC: Picture.))

by **ElComodoro** » Tue Jun 09, 2009 12:41 am

Dr. Michael Holden looked absently over the paperwork piled on his desk, and considered the chirping item in front of him. Unlike the pager he carried with him around the Precinct trauma center, this was small, white, and meant for inter-dimensional contact. And in the past five minutes, it had gone off three times. Why they thought he would need it, Dr. Holden would never know. He only ever worked at Precinct command, and the few times he had been off world, he had been with a team of highly effective operatives. Surely his pager would have been enough? The chirping began again, and Dr. Holden reached out tiredly for the item, hefted it in his hand for a moment, then placed it back on the desk again, and instead picked up a pen and began again on his paperwork. He had enough work to do as it was; whatever they wanted could wait until they sent someone to get him. A moment later, a loud rapping began on the door to his office, followed by a loud voice.

“Dr. Holden? Chon-Marshak wants you in their office right away.”

With a sigh, Dr. Holden stood up, stretched and opened the door to a small four armed being wearing a well tailored suit. Seeing that the doctor was now on his way, the four armed man smiled briefly then bustled on his way.

The trauma center was awash with the usual array of gunshot wounds, laser burns, parasitic mind-slugs and battle-axe gashes, and an equally diverse army of medical professionals zipped between the beds of wounded agents. Working as a Precinct doctor did come with its interesting points, and while the 35 year old Dr. Holden was certainly not the most accomplished or talented doctor working there (How could he be? An organization with access to a truly mind numbing number of worlds could certainly be expected to recruit the best minds in any field), he certainly ranked amongst the best. Plus, with his unique skills and particular background, he had become a well respected member of the clinic. Dr. Holden exited the center and walked down a long corridor, then turned down a small side passage to the transporter. Along the way, he passed by a window that looked out across a small barren patch of ground between buildings. In the five years he had lived and worked here, he still could not get used to the place. The lifeless world and cold, cloudless skies reminded him too much of things he had no wish to remember.
He tore his eyes away before his thoughts wandered any further. He continued along the passage and stepped into the transporter room just as someone else left through the shimmering portal. Walking over, he entered his own destination, took a deep breath and stepped through the shimmering light. Most beings in the multiverse found instant transportation disorienting at the very least, and some physiologies simply could not handle it. The body simply rejected the idea that it could be moved instantaneously, although there was no clear medical reason why this should be the case. Dr. Holden was no exception, although he was used to it. He stepped out into the reception area, and took a quick look around. A few people he didn’t recognize were walking down the hallway toward the stairway, a man in white a whit coat and hat, a small woman with dark skin wearing the most complex glasses he had ever seen and what appeared to be a woman in armor with dark dreadlocked hair. He suddenly felt out of place in his scrubs.

“Good morning Malinda. It is still morning here right?”

by **Spleen** » Tue Jun 09, 2009 12:56 am

The receptionist, Malinda, favored the two newcomers with a dazzling red-lipped, white-toothed smile. "Welcome, Miss Kestrel. And yes, Dr. Holden, it is still morning here, welcome. How are things in Medical City?"

By "Medical City", she of course was referring to the city-sized area on the other side of Pangaea where the good doctor worked - it would take an unlikely universe indeed for an area that size with a greater concentration of medical professionals and medical equipment to exist without outside intervention (or some sociological reason to deprive every other part of the planet of medical help), so there is nowhere in the multiverse that a sick or injured person would rather be.

(El Comodoro - who, by the way, is a newcomer to the forum - asked me the receptionist's name, so I provided him one.)

by **Christian** » Tue Jun 09, 2009 8:27 am

"...Motorcycles?" the casual reference had caught Adannaya's attention... a motorized bicycle? Tricycle? You'd need a tricycle, at least, to support the weight-distribution of the steam engine... "I can understand your point, the size of the vehicle must make it quite inconvenient, not to mention the sound it would make... One could perhaps employ high-pressure canisters to substitute the furnace... but it would still be quite bulky, and you must be mental to use it for any other purpose than traversing difficult terrain... perhaps uphill?"

She was off talking, and didn't at first notice the question he asked her, but before she answered she glanced over at the two newcomers.

"Ah, yes... I suppose you could say that..."

(OOC - Ah yes, forgot to adress the matter of her age. She is 21)

by **darkknight61189** » Tue Jun 09, 2009 9:12 am

Rick couldn't help but laugh at the spew of techno-garble that issued from the girl's mouth. He wasn't entirely sure how to approach the subject of combustion engines, at least not with his limited knowledge, as I'm sure she'd want a more detailed explanation than "It's a cylinder that explodes and pushes a piston thing for motion. I think." Obviously, though, she was much more comfortable talking about technology than she was talking to him, so he figured he'd continue the subject. That is until he heard the portal behind him whine not once, but twice.

Rick turned about to see a girl step through, dark skinned and dreadlocked. His first reaction was "What the hell is that thing on her head?" Oddly enough, through Rick's numerous travels onto other dimensions, he'd never seen someone with dreads. He couldn't fathom how someone's hair could grow to be like that, and so he decided to stick it into the same mental space as the questions "How does one grow four arms?" and "How does one install a laser in one's mouth?" The "Don't Ask" section of his mind.

After her the portal wound down, then started back up again and through stepped a scrub laden man. Obviously a doctor or medical person of some sort, though why he had come through to this dimension in his scrubs before changing into a shirt or some such he didn't know. When the receptionist mentioned Medical City, though, he understood. Looks like we're getting a medic. Which probably means some sort of combat oriented mission. I hate those. Rick slowed his gait to allow the other two to catch up with them.

(Man, now I really wish I had a picture of Rick Spade to marvel you guys with. Damn my lack of any artistic ability what-so-ever.)

by **ElComodoro** » Tue Jun 09, 2009 7:25 pm

“Organized anarchy, just the way any good hospital should be,”Michael replied with a smile. He stepped forward, and walked over to the receptionist’s desk.

“I just got pulled off in the middle of a 12 hour rotation though. You have any idea what’s going on?” he said with a glance at the strange assortment of people. Obviously something was in the works; these people were here for a reason. And whatever that reason was, it was enough to have Chon-Marshak hand pick a team from wildly different locales, which meant that this, whatever it was, was not a routine check-up or police action. He took a moment to asses each of them.

The man in white was talking with the dark skinned woman, or rather, she was talking- something technical it sounded like- and the man in white was listening with an amused smile on his face. He seemed at ease with himself and his surroundings, the type of man who went looking for trouble and had the skill to get himself out of it again. The trench coat and fedora reminded Michael of those corny old pre-war movies he used to watch, the ones in which the smooth-talking, hot-shot American cop took down the mafia and got the girl. The pair appeared to have paused momentarily in their journey down the hallway.

The woman appeared to be an inventor or mechanic of some kind. She looked uncomfortable and nervous here. Of course, the first thing the doctor noticed about her was the bionic limbs. They were surprisingly realistic, a seamless blend of what appeared to be… ivory maybe? A hard synthetic perhaps? They didn’t seem to be medical grade, at least not in the conventional sense, which would generally suggest a life-long condition rather than an accident. If that were the case, they would probably be complex and highly customized, and near impossible to fix without specialized tools or training. Still, they looked to be highly functional, and Michael would be willing to bet that they were of the woman’s own design.

The last person, who had clearly arrived only moments before him, was the strangest of the group. He identified her immediately as a soldier or warrior of some form; he’d had too much experience with soldiers not to notice the way she carried herself. She fairly bristled with barely contained motion. Each step was planted with such care that it was clear she was holding back something.

Something tells me that, if nothing else, this is going to be very interesting, Michael thought.

by **Christian** » Thu Jun 11, 2009 11:52 am

Adannaya stopped in her steps to wait up for the others, tipping her head at each of them in turn, glasses almost falling off the bridge of her nose every time.

The young woman gave them a somewhat embarrassed smile, "Good day," she said, extending her hand, the intricate whirls of white and black* on it quite hypnotic, one's eyes easily fooled into tracing the labyrinthian patterns unless checked, "I am Dr. Adannaya Brearley, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

*

Spoiler:

OOC:

Spoiler:

by **Shinigori V2** » Thu Jun 11, 2009 1:29 pm

Suddenly, there were loud clomping sounds coming from the hallway, as if something heavy was running rapidly in that direction. They got louder, and louder, until finally something burst into the room.

That something was a young woman. She was dressed as if she had been called during the filming of a war movie or some such, judging from her leather bomber jacket and goggles on her forehead. The rest of her attire was pretty average, blue slacks and a black shirt, though she did also have combat boots and thick leather gloves on.

The other notable thing about her, though, was her very pale skin and shock white hair, as if she had seen nothing but ghosts in her life.

She grinned sheepishly, and snapped a quick salute to whoever happened to be closest. "Skye Macentyre reporting in! Sorry I'm late! Got caught up, you know how it is! So, what did I miss? Anything good? Anything important?!"

by **darkknight61189** » Thu Jun 11, 2009 3:02 pm

"Nice to meet you two. Rick Spade," he said, introducing himself to the two that appeared from the portal. Then came the loud clomping, and Rick turned to look at the source of the noise. He was shocked to see the sound originating from a female, and an interestingly dressed female at that. He was more expecting some large burly man to come running around the bend. She came to a halt in front of her and snapped off a salute, which really confused him. After the long string of assertive apologies and questions.

"At ease, soldier," Rick said, a bit more condescendingly and sarcastically than he should have, but no more than he intended. He greatly disliked authority figures, especially those that demanded rather than earned respect, and so his dislike extended to those that blindly followed these authority figures. Skye's military-like entrance made him assume she was of the martial mind set. "And no, you didn't miss anything. We haven't even gotten to the Chief's office. We should probably head off now."

Rick turned and began walking, then turned his head back to the (hopefully following) people and asked "Have you guys been on a lot of missions?"

by **Kai** » Thu Jun 11, 2009 3:54 pm

These people were all entirely too full of words. Chit-chatting, shooting the breeze, killing time. Kestrel didn't understand. They didn't need to know each other to work together as long as everybody could agree to fulfill their obligations. If Kestrel could count on them to watch her back, what did it matter if they were married or single, preferred roses over petunias. Stupid details. The only people she knew who cared about that information were seeking it to use against each other, which put it at a far higher premium than Kestrel was interested in.

The rather cocky-looking man introduced himself, and the soldier managed to reply with, "Kestrel," before they were all distracted by a woman thundering down the hall toward them. Females, Kestrel sighed inwardly. Thankfully, Rick was a bit quicker with his responses than Kestrel--a thought which amused her enough to briefly bring a smile to her face.

'At ease,' he'd said. Kestrel was about to tell Miss Macentyre the very same thing. There was a note of disdain in Rick's voice that Kestrel had not quite expected, but perhaps he too was frustrated at being surrounded by boistrous females. She had no way of knowing that it was precisely people like her that rubbed his nerves the wrong way. Misled by her own assumptions, Kestrel took his annoyance as a hopeful sign.

Then he continued talking. Talking, talking, talking. She noted with dismay that it would probably make them uncomfortable if she declined to participate, and it might affect their ability to work with her.

"Yes," she answered, continuing to follow him. "Courier work, mostly. You?"

by **darkknight61189** » Thu Jun 11, 2009 11:08 pm

"Oh, I'm an outside contractor," Rick said, "Precinct found me a few years back, and I've been working for them since, on and off. Mostly, I do investigative work. They call me in to find something, or someone, and I'm very good at my job." This made Rick think some more about what kind of mission they were being sent on. Rick was only ever sent on missions that needed something investigated, or something needed to be found. Rick wasn't a heavy hitter. Hell, the only thing he had with which to hit anyone with was the baseball bat hidden in his trench coat, and it wasn't very impressive. Well, no, when Rick takes out his black metal bat that visibly discharges electricity a lot of people that were intent on hitting Rick with their very big fists usually got a little worried, but they were usually very disappointed when the bat connected. Rick preferred to take out enemies with intelligence rather than strength.

by **Spleen** » Thu Jun 11, 2009 11:45 pm

The receptionist's smile faded a little as she leaned in conspirationally to Dr. Holden. "I didn't overhear anything I shouldn't have," she said, "but this whole thing is just across the bosses' desk four hours and forty minutes ago and...well...look at who's here. They didn't pull together a black ops team or a strike force. You're a scientist, a PI, an MD, a warrior, and an infiltrator." Her voice became even lower. "What that tells me is this: The higher-ups don't know what's going on. They have somewhere to send you - Chon-Marshak likes to have somewhere to tell operatives to go to start with - but they don't know what you're going to do there yet. They put together five people prepared for anything."

by **ElComodoro** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 1:49 am

“Huh, well, I guessed I’d better stay on my toes. Thanks Malinda.”

He smiled at the receptionist, and then walked towards the small group that had formed. It seemed like he had arrived just in time for introductions. He managed only to open his mouth before he was interrupted by a loud clomping and the appearance of the pale woman in the bomber jacket named Skye. His hand instinctively twitched at the salute, but instead he chuckled under his breath at the string of questions. Rick’s response, however, drew only a glance from the doctor. He decided to ignore the note of disdain. Instead, he turned to the newcomer and Dr. Brearly as Kestrel and Rick began walking toward the stairs.

“Dr. Michael Holden,” he said, finally reaching out to shake Dr. Brearly’s hand, then offering his hand to Skye, “And, if I may Dr. Brearly, what are you a doctor of?”

by **Shinigori V2** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 3:01 am

Skye took the doctor's hand firmly and began to shake it vigorously, grinning wide. "Doctor? I was a doctor, once! I think! I don't remember very well. Probably not important then, right?!"

by **Christian** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 9:30 am

Adannaya took Holden's hand and shook it, giving him a geniuinly warm smile as he introduced himself as a doctor.

"I'm a doctor in applied mechanics, in fact, but it is merely a matter of necessity," her smile widened a bit, "I would consider myself something of a dabbler, although at the moment I am of course focusing on researching what I am authorized to study... which is, in fact, the rather unexplored territory of Electricity and electronical attraction. I understand that you may dismiss this field as trivial, it has after all been proven that the steam engine, through further refinement, provides what we need, even at a surplus, but imagine if you will the ability to light your room at any time of the day with the merest turning of a wheel, or applied pressure to an adjuster. I have, under controlled circumstances, been able to produce lighting without the reliance of fire. All you need is a simple filament enclosed in a low-pressure gas... inert gasses seem to be the only ones that function for a longer period of time, as the heating inside the eclosement..." she gave a startled sound and cut herself off quickly. "I-I'm sorry, I tend to..."

by **Kai** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 11:31 am

Kestrel raised her eyebrows in surprise as she listened to Dr. Brearly rattling on about her engineering advances. It was certainly a different way of meeting one's needs than Kestrel was accustomed to, but there were many ways for many places.

The truly important thing was that Kestrel now saw the value in this brief and previously-content-void conversation. She knew now that Dr. Brearly was a woman of some ambition. She assumed that others would find her aspirations trivial and useless--and Kestrel was not certain she was wrong--but her willingness to pursue them anyway was admirable.

"Apologies are unnecessary," Kestrel replied. "Your work is... intriguing, if I'm understanding it." It was the longest string of words Kestrel had put together since arriving, but she supposed if this woman was going to get above the constraints of her sex, Kestrel was obligated to offer support.

by **darkknight61189** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 2:49 pm

Rick found it intriguing that Addanaya seemed insistent that electricity was inferior to steam technology. He always found it interesting to learn what nuances were different about each dimension. His trenchcoat had been majorly modified in a world where the technology to create extra-dimensional was so common you couldn't find a dresser drawer that didn't involve the use of this technology. Rick had jumped on the chance to put an extra-dimensional pocket in his coat. He had also encountered a world where the people were able to channel sunlight into pure energy and used it in that way. Evidently, in Addanaya's world electricity was thought of to be inferior to steam power. Rick was very surprised she still believed this, even after becoming an agent of the Precinct. Frankly, Rick was able to use his knowledge of other worlds to expand his ability to find things. Just the fact that other dimensions could make extra-dimensional spaces opened Rick's mind up to a whole new world of possibilities. In fact, lately he'd been experimenting with his gift, testing new uses that he hadn't before thought of.

"So, we've got a medical doctor, a scientist, a courier, a... soldier? And a private investigator. So why in the world are we being sent out? Sounds like something big is going on and nobody knows what the hell is going on." Obviously, Rick hadn't heard Malinda's prior theory. "Or perhaps we're going up against a very difficult to find mad scientist who is also a competent fighter," he then paused here, "and the higher ups need someone to run information back forth for them. No that can't be right."

by **Shinigori V2** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 3:32 pm

"You forgot 'infiltrator'." Skye frowned. "That could end up being the important one, there. And a courier could be useful for a lot more things than sending and receiving stuff. I'm like the only person that ever thinks outside the freakin' box!"

by **ElComodoro** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 4:22 pm

Michael shook Skye’s hand, and smiled at her energy. She seemed genuinely excited to be here, which went a long way toward lightening his mood. Her comment about being a doctor, once, confused him. How exactly does one not remember being a doctor, even for a short time? Did she impersonate one? Was she suffering from memory loss? Or was she being flippant? While he mulled over the possibility of partial memory loss, he listened politely to Dr. Brearly’s speech, nodding along as she explained her research and interest in electricity.

“I agree with Ms. Kestrel, no reason for you to apologize. I take it this is one of your first times working for the Precinct? I think you’ll find that your studies are far less trivial than you realize,” he said, as the group began moving once again toward Chon-Marshak’s office. The time he had spent in the Precinct had taught him not to be surprised when someone had no knowledge of those things he would have normally considered commonplace, such as electricity. Moreover, he had learned long ago to let people come to their own discoveries. What knowledge he had, he was more than willing to pass on, but you can only teach those who want to be taught. Something told him that receiving an account of electricity from an arrogant off-worlder would be less than appreciated by Dr. Brearly.

Rick’s question gave the doctor pause. At least he wasn’t the only one who found the situation odd. What was it that had the higher-ups of the most well informed agency in the multiverse scrambling together what looked like an exploratory team? What had them so scared that they scrambled this team on four hours notice?

“I don’t know Mr. Spade, but whatever it is-they seem to want to cover all the bases. Apparently, this is all breaking news.”

by **Kai** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 5:21 pm

Everybody was hypothesizing. Not even that. Straight-up guessing what they were here for.

At least it meant that none of them had any better information than she did. She wasn't so far behind. However... the fact that they were left speculating all the way back here instead of zipping up ahead and just asking Chon-Marshak was absolutely maddening. It was like walking with elderly ladies who crowed excitedly about where they were going but didn't actually move any faster.

She felt stuck. It was quite annoying.

"Thank you, Ms. Macentyre," Kestrel responded, having picked up that this was the proper prefix to append to the name of a respectable woman--one neither married nor advertising her spinsterhood. "I do courier work because I'm... a good runner," she explained delicately. Kestrel laid a hand on the sword at her hip. "However, an extra soldier is also helpful in some cases. I don't know what capacity they'll be needing me in, or any of the rest of you. Hopefully we'll find out when the Section Chief speaks with us. Anything until then is just speculation," she finished with her usual lack of curiosity.

When she was needed for something, she would be told. When she had a duty, it would be given to her. She failed to see why this was a matter open for debate. But then again... perhaps they were simply bored and impatient. The latter was a feeling she was getting better and better acquainted with the longer they inched down these halls. They were so slow. But... they were evidently her team. She'd stay with them if she must.

by **darkknight61189** » Fri Jun 12, 2009 6:36 pm

Skye was bothering Rick, no two ways about it. He couldn't get a handle on her. She was extremely eager, like a puppy dog on a leash across the street from a kid. He could even imagine a tail wagging behind her. She thinks she was a doctor? Being corrected about her purpose made his job of figuring out what was going on a bit easier. Or harder. He had assumed she was a soldier type, what with the salute she gave as an introduction, but it turned out she was an infiltrator, which made the group make that much less sense.

Kestrel's quip about waiting to find out from the Chief what was going on also kind of caught him off guard. She had seemed amused by his previous sarcastic jab at Skye and her soldier-like form of introduction, so he thought she was on his side. Turned out she was also of the mind set "wait for them to tell me, and I'll do it."

"Kestrel, in my line of work it pays to be prepared, no matter what. Of course speculation is less useful than concrete information, but when there's a lack of, you can only rely on speculation. And speculating that Chon-Marshak actually called us here because he's part of a conspiracy within the Precinct and wanted to get rid of the most potentially useful people in a mutinous rebellion would allow me to react in the correct fashion when he pulls out a gun or laser and begins shooting at us. I'll be ready, while most other people would be shocked that their boss is shooting at them. Now, of course this is an outlandish idea, because there's no evidence to back it up, which is why I didn't suggest it as a possibility, but at the same time, if there's one thing I learned here at the Precinct is that anything is possible, so be ready for the impossible." He then smiled at her and continued walking.

by **Christian** » Sat Jun 13, 2009 8:57 am

Brearley's eyes widened a bit as the insofar most quiet member of the small party complimented her research. She gave an enthusiastic and thankful nod, lips parting to reveal just the hint of a smile, bright white teeth barely visible. "Thank you, I..." she began, but the ensuing discussion cut her of and she gave Kestrel a distraught look, but then listened in on the conversation. Discussing her research could be done later. She used a small pause after Skye's exclamation to respond to Michael's comment, "Well, I have been here twice before, but I have yet to find myself taking part in one of their excursions... as for my research, I... ah, it is a bit of a complicated salmagundi... I am certain we can discuss the matter, if you're interested, after our meeting with mr. Chon-Marshak..."

She began walking again towards the office of their Section Chief, glancing at the rest of her team. It seemed some enmity might have already sprung up between a few of them... she hoped the briefing would redirect this energy towards their goal.

by **Spleen** » Sun Jun 14, 2009 8:27 pm

(So? Are you all going to the office now?)

by **darkknight61189** » Sun Jun 14, 2009 10:33 pm

(I'm good on this end, unless someone wants to respond to Rick's seemingly horrible paranoia.)

by **Spleen** » Mon Jun 15, 2009 1:48 am

As Malinda had indicated, Chon-Marshak's office was two floors up and to the left. The door was oak, windowed with what at first looked like frosted glass but was, on further inspection, fogged glass; the climate-controlled dry cool of the hallway on one side of the window was clearly at odds with the atmosphere in Chon-Marshak's office. The lettering on the door - Chon-Marshak, Section Chief - could still be read clearly.

"Come in, please," a deep, gravelly voice could be heard saying through the door.

Behind the door was a room, decorated (as before described) with jungle plants. Jungle plants on the desk, jungle plants on the cabinets, jungle plants on tables. Even a few tasteful, framed posters of the deep jungle. The room was kept a scant few degrees below eighty degrees Fahrenheit (about 26 degrees Celsius, 299 Kelvin) and more than humid enough to be jungle-like. The carpet was forest green and most of the furnishings - desk, padded chairs, a few cabinets, a table - were of some kind of fine-grained polished wood.

There was one being sitting at the desk, a being who could be most succinctly described as a lizardman - a bony, scrawny-limbed humanoid creature, six feet tall when seated in the high-backed office chair behind the desk and presumably seven to seven and a half when standing. The tip of a long, muscular tail could just be seen around the side of the desk, its tip flexing and curling occasionally, covered as the (creature's whole body is) in scales of a deep, gemstone blue. The face atop its short neck was probably the creature's least human feature (not counting the tail) - wide, flat, and segmented laterally into right and left lobes beginning an inch or two above the nostril slits set just above its wide, needle-toothed mouth. The pair of eyes on the face were large, bulbous, extremely wide-spaced, and obviously separately mobile, and at closer inspection were possessed of a pair of pupils each. No ears were visible.

"Welcome," the creature said in the same gravelly and surprisingly human-sounding voice as before, as soon as the door was opened. "We are sorry that your summons was conducted on such short notice with no listed time-frame," it said stiffly. "However, it was unavoidable as this is a fairly...singular case, we agree." It seemed to ponder something for a moment. "Sit, please, those that have space; we apologize for how few chairs we have in our office." It indicated a few chairs in front of the desk with its clawed left hand. "Chon would like to offer refreshments - water, perhaps - Marshak feels that nicety should be discarded in the urgency of the news we have, but was willing to concede after argument."

(Okay, here's the moment you've all been waiting for. I'm going to explain Chon-Marshak between spoiler tags. I guess it's unavoidable that if your character is familiar with them from past experience, you should have this information. If your character is meeting them for the first time, you're free to find out through roleplaying rather than the spoiler, but your choice.)

Spoiler:

by **darkknight61189** » Mon Jun 15, 2009 1:48 pm

Rick waked briskly up to the door, eager to get this meeting over with so he could get to the heart of the matter. The suspense was killing him. As he went to knock on the door, he heard Chon-Marshak say to enter, so he did. He always knew. They knew. He was never going to get used to that. Normally rick attributed it to heightened sense of smell or good hearing or something, but with Skye clomping around, it wasn't too hard to figure out how they'd known they were outside. Rick honestly began to wonder how an infiltrator could have such loud boots. Stealth doesn't really work when everyone hears you coming. He walked in and stepped off to the side, allowing the others to file into the room. The room was muggy and warm as always, and he felt the inside of coat cool, making it comfortable for him in the room. He took off his hat, though, because the top of his head always got warm.

When he was offered some water, he went over and poured himself a cup, then leaned up against the wall next to the table and sipped at it. He looked at the odd looking humanoid that he had come to know as his employer. He'd gotten used to his facial features and his constant referral to the other and he'd more or less figured out which side of his head was Chon and which was Marshak, but it was a lot easier for him to think of the being as one entity. He didn't dislike his employer. In fact, over the years he'd grown quite fond of him. It. He appreciated the depth to which Chon-Marshak thought things through. Everything it said made sense, logically, and there was never any room for misunderstanding, which was something that Rick found harrowing about dealing with his clients back home. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that he was his superior, Rick would probably have gotten along quite well with Chon-Marshak.

"So, Boss, what's the deal?"

by **Christian** » Mon Jun 15, 2009 4:28 pm

Adannaya kept a low profile on the way towards the office, anticipation for her first meeting with Chon-Marshak. True, she had been at the Precinct twice, once by her own volition and once by accident, but she had never met the Section Chief, he... or they (presumably a title?), had not been available at either times, so she had merely spoken to lower-ranked representatives that had gotten most of the paperwork finished... after explaining things to the shaken doctor over a warm cup of coffee. Things had been a bit... overwhelming back then.

Matter of fact, they still were. Addy let out a low gasp as they entered the wet and sticky office of the section chief, the humid air almost immediately making perspiration appear on her skin, and she only barely resisted the urge to untie her cravat somewhat, as that would hardly be befitting a lady, no matter the circumstances.

The sight of Chon-Marshak made chills run down her back and the room suddenly felt several degrees cooler. She was no big admirer of reptiles, and this one certainly didn't change that. She paled visibly as Chon-Marshak addressed them and she more than eagerly took a seat, lips tightly pursed.

by **Kai** » Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:45 pm

The air in Chon-Marshak's office always made Kestrel want to strip off her armor and take a nap. Too sticky and humid--like the inside of someone's mouth. She frowned, suppressing the mild discomfort with the certainty that Chon-Marshak would be able to give them far more certainty than wild guesswork out in the hallway.

Frankly, Kestrel liked her Section Chief. Well-informed, decisive, and reasonable. She was accustomed to walking away from a meeting with her superiors with a good idea of what was required of her, so she felt good about him/them as a source of information. For all Rick Spade's decisiveness and assertiveness, he didn't seem to carry quite the same aura of level-headedness as Chon-Marshak. So it was that despite Kestrel's instinctive sense of him as a natural leader for their mission, it would be preferable if direction came from someone whose temperament and qualifications were more certain.

Kestrel allowed others to choose their seats, unaccustomed to making herself at home in the presence of a superior. While Rick looked the picture of casual confidence, leaning against a wall like he was perfectly at ease, Kestrel's habit of standing with her hands clasped behind her back patiently had exactly the opposite effect.

She could have offered some kind of casual greeting, asking about their health or a local sports team, but Rick had asked the pertinent question. 'The deal,' as his expression went, was still something of a mystery, and Kestrel was far more interested in hearing about it than she was exchanging friendly pleasantries.

by **Shinigori V2** » Tue Jun 16, 2009 1:15 pm

Skye wandered in, and leaned heavily on the desk, turning to look at the Section Chief. "Yeah, we already figured out that you've got a really crazy diverse group, so what's the deal? Aliens? Martians? Zombies?"

It sounded like Sky limited herself to a few choices, one could probably get the impression she could name hazards for hours. Though it also seemed she either didn't care she was in the section chief's office, or simply didn't care.

by **ElComodoro** » Tue Jun 16, 2009 11:12 pm

Michael paused at the door to Chon-Marshak’s office, allowing the others to enter before him. The gesture was partly a courtesy to everyone else, but more importantly, the office was invariably humid, small and uncomfortable, and Michael wanted to spend as much time in the hall as possible. He stepped in and closed the door quietly, the sound muffled by the thick air and foliage.

When he had first met Chon-Marshak, he had been too shocked to speak. The creature was so far out of his experience, that at the time he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. The strangeness of the experience, and his own numbness, had precluded speech, and Michael had left the office without uttering a single sound. Since then, however, he had come to respect the section chief as a boss. He was in charge for a reason, although Michael rarely dealt with him. Only on those rare occasions when he was tapped for missions did Michael come into contact with them. This had happened enough for him to remember both the office and their strange nature, and he had since become familiar with the species and their unique brain structure. They seemed on edge now, a fact which worried the doctor.

Today, he nodded to the section chief and looked around at the assembled group. Three standing, one sitting, with two empty chairs. Michael glanced at Kestrel and Skye, and noted that Kestrel was committed to standing. So, he took one of the open chairs and sat quietly. He relaxed into the seat, and watched the reactions of his companions carefully. As interested as he was in Chon-Marshak’s news, and an answer to the many questions that had cropped up, his main concern was to begin to understand the people he was going to work with.

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