nexus_crossings | Strange Awakening

Strange Awakening

He was supposed to be dead. Not wherever he is now.

Not even moments ago he was on a hopeless mission, standing in the ruins of the parliamentary chambers surrounded by dead guards and the quailing politicians who'd spent years spitting and stamping on people like him. In his hand, he clutched the explosive that would bring the whole corrupt system crashing down on all of them.

He knew he was on a suicide mission from the instant the tide of battle turned against his forces and had no choice but to turn to panicked flight into the countryside. But he'd stayed. Despite the danger, the scattered executions and volleys of gunfire echoing across the field, it was his only chance. They were so close, and they would never get this opportunity ever again. This all had to be for something.

He had glared at the chamber with his white eyes, one hand still on his blaster. Wounded, vicious, victorious - He'd clicked it, and then... nothing.

Or it should have been.

He felt the wave of fire flash up his arm, then was left blinking and disorientated when he found himself lying on the edge of a small pond, waves lapping gently at his wounds. And more importantly, alive.

He stared at his hands, and then his surroundings. Just a quiet copse of trees, birds chirping sweetly around him. No stench of smoke and blood in the distance. Just a peaceful, forest setting. There was even a picturesque cobblestone path set into the ground, winding its way into the distance. Climbing painfully to his feet, completely lost for words, he only managed to whisper out -

"What the sneck is going on?"

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The pond is the reason he's here. It's unseemly to have such a body of water still shifting and moving in the dead of Winter. He's halfway through freezing it when he notices the stranger. People suddenly appearing is hardly an oddity in the Nexus, but Reynard eyes the man up and down nonetheless.

In contrast to the stranger's whispering, Reynard replies vibrantly. "Very little. Birds are singing, people are having a quiet walk." He looks down by his feet where ice is spreading across the water, and steps away from it, smiling as he returns his attention to the man. "And Winter is keeping a firm grip on this place."

Johnny whirls around at the sound of someone speaking. It takes his eyes a moment to focus, but Johnny bristles when he sees the man eyeing him. It's an instinct to step back and draw his gun in a flash. He ignores the way the freezing air makes him shiver, leaving little chance of him actually hitting his target. Strangers these days had a habit of shooting him on sight.

But he isn't shooting just yet. The cheerfulness and content of his speech makes him hesitate. He's reluctant to call the man a friend, but he didn't make a move to execute him while he was lying on the floor. Was he a norm sympathizer who dragged him out of the wreckage and brought him here? It's all very cryptic and mysterious, and Johnny grows more frustrated as he speaks.

"What happened to the battle?" Johnny's attention splits off the stranger for a moment to glance around at the setting, and the strange sight of the pond slowly icing over. Johnny looks back at the man, realizing there was something distinctly off about him. "I was dead. I knew it. Did you bring me here? And what does winter have to do with this place?"

Reynard watches the stranger take in his surroundings and show no signs of recognition. Coupled with the mounting irritation in his tone and the disoriented rambling... The spirit's eyelids lower as understanding snaps into place.

"You don't know where you are, do you? It's your first time." Of course it is. Reynard smiles gently, sighs, and shifts his weight so that he can put his hands on his hips, gesturing around him occasionally as he speaks. "This is the Nexus, a meeting place between worlds. Welcome. You could have gotten here any number of ways. You might be dead in your world, you might not. You might have been sent here, you might not. It's different for each person. Only you can find out what your own story is."

Johnny stares disbelievingly at the stranger, trying to take it all in. Not just at his words, but also his lack of reaction. He just aimed his gun straight at him and the man didn't even blink, other than to keep talking in that same understanding, soothing voice. And what he said was almost unbelievable. But he was here, wasn't he?

He shakily lowers his gun and nods curtly. "Sorry. I wasn't- I didn't know. I didn't mean." He stows his blaster back in his well-worn holster, and stands there with his hands held helplessly at his sides. Now that he knows he's not in danger of getting in a fight any time soon, he feels slightly awkward. "Thanks. And about this place. Where can I go from here? Do I have to go back?"

He looks up at the birds in the trees as he says it, and there's no disguising the reluctance in his voice at the prospect.

If it had been any other Season his reaction would have been very different, but considering how many times he's been shot in Winter the fear has long since vanished of guns, even alien ones. The cool, distant edge to his gaze softens once the man apologizes. It's nice to meet a gunman with manners.

"You don't have to go back, no." For a moment he considers mentioning that the stranger might not be able to find a way back, but he decides there's no need to just yet. "Right now you're in where they call the Wilds. You can head to the main Plaza, Downtown… There's a lot to explore. Be warned, this is a strange place."

He eyes the man up and down again, tapping a finger resting on his hip. "If you tell me how you got here I'll show you the way to where you can get food, drink and a place to stay."

Johnny straightens his back, tries to get out of the instinctive fight or flight mindset. There's no place for that here, and he's lucky that the man didn't take offence to him. By the sounds of it, there's a whole little town here, filled with people who might not know of his crimes. Food, drink and shelter. Sounds good for a man living in a tent the past few months.

His gaze unfocuses as he tries to determine how best to explain his situation. "I'm a mutant. Where I'm from, people don't take kindly to that. Norms - the ones who were lucky enough, or rich enough to avoid the fallout from the bombs, didn't like seeing us around. You don't want any ugly mutie freaks with three legs stinking up your street." Johnny laughs, a bitter, ugly thing. "Move them into the ruins, who cares if there are still strontium rains out there? They're mutated enough already."

But the bitterness quickly fades from his voice, and all there's left is a tired weariness. "We fought a war over it. We won and secured limited rights, but it's not like they honored it. Twenty years later, and they're back at it again. They secretly poisoned the food aid headed into the ghettos, made everyone sterile. Much more 'merciful' like that, letting the mutants live out the rest of their lives."

"I found out and…" At this, Johnny looks down at his gloved hands, and the blood in the seams. "I started the war. Of course I did, it's all I know. They took our future away from us, so it wasn't like we had much else to lose. We were almost at their seat of power when they revealed their trump card. So I had to…" Johnny trails off. "I had to take us all out. It was our last chance, we lost too many getting there. I would've preferred a trial, but sometimes this is all the justice we can get."

Johnny looks up and smiles wryly at the stranger. "And then I woke up here. A good enough story?"

Reynard listens carefully, closely. The mention of mutants has him reconsidering the man in front of him, but he doesn't appear at all perturbed by the notion. If anything he's glad he got an explanation for why the man seemed a little strange.

Once the story ends and he's asked his opinion he nods once and begins walking. "Good enough. Familiar story, different characters, as it often is. The only thing it's missing is an introduction." He looks at the stranger. "What's your name?"

Johnny follows after him, struggling slightly to catch his footing in the snow. His breath puffs in the cold air. "My name's Johnny Alpha. Nice to meet you." He makes an attempt at a smile, and strangely enough it comes up genuine. He would offer his hand to shake, but he's not quite at that level of comfort yet.

And besides, the man did say that this place was strange. Whether that meant dangerous or not, he was still keeping his hands free to draw if he needed to. "I didn't catch yours."

Johnny's slight difficulty with the weather has Reynard's mouth curling into a crooked smile again, but he waits for the man nevertheless. He has no issue with the snow or the ice and walks as if it were perfectly normal ground. In fact he doesn't even leave footprints.

"Reynard North." He pauses to touch the tip of his hat at the other man. "A pleasure." It's only as he continues walking that he thinks to ask, "Are you hurt, Mr. Alpha?"

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