hadriel_logs | train(track)spotting

Entry tags:

train(track)spotting

Who: Agent Maine and Sal Fisher
What: Exploring outside the city, on the hunt for train tracks.
Where: Outside the city!
When: February 22nd - 26th-ish
Warnings: none! will update if necessary

[ Maine said that he was hard to miss, and boy oh boy, he wasn't kidding. Fully armored, the space marine stands at 7'4" and looks like he could easily charge straight through a wall. A bladed grenade launcher is mag-locked to his back, and he carries a bag of supplies over his left shoulder. In his right hand, he holds his communicator.

As he stands at the edge of the city, still and silent, Maine doesn't make for an approachable figure. But, when he spots someone making their way towards his location, he raises his left hand in a valiant attempt at a friendly greeting. ]

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[Maine is definitely hard to miss. And while everyone is big compared to Sal, who's only 5'2", Maine is like a giant that Sal spots right away. A well armed giant. He supposes it's good to be prepared!

That valiant attempt at a greeting is met with an enthusiastic one in return as he bounds up to Maine; the only armor he has is the mask for his face and the earmuffs for his, well, ears. It's still pretty damn cold, after all.]

Hey, Maine! [His face may be covered but his body language and tone do a decent job of showing his excitement. He hasn't been able to really explore this place yet, or at least outside of the city. He went to the Silent Hill zone once but that...is something he doesn't like to think about.] Ready to track some tracks?

[ Another person might be offset by Sal's mask and its lack of expression. Maine, on the other hand, finds it almost refreshing. He's spent years working with people whose faces are usually hidden by opaque visors, just as his own is now. Not being able to see Sal's face is familiar, even if the object blocking it is strange.

To the enthusiastic greeting, Maine gives a thumbs up. Hell yeah, he's ready! Then he points at the wide open space surrounding the city, deliberately choosing a direction that isn't the same as his previous expedition. (He's had enough of underground bunkers, thanks.)

How's that for a place to start? ]

[Just the same, Sal finds a weird comfort in someone else with their face covered, despite the fact that he's grown used to being different among his peers and is hardly bothered by it anymore. Especially around here where no one seems to care anyway, but some feelings are hard to shake. He also notices Maine doesn't say anything at all but that doesn't bother him.

He glances in the direction he's pointing. Sal doesn't know what's out there but he feels confident they'll be just fine. Maine seems like he knows what he's doing and if anything he has Edward tucked away in his sweater in case they get lost.]

Yeah, looks good to me. [Before they head off officially though, Sal gets an idea.] Oh, I have someone that can probably help. I brought him in case we somehow got lost but he's good at finding things too.

[He opens up his coat a little and reaches inside, after a moment pulling out his hand with a weird, featureless butterfly creature perched on his hand. It flaps its wings a bit and makes an odd gurgling sound.]

This is Edward. Edward, this is Maine. Say hi.

[It gurgles again and Sal just assumes he's saying hi.]

Maybe he can help us find tracks if there are any.

[ Since arriving in Hadriel, Maine can safely say he's seen some strange shit. He didn't think that would ever extend to butterflies, but ... well, here he is. Looking down at the bizarre bug gurgling in Sal's hand.

How the fuck does a bug gurgle? Hell if he knows. But here the butterfly is, doing just that.

It says something to how much Maine's adjusted that — after a moment spent staring at the creature — he decides to just roll with it. He nods and waves at Edward (is it actually sentient? does it register the wave?), then he jerks his chin in their chosen direction, urging Sal to come along.

Keeping his stride short enough to match Sal's, Maine starts off into the tundra. He also types a quick message on his phone, then holds the screen out so that Sal can see it: ]

Edward finds things. How?

[ Coming from Maine, that's downright chatty, even if he can't speak the words aloud. ]

[The way he just rolls with it is an admiral quality, to be honest. Sal doesn't mind when people are shocked or surprised at all, but he's familiar with just...going with the weird shit. He feels he already relates to Maine, honestly.

The creature gurgles once more (Sal just assumes it's communicating, or learning to, honestly) and flies atop Sal's head as they begin to head towards their destination. He's pleasantly surprised by Maine's chattiness, and now he realizes fully that he really can't talk for whatever reason. Huh.]

Uhh I have no idea. [He laughs a little.] But sometimes I'll tell him to look for something...sometimes he'll find it and sometimes he won't. I figure it's like...a dog sniffing stuff out. Or magic? He's not from my world or this one so I can't say for sure. My friend Tyki — he owns the pawnshop, he's super awesome — he kind of raises them. They're called Teez. Anyway he gave one to me in case I was ever in trouble.

[Oops, he rambled a bit there. He's been doing that a lot lately, but it's better than that feeling of just not wanting to say anything so he won't fight it. Well, unless Maine seems annoyed by it.]

[ On the contrary, Maine isn't annoyed at all. He's accustomed to chatty teammates. And, while Sal may not be a teammate, Maine likes him well enough. He listens closely, looking curiously at the butterfly perched atop Sal's head as the younger man explains.

Maine doesn't know any Tyki, but that's not surprising; the space marine isn't a particularly social creature. It's still interesting that someone raises these ... tracker-butterflies. ]

Why "Edward"?

[Sal pauses a second before he answers that.]

...He's a character from my favorite movie, Edward Shovelhands. Have you ever heard of it? Sometimes there are some common things among other worlds but I haven't met anyone yet who knew any movie or band or video game that I've talked about. Some have come pretty close though.

[It's always just a hair off. Weird.]

[ The Freelancer thinks about it for a moment. He's no cinephile; his lifestyle never left much time for such hobbies. Maybe that's why it's unfamiliar. But Maine suspects the reason might be something else: ]

From 2547.

[ Compared to many here, Maine's pretty sure he's from a different time. ]

[Sal actually stares at Maine's screen for a moment as he processes that. Yes, he can still be a little shocked after a few months here.]

Whoa, holy shit. I'm from like, 1990...you're waaaay ahead of me.

[He laughs, mostly at himself, because uh...]

The armor should have been a dead give away. We don't have stuff like that where I come from.

[ 1990? Color Maine surprised in turn. Because damn, that's— ]

Ancient.

[ It's not intended to be an insult. He's looking at Sal curiously, now. Wondering what 1990 was like.

Tapping his armor, he explains: ]

Experimental. Not common.

[ Not even in 2547. ]

[Sal snickers at the idea that his time is ancient in comparison to Maine's. But...that's also pretty damn awesome.]

Whoa, really? [Sal now looks at Maine curiously, studying the armor as if he could tell anything from it aside from "it's badass and from super far in the future".] So, what, you're doing some kind of...trial run with it or something? What can it do? Like, I assume it does something other than protect you from bullets and stuff if it's all experimental, right?

[ The Freelancer nods. Yes, it does more than just protect him from bullets. But the specifics are, unfortunately: ]

Classified. :/

[ It may be strange to try and maintain OPSEC in this impossible place, but — even after all that Carolina told him — Maine is loyal to the Project. ]

[Sal nods his head in understanding.]

Oooh, gotcha. I can respect that. [Especially since Sal himself is bad at keeping secrets, apparently. At least that's what people tell him. He somehow manages to be kinda obvious under pressure. It's a good thing he's not with some super top secret classified organization or something.] It's super badass armor, at any rate.

:) Thanks.

[ It may seem weird for Maine to say as much, since it's not like the Freelancer Agent designed his armor. However: ]

Picked color.

[ He's proud of that part. ]

[He gets it. Sal feels kind of the same way when someone actually compliments his mask, even if he didn't make it or wear it by any choice of is own. He's just so used to it it's part of him, therefore it's a compliment when someone likes it. At least that's the way it is for himself.]

You got to do that? That's so cool. Did you like, have some kind inspiration or was it just like, "it looks cool so why the hell not"?

[ Maine nods, eager to share. He loves his armor. Feels like it's a second skin more often than not — perhaps more so since his arrival in Hadriel, and his discovery that he can't permanently kill his enemies. ]

Shows enemy's blood.

[ Which he thinks is fantastic. (And it's definitely not a weird thing to share when walking off into the tundra with someone. Definitely not!) ]

[That's not exactly a response he was anticipating.]

Oh.

[Sal doesn't necessarily get sick at the sight of blood but he is definitely sick of seeing it. But Maine is some kind of...super, secret, solider? Okay, he doesn't know exactly, but his lifestyle is obviously vastly different from his own. So he can't really judge.]

I wear dark clothes because they don't get messy as easy.

[That's not the same thing at all but he's not quite sure what to say to that.]

[ For all his lack of empathy, Maine isn't oblivious to the shifts in mood of those around him. Typically, he just doesn't give a shit. But Sal seems ... taken aback, maybe? Awkward? Maine's not sure.

In any case, he guesses he shouldn't talk about enemy blood. He likes Sal; he doesn't want the guy to be uncomfortable.

So Maine nods and taps the black bodysuit beneath his armor's white outer shell. It's good for hiding messes, too. ]

[And this is why Sal always withholds his judgement. He's very appreciative of the gesture and smiles a little underneath his prosthetic face, despite it not being visible. He nods his head to get that across, at least.]

White is cool too, though. If you stand in the direct sunlight you probably get a bitchin' glow.

[ The Freelancer snorts a little laugh and nods. He's never thought about how bright his armor must be in the sun. But now that he is, he can't help thinking: ]

Imagine blacklight.

[ Think about how bright! ]

[Sal makes a noise halfway between a snort and a giggle at that. Giggle snort? Either way, that thought is hilarious to him for some reason.]

Dude, that'd be amazing. Who needs camouflage when you can just blind everyone.

[Well, not everyone. Bad guys. Or his enemies, he means. Whatever.]

[ Maine's shoulders jump as he huffs another laugh. ]

Best weapon.

[ Well, second best. The Brute Shot will always win, in Maine's opinion. ]

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