interstellar5555 | ☆TRACK VI: THE NEW AMERICANA

Entry tags:

☆TRACK VI: THE NEW AMERICANA

Who: All the rescuers...and DAFT PUNK.
What: The rescuers enter Vista City for the first time.
When: January 20th, 2055
Where: The ship, the coast, and outer Vista City.
Warnings: Could basically be anything.

“Viral mess turned dreams into an empire.
Self-made success now she rolls with Rockefellers.
Survival of the richest, the city's ours until the fall.
But we don't feel like outsiders at all.”

☆THE NEW AMERICANA

Your arrival on Tera doesn’t exactly happen with a bang – though maybe that’s a good thing, given that this is supposedly a stealth operation. The ship firsts touches down somewhere in the ocean, at which point it hovers above the waves for a few hours while Shep “touches base” with some “contacts.”

This is your time to get ready, to collect any gear you’ve been assigned, and to talk over initial plans with your new teammates. You’ve been given a rough outline of what to expect upon reaching actual land. You’re going to be dropped off in the ring of forested land outside of the city, at which point you are to access a hidden stash of supplies that has been planted there for you and head into the city, where a second stash of supplies will be waiting for you in the outer ring of the city.

It will probably be a long walk. From the onboard supplies everyone will be given the following:

ENGLISH LANGUAGE TRAINING: if your character doesn’t already speak English, they will be given some time with a crown like technological device that seems the be able to psychically teach people languages at a rapid pace. Whatever has been enabling communication so far won’t cover you once you enter the city, so it’s important that you’re prepared. How easily a person’s brain accepts this information will vary based on unseen neurological factors, and can range from perfect fluency to an uneasy second language. (On an OOC level, whether or not your character struggles with picking up English is completely up to you.) Most of this training will be done on the trip to Tera.
THEIR DESIGNATED TOOLS: any items your character was designated on your application will be given to them now. They’ll have some degree of choice in what they get, but everything is limited in supply. There are manuals for everything, but how much you can be fucked to read them will vary. Also, some of them aren’t in English or anything else even remotely recognizable.
COMMUNICATION DEVICES: Everybody will get a communicator, which are worn around the back of your ear and project a holographic field over your eyes when activated. The device itself must be manually switched on with your fingers, and from there on out your exact method of controlling it depends on the settings. Some of the more basic functions can be manipulated with “brain waves” (though nothing very complicated) and the rest is mostly voice or touch activated, though you can also set it up to be controlled with blinking and eye movement if you are a “pro”. Its functions include voice, voice-to-text, and a sort of janky manual text mode that you have to touch the screen to use. Video chat is not available, though it is capable of recording video from your POV to be shared manually after the fact. It can also share still images. Various channels can be set up and accessed, both private and public, much like a Teamspeak server is used in gaming.
HOLO EMITTERS (LIMITED): The amount of these available are limited by “plot convenience.” Do you want your character to have to struggle with their alien appearance to get by constantly? Then imagine there wasn’t enough of them to go around and your character was unlikely or benevolent enough to not receive one. Would you rather they have access to one? Then you can have one. A holo emitter is capable of projecting a holographic image around your character and disguising their appearance, the complexity of which is entirely up to you. The major problems with it are that 1) it can’t conceal things that the hologram doesn’t actually touch – cow horns could be covered in a hologram to look like a hat, but it couldn’t make them look as if there is nothing there at all, and 2) the holograms have no mass, and so if anyone tries to touch them they’ll realize they are just light projections. Also, like most of the equipment, they only work for a few hours before running out of power.

☆STASH NUMBER ONE: THE FOREST

Once Shep has made sure things are prepared and everyone has their stuff, the ship will very briefly skirt close enough to the shore for people to disembark. The beach seems totally free of witnesses, and once you’ve hit land it’s a short run to the tree line. A few random people will have map information uploaded into their communicators (Usagi, Saitama, Reborn, Pearl, and Sparks Nevada are the lucky winners) and will be put in charge of making sure everyone navigates to the first stash correctly, and then into the outskirts of the city where a meet-up point and a second stash of equipment is located. The directions are not complicated, but it’s a lot of people to shepherd around incognito. How everybody handles this is completely up to the characters.

Meanwhile, Shep is piloting the ship back off into the ocean to hide it somewhere. He says he’ll meet you in the city at some point, and that he’ll keep in contact via the communicators. Stay safe, and good luck!

The first stash is about a twenty minute walk into the forest, and should be found with relative ease. It is basically just a few large, plastic tubs buried beneath soil and moss, and has to be dug up like treasure. Inside of it lies the following:

AMERICANA DISGUISES: Clothing, make up, the works – everything the average joe needs to pass themselves off as a resident of Vista City. Outfits are perhaps a bit more eccentric and flashy than you’re used to...or maybe a bit less, depending where you come from. Either way, it’s a specific look, and there should be enough here to accommodate new outfits for all the humanoids. If you’re a horse, you’re sort of on your own. What your character ends up with is up to you, though “space rave” is a good way to describe common aesthetics. There are also a lot of hooded coats, hats, and other articles that would be good for hiding inhuman characteristics.
RATIONS: Enough food at water, tightly compact, to last everyone for a few days. It’s going to start to run out quickly, though, so the group is going to need some breadwinners sooner rather than later.
A WELCOME CARD: A welcome message from these two with their selfie printed on the front. Written inside are the following messages: “Glad you could make It! ♥ –Gold” and ”Welcome to hell. ☺ -Silver”. They are both in the same handwriting.

From there, the maps only lead further into the city.

☆STASH NUMBER TWO: CITY BOUND

You'll quickly notice that Vista City comes with multiple levels - the ground level, that actually touches the earth, and then a second level of streets and walkways that occurs halfway up the mountainous buildings. Cars streak down both sets of speedways, and the signs of life scatter every inch of the towers surrounding you. At the same time, though, a city of this magnitude leaves a lot of nooks and crannies left frequently unseen - something you'll definitely have to take advantage of. In the outer ring of the city the population is less dense than it gets towards the center, so at the least it gives you the opportunity to get your bearings.

You'll find that there is no shortage of people stalking around in the darkness, even as the sun sets and night totally takes hold. A lot of them are dressed pretty funny, too, and any insecurities you had about looking ridiculous can tentatively be put aside. The costumes you were left do allow you to blend in about as well as you could hope. If the navigation team holds true, you'll be able to make it to the next stash in good time. You've been advised to avoid talking to locals as much as possible, at least until you've figured things out better. There is a notable absence of homeless people on the streets, which could mean any number of things.

The place you end up at is, unsurprisingly, a warehouse. One of the few entirely flat buildings in the cityscape, the maps will lead into the center of the building. You try the door. It opens. When you go inside, you aren't alone.

The floor is littered in blankets and what passes for foam mattresses. Waiting with them is the silver helmeted figure from the welcome card earlier. They usher you in hastily and ask you some cursory questions about whether you've been followed. When they seem satisfied, they'll tell you that you can spend the night here.

"This is the first and last time you can stay here," they'll say, gesturing around. "This was Gold and I's launchpad for the last little while, and we're junking it after this. I recommend you follow our example. Don't stay any one place too long, and don't travel in one huge group. If you do that, one bad night will pin you all down."

Silver will pass out what is apparently enough fake IDs for everyone in the ship - complete with each individual's image (or a human approximation) and a made up name. It's enough info to get a job with, they'll explain, if you can manage it. Avoid pushing the forgery's limits, though, if you can. They made them themselves so they expect they are excellent quality, but you can never be too careful.

"...Most importantly," they'll finish. "Don't go looking for the prisoners right now, as much as you might want to. If you fuck that up, you'll fuck this up for everyone - and I'll tell you right now, other people have already invested a lot more blood and tears into this than you have. Respect that."

Silver will stay for a few more hours, and then Gold will appear to take over, bringing snacks and hot chocolate with them. Get a good sleep, you'll need it.

“We are the new Americana.
High on legal marijuana,
Raised on Biggie and Nirvana.
We are the new Americana.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Frisk has spent most of their time on the ship wandering around sticking their nose into things. They're used to spending a lot of time alone, even if it's not what they prefer, so they're content enough to walk through secluded areas alone.

They are pretty primed to listen for noises though. The sound of a faint croak is enough to get them peering inquisitively into that corner and up at the hooded guy. Does he have a frog? They didn't know there were frogs on board!

There certainly is, even if it's just the one: a large and fat little thing who seems like she's practically sunk into Mammon's hands. There's a definite frown on their face as they listen to the croaking. It's still there when they turn their head, both at having heard Frisk approach themself and Fantasma's louder croaks.

"Can I help you?" Don't mind them. They're a little grumpy because their frog isn't feeling well.

Frisk shakes their head in the negative. They really don't need anything at all. But they're not really looking at Mammon anyway; they're frowning at the frog in their hands. It's actually smaller than the frogs they're used to encountering at this point, but they can tell it doesn't look all that happy.

At this point they don't even need to really look at their phone to type anymore, so they key out a response nearly as soon as Mammon's finished their question. Are they okay?

Oh. Well, that's unexpected, but Mammon is patient if nothing else. They shake their head. "I don't think she's taking the trip well. Once we land, I'll be able to find things to make her feel better- heating lamps and the like." They're not ashamed to outright steal if that's what it comes down to. Fantasma is one of the few things in the world that means almost as much as money to them.

Something else has their attention, however. "Mute?"

Frisk shakes their head again and shrugs. Nah, they can talk. They just don't really feel like it right now - not here, not like this, not with a stranger.

Not personal, they're quick to add, because sometimes people get all upset about it. Like Frisk is refusing to speak to them. They don't really know why; it's not like that. They'll talk if it's important enough. But other times they feel like it's more important just to listen. Maybe there's a lot of reasons, and they've never really laid it all out even to themself. This is just how they roll.

It's been different lately anyway. They had to for the monsters, and they still do when they need to for ambassador stuff. Maybe eventually they'll just talk to everybody all the time. That's then. This is now, and for now, they're not really worried about it.

Does she want some spider cider? they continue without pausing for comment. All my Froggit friends drink it. They're pretty much just big frogs.

Hm. Curious, but not in a bad way. Mammon has dealt with people with stranger habits. See: their coworkers.

They brush it off, tilting their head at the offer. Well, they're learning something new. Spider Cider? "I've never heard of it before," they answer as Fantasma adjusts in their palm, peering over at Frisk. "Does it just taste good, or does it do something?"

Well, that's a little bit of a complicated question. Frisk tilts their head in return, then types away for a little bit.

It's monster food. Monster food just turns straight into energy, so it can help you feel better and heal faster if you're hurt. Even in fights. I don't know about if you're sick. Hopefully it works on frogs from other universes too. They're not sure how all that works, but they understand that they can't expect all other worlds to operate just like their own.

At least a frog wouldn't mind the worst thing about the cider. It's made of spiders and magic but it doesn't taste too bad.

"Interesting." It might be hard, since Mammon's quiet voice isn't particularly emotive right now, but they are being honest. Monster food. Maybe it's just a kid's imagination, but they're willing to believe in quite a few things right now.

Before they give their answer, they exchange a glance with Fantasma who looks as pensive as a frog can be. A croak, and Mammon nods slowly.

"I suppose we can at least give it a try... Just a small bit."

Frisk nods, and types a little more on their phone. It's not a message. Whatever they've done, it prompts an image of a jug of cider to appear above the screen. The child grabs it by the handle, apparently just before it gains actual substance and weight, and pulls it away. It's fairly large, made of brown glass and still covered in cobwebs.

"No glass," they say, not bothering to shift things so that they've got a free hand for typing. They're busy pulling the cork out before they hand it over. They always drink right from the jug; they don't care if the frog does also. "Just pour careful."

Ha. So that's when talking happens. Mammon shifts Fantasma into one hand so she can wave the other dismissively. "It's fine."

Out of nowhere, a tiny shotglass the perfect size for a frog suddenly materializes in midair and they take it between their fingers. "I have it covered." They told themself no frivolous uses of their magic, but this is for Fantasma. Thus, it's not frivolous. Setting it down on the nearest flat surface, they reach to take the jug.

"Are the webs part of the aesthetic or have you just not used this in a while?"

Frisk doesn't seem alarmed by the sudden appearance of a shot glass. A little surprised, sure, but why not? Undyne makes magic spears all the time.

It's not that old, they assure him. The talking is over for now, it seems. The spiders just sell it like that. As far as they know, it's just for the aesthetic. They do keep it in the webs beforehand, but if they really wanted to make everything less cobwebby for their customers, they could.

It'd be weird for them to consider non-spider viewpoints that much. Frisk doesn't mind. It seems fair enough.

As they set down the jug as well and get ready to let Fantasma have a bit, Mammon takes note of how calm the kid is. The talk of spiders making cider is the first clue, obviously, but it seems they've been through enough to have a calm head. They can appreciate that.

Especially since they're fairly certain they're god awful with normal children.

Fantasma opens her mouth open wide for the cider to be poured in, snapping it shut fairly quickly and staying still for a moment. She's watched carefully by her partner, even when she just tucks into a tiny ball of frog. Mammon hums thoughtfully and picks up the curled up amphibian. "She likes it, and it doesn't seem to be reacting negatively yet... Or positively, but I guess we'll see if it takes differently in a while."

A croak. "She says thank you," they add absent mindedly, still looking her over just in case.

Frisk watches the process attentively, head tilted a little to the side for a good view of Fantasma. She doesn't look like a magic-using frog, but she must be brave to come all this way. Most frogs they've met have been pretty brave, honestly; they didn't all know what to make of them before they came out to see.

She's welcome. It might take a little bit. Alternately, the magic could not work at all. Even so, spider juice is probably nutritious for frogs all on its own. Like flies, but better. It was brave of her to come like this.

"She's faced worse than this." Both of them have. It's just a regular part of work as the Varia. Mammon carefully sets the frog back on their shoulder, where she can be content. It'll be easier to see if she starts falling than if she's on their head.

"And you?"

They tilt their head slightly.

What?

"Have you been through worse?" they extrapolate, idly petting Mammon.

"I've met a lot of unusual children, lately, so I won't immediately doubt your capability, but I am curious."

Frisk doesn't answer right away. They just look at Mammon, obviously considering something.

Their friends and family don't know everything about what happened to them. It's not that they take any particular pleasure in keeping secrets. If Flowey weren't involved they'd have told them everything, but...Flowey. And then there's the humans, for whom Frisk usually plays down the many, many attempts on their life by various monsters. If it were up to them they'd have lied about it entirely - none of that matters now - but some things still got out. Their very first diplomatic incident.

In the end, none of that really applies to strangers from another world. They're on the same team. Yeah, they conclude. They've seen worse.

The silence tells more than anything else. Mammon would never label themself as particularly empathetic, especially not to any extent to boast about, but they recognize that much at least.

"I won't be the one to tell you that it won't be as bad as that," they say simply. "Considering some of the people they kidnapped, it could be worse, for all we know."

Frisk nods. They understand that much. Toriel, at least, is really strong. They've never really seen Sans fight, but they guess his magic is a lot like Papyrus's. Maybe he's gotten less practice with it. But they have no illusions that any of them are invincible. They've seen all their friends defeated before.

They do like to hope that whatever's happening here is less than that. They really really hope that.

I know. But we can do it. There's always some way. And they're going to find it, even if it comes down to Frisk, alone, looping everything over and over. It'd be a long one without saving here, but at least that means they could fix things from the very beginning.

That's a good will. Mammon doesn't respect much, but they can respect that. A smirk twists across their lips.

"Of course. There's no other outcome we'd accept, right?"

Just among those that they know, Mammon is sure this ship is brimming with stubborn people who don't know how to say 'no'. That doesn't mean this will be easy by any means... But you'd be amazed at what a little bit of stubbornness accomplishes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

☆TRACK VI: THE NEW AMERICANA

Ship

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject