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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Earth dredges up a lot of complicated feelings, and his face isn't sure which one is right before settling on a grimace. "Yeah. Earth. It's a radioactive dirtball. It was where I just showed up from, but I wouldn't go back. Ever. Especially not now." He schools his face a bit better to hear the next part, which intrigues him a bit. "Neohuman? Sounds like a much nicer and shinier term than stinkin' mutie. Or stronty dog."

An army of demons. Looks like this place wasn't as idyllic as Johnny first thought. Interesting tidbit about the anti-violence field, but he hopes he won't have to put it to the test. He gets her oblique reference to 'dealing with them', though. A kindred spirit, through and through. Most of his problems have a tendency to terminate at the end of a gun, and when all you have is a hammer...

"I hope you gave them the what-for," Johnny says dryly. And this time, he turns his head to address the Ghost casually. "I'd be amazed if there were any force in the universe that could save me from my own bad decisions."

That's not the kind of reaction you want when you name your homeworld. The Ghost starts with more obvious alarm at mention of radiation, but Blaze frowns with concern, too. She's heard a few tales now, of the catastrophes that can befall Earth's multiversal counterparts. That befall humanity, for that matter, never mind where they find it.

"'Stronty'-?" she echoes, curiosity getting the best of her before she decides she doesn't want to complete what sounds, in context, like a slur. "Hnn. We're not big on insulting people for their genetics. Neohuman covers anyone descended from humans who isn't a baseline human themselves. I'll take a wild guess you'd qualify for that, huh?"

And oh, but his response to the prospect of demons gets an approving chuckle along with her emphatic nod. Kindred spirits indeed. Her Ghost chalks another one up on the list of 'friends to worry about' even as he's determined to remain optimistic.

"Well, you've made it this far," he replies, pointed shell spinning for a moment. "I think that counts for something."

"-Stronty dog?" Johnny finishes for her. He quirks a smile at her reaction. "It's fine. The official name is Search/Destroy agent but most people everywhere just call us that, since there's lots of mutants in this line of work. It's short for Strontium-90, the radiation from the fallout which, well.. made most of us." He raises his gaze assertively. "Doesn't bother me, to be honest."

Johnny snorts inelegantly at the lighthearted quip. "Heh. How'd you figure? My mother was just unlucky enough to be caught out in a strontium rain while pregnant. Exposed me to just enough radiation to give me these." He gestures to his obviously glowing eyes, and winces when the movement stretches a burning cut on his shoulder. Speaking of making it this far, he's suddenly reminded of the various injuries littering his body, and how much he's going to have to fix them quick, if he wants to make it any further.

He braces himself against a nearby tree, trying to go for casual but ending up somewhere near exhausted. "I don't suppose you have a medi-kit on you, do you?"

(And don't you worry Ghost, Johnny and Blaze will get on like a tire on fire.)

"Huh." Her head tilts as he explains, considering his words. She can respect that - not taking too much heed of words, though it doesn't make her any more inclined to use the term. A Titan shouldn't speak carelessly (at least, when she remembers to be mindful). "...Gotta admit, mutation like that is a new one for us. But then long-term radiation exposure's about the only thing we didn't get hit with."

Given what she knows of pre-Golden Age Earth, she's already drawn rapid conclusions about the most likely source of that fallout, too. It's not like skirting the subject will make the answers any better, but asking the awkward questions is about to drop in priority.

She moves forward when he tries to not-slump against the tree, though Ghost is faster. The little bot zips out to take a better look at Johnny, even sweeping the thin blue light of a scan over him.

"Sure- hey, Ghost?" Her companion doesn't appear to do anything, but when Blaze holds out her hand the case materializes in her hand in the wink of a transmat. She pulls it open and checks the contents, warning as she does: "It's essentials-only - we don't get issued organic trauma kits - but we can get you to a medic if you need it. How bad are you hurt?"

"I have a pretty nasty cut on my shoulder and stomach that's been bleeding for - a while. I'll fix that first." Not to mention other various bruises, burns and minor injuries that pretty much paint Johnny's entire body various shades of black and blue under the layers. Now that the near constant adrenaline he's been living off for the last two days subsides, it takes his strength with it. His legs buckle under his weight, and he catches himself just in time to lower himself somewhat gracefully to the ground, back leaning against the tree trunk.

"Thanks," he says as the light sweeps over him, addressing them both. He glances at the medkit materializing in her hand with a slight sense of surprise, but doesn't say anything. He unclasps his bandolier, dropping it in the snow, but struggles with taking off his green kevlycra, peeling off with slightly tacky blood that won't unstick from his skin.

"Essentials will more than do." He says with quiet gratitude in his voice. He hopes she knows exactly how thankful he is. He's aware that he's putting himself in a very vulnerable situation, but Blaze doesn't seem like the type who would shoot him now. "There's a medic round these parts? Is that where the path leads?"

One last thing catches his attention. "You're not organic?"

Blaze kneels down with the open kit, glad for his sake that the trees offer some shelter from the winter weather. His thanks gets a nod from her, though there doesn't seem much to say. She can't imagine what else she'd do but help. A glance at his injuries and she gets to work finding the emergency dressings. She doesn't know what to do about the bruising. For now, well, she can give him a hand where he needs it. Most important thing to do is make sure he doesn't lose any more blood.

"There's a whole settlement down the path," she replies, passing him a pressure pad. "Don't know if it's organized enough to call a town, but medics aren't even the start of what you'll find there. We'll get you there as soon as you're patched up enough to move. You're going to need some fluids. Looks like you went three rounds with a Goliath tank." Times like this she feels her own inexpertise when it comes to her human kin. Feels like she ought to know more than she does - but she isn't going to dwell on the gaps.

His question gets a laugh out of her, despite the situation. "Nah, this is my real face. I'm an Exo - we're soldiers, built by humanity way back in our Golden Age. Ghost here is a whole other story, but he's just as much a machine as I am."

"I don't think anybody we meet is mistaken about that part," her companion points out a little dryly. His structure doesn't really lend itself to such confusion.

Johnny takes the medical supplies she hands him gratefully. He dresses the wound on his shoulder first, quickly. To be honest it's quite sloppy work, but he's in the business of making holes, not fixing them.

"Sounds good. The people there as friendly as you?" He jokes lightly as he yanks the bandages tighter. "And you're pretty close. Tanks were there, but it was the artillery that really got me. Then the army." And more than a few others who weren't as lucky. But he tries not to dwell on that.

"Huh." He finds himself re-evaluating Blaze, realizing that what he assumed was a helmet was actually her face. It doesn't change that much, to be honest, and if anything, makes her less intimidating. "Doesn't sound like much of a Golden Age if they needed soldiers. How old does that make you?" He'd expect someone as old as 'way back' implies to be, well. Less gung ho about things like Blaze is. It's impressive if she's managed to hang onto that for so long - Johnny's barely in his thirties (forties? Being dead for a decade confuses things), and God knows he's tired of life already. And Blaze sounds surprisingly less troubled about the purpose of her existence as a weapon of war. Maybe he'll ask her about it later.

He moves on to dress the wound on his stomach, but this one is much clumsier than his first attempt. It goes around to his back, and he tries to twist around to reach it, but it just hurts too much to allow it. He hates to do this, but... "Do you think you could, uh.."

"Heh, only when the Nexus isn't screwing with 'em. But the tricks this place pulls will make anyone cranky." Elaborating on that will have to wait though, because Johnny's assertions about the recent battle prompt her perk up and do some re-evaluating herself.

"Really?" Tangling with artillery and armor - and surviving - is an impressive feat for anyone not a Guardian. (It's not at all shabby for them, either, but Blaze's risk assessments are more than a little skewed.) "What kind of targets do you hunt? Because that sounds like a hell of a story." Not that she's wondering how many drinks she's got to buy to hear it, or anything...

As for the Golden Age, well. She doesn't meet many people astute enough to question the maths there. From the low 'heh' she lets out, it's not the first time she's considered the question. "Everything we know says it was the closest thing to paradise I've ever heard of. I guess even then, humanity was afraid of something. That would've been about eight centuries ago, I think. Don't remember myself."

Blaze is willing enough to move over and lend him a hand, though she'll remember in a second that she doesn't strictly know what she's doing. Can't be that hard, right? She resettles the dressing over the wound on his stomach carefully before wrapping it round to his back. "I've got it. Just, uh, yell if I wrap it too tight."

She's trying to be gentle. It helps that those armored gauntlets of hers are lined with mesh rather than plating: tough material, but flexible and a little warm to the touch. That, and Ghost is hovering close by, making sure she doesn't yank the dressing out of position. One way or another, the blood will get kept in and the dirt kept out.

Now hunting's a euphemism he hasn't heard in a long time. "I used to be a bounty hunter, so I guess those are the kind of targets that I hunted. Criminals wanted across the galaxy with million cred bounties." He's well aware that he's avoiding what she's actually asking about, and for a second he debates whether he should go into further detail or not.

"It's not really a good kind of story," he says carefully. "It's messy and a lot of terrible things happened. I know I wasn't in my right mind by the end of it." It's easy to say that now, once the obsessive spell of vicious justice no matter the cost had passed over him, and he was left here, shivering in the cold in a strange place far removed from the battlefield. "The war, the tanks, I had to-" He tries to get the words out, but they don't come. He tastes the smoke in the air, the vision of Milton Keynes surrounded by a ring of fire, and the earth quaking as people scream in the distance. "-It's not really a story you'd like to hear. Later, maybe." Blaze is gonna have to buy him a looot of drinks to get that one outta him. Maybe he could tide her over with some bounty-hunting stories, those are safer.

"Sounds like however you put it, humanity's always fucked." Well, there's his mood coming back again. He shakes his head and tries to lighten the atmosphere. "Eight hundred years is a long time to be alive. Bet you've got some crazy stories of your own." To be honest, he can't even begin to comprehend living for a time that long. "How much do you remember?"

He can't tell if she's joking or not, but a short bark of laughter escapes anyway. "Sure can do." His shoulders tense at her touch, but it's warmer than he thought a mech would be, and he gradually relaxes. By the time she's done, his eyes have slipped closed. Johnny can tell she's no more experienced at this than he is, but as long as his insides stay inside, he's happy. He looks down at her work, and nods in approval. "I'm gonna try getting up now," Johnny warns.

"Hnn. That kind of story." The kind that hurts too much to speak of easily. It's a shame, but she gets it. She will, however, be all the more keen to nudge him into talking about the fun stories. All the better to cheer him up, right?

"But not beaten," she counters readily. Defeatism finds no purchase here. "Actually, I, uh, wasn't alive for a whole chunk of that time. Between that and a few reboots- well, I remember the last few years since Ghost brought me back. That covers all the important parts." There's a certain amount of determination in that, but she genuinely doesn't seem troubled by her situation. "And all the best stories. We work off a bounty system for some things, too. Not so much the important targets, but taking them down isn't about the glimmer."

For that matter, she's a little bit proud of herself for successfully - and painlessly - first-aiding their new friend. Her commander's ~~crochet lessons~~ manual dexterity drills must be paying off. Blaze gets to her feet, ready to offer him a supporting hand if he seems to need it. "All right, let's give it a shot."

"Those cuts will probably need some kind of sutures," Ghost notes with concern.

He yanks his shirt down over the bandages and grabs the tree trunk with a white-knuckled grip, slowly getting to his feet. He slips a little in the snow and his other hand darts out to catch her arm, which doesn't even give slightly under the weight. The exertion already makes his breath come out in short pants, misting up the winter air. "Heh, well. The day people stop being the worst kind of bastard is the day I'll believe it."

He lets go of both Blaze and the tree, and starts determinedly limping down the paved path. "You don't remember most of your life? How can something like that happen?" The thought gives him a sick feeling, even if it looks like it doesn't bother her. He nods his head in agreement to the second half, though. "Sometimes it's not about the money, it's about making the world a little better by taking them out." He quirks a small smile. "Not that I argue with the money either."

Johnny ~~accepts his pain~~ waves off Ghost's concerns. "If it hasn't killed me by now, it can wait a little longer." Stitches are a good idea, though. "Long as nobody punches me, I'll be fine."

"They'll find their way eventually. Most of them." She's heard stories of their cousins across the multiverse that test even her faith in humanity - but then, her people can't have been any better, before the Golden Age. And they learned.

"Every Exo's been wiped a few times, and Guardians normally don't remember who they were before. Considering we're recruited from the dead, I figure that's a mercy." Blaze keeps watch while he pulls himself onto his feet, keeping close to offer an easy handhold should he slip again. She has to respect the strength of will that's keeping him moving; nonetheless, she wonders if there's an easier way. "Think you're up to hanging on to a thrust bike? Fastest way to get somewhere with heating."

Ghost is just going to give a little artificial sigh. He's heard injuries brushed off like this before. True, the anti-violence field ought to ensure Johnny can't get punched, but the man reminds him far too much of a Guardian to make that reassuring.

"Wiped." He states flatly. It irritates him, the way Blaze refers to her entire memory, her history being wiped away, like it's nothing. "Who the hell does that to you? Do you let them erase your memory like that?" He couldn't imagine Blaze letting anything she didn't like happen without a fight.

But... Blaze was dead too. Once upon a time. Huh. He finds it a little weird that it's standard practice to just raise people from the dead to be soldiers, but maybe there's a process to it he doesn't understand. "Well at least we've got one more thing in common. I died too, and you're right on that account. Sometimes I think it'd be a mercy if I didn't remember anything. Or was never brought back at all."

Johnny breathes a silent sigh of relief at her suggestion. The trek there would have been manageable, but it was cold. Thank the stars she didn't make the trip out here on foot. "If it's anything like a hoverbike, I'm game. What kind of model is it, if you don't mind me asking?" He hears the sigh from Ghost and brushes a quick, apologetic smile. "Sorry, lil fella. You've probably heard that a lot, huh?"

Something internal twinges and Blaze stops in her tracks, optics narrowing. Maybe it does sound bad, but most people don't react so vehemently. There was a time she'd have brushed it off easily, but lately her experiences in the Nexus have dredged up a murky load of questions and fragmented memories and... emotions she's not cut out to handle. She doesn't know how to feel about the subject, and her kneejerk response is to tense up uneasily.

"Settle down, it's not so- it's not like that. No-one's running around doing anything to us. Pretty sure the only people who'd know how are centuries gone." She lifts a hand to rub awkwardly at one antenna. "Truth is, I don't remember that either. But I don't believe they'd have done anything we didn't agree to. So maybe we needed rebooting, or wanted it. Or maybe- maybe it just happens. Not much left to get up in arms about, either way."

It's funny how death is the lighter topic of conversation here. Well, Blaze has an easier time with it at least. Even Ghost stops hanging back and watching carefully to give Johnny a curious look. "You did? How'd you get resurrected?"

Ghost gives a little dip of his shell as he answers the question, part of his attention on summoning the promised bike. "

Let's say I normally hear 'We'll be fine' right before someone jumps into a three-way melee. Or collapses the citadel under us. Or punches an evil shrine.

"

"You said 'destroy it'," Blaze remarks, watching a sleek grey and white bike materialize in front of them. The anti-gravs flare to life when she slaps the handlebars, the engine thrumming gently. "So this is a Sparrow - Cavalier series, S-21 variant. Won't be a comfortable ride, but extra weight isn't a problem."

Johnny notices her discomfort and fragmented speech and raises his hands apologetically. "Sorry. It's not my business, and I shouldn't pry if you don't want me to." But he knows how it feels to have unfinished business, to have closure permanently shut on him. To know what it feels like to have no choice but to move on. "But I'm glad to hear it. Nobody should ever 'need' to be rebooted. You're so much more than that." His mouth twists slightly at that, reminded of those who dictated what was best for people. "Have you ever tried digging up your past?"

Johnny accepts the topic change as gracefully as he can. "I died for a start. My friend McNulty brought my body to the Stone Wizards, and they yanked me back into my corpse." He exhales sharply, and his hand drifts closer to his heart. "I was dead ten years, and things changed. I caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people, and started a war I never should have. He meant well, but I'm still not sure if I should be thanking him or not. Not sure if I've changed my mind about living, either. I was trying to fix that mistake, right before I arrived here." The tone in which he says fix suggests very specifically, how he was planning to do that.

Hearing their back-and-forth exchange startles an amused huff from Johnny. "From personal experience, punching solves a lot of problems," he jokes. "Maybe you should keep an open mind, Ghost." He stares at the vehicle materializing in front of him and runs a fingertip across the sleek wing, impressed. "Now that's a fancy piece of tech," he remarks quietly. He hoists himself up to the back, leaving a handprint of blood on the seat. "Not the beat up hoverbike I was imagining. It's almost a shame to get it dirty."

"It's fine. Just isn't much to say about it," she insists, though this is more a statement of intent than of fact. But there's an unexpected sort of empathy in his voice, his words, and after a moment she answers his question: "No. I've seen other Exos who tried. Digging only gets you more questions, and not the useful kind. But-" she should warn him about this; it's only fair, if he's carrying any demons with him at all, "the Nexus sometimes has a way of dredging up the past and hitting you with it. Or things that might be the past. Kinda hard to verify if it's showing the truth."

There. Fair warning given, she figures.

His story gives both machines cause for concern... and not a little sympathy. Getting dragged back into the land of the living, thrust into a world you barely recognize? Blaze understands that. Ghost looks a little shifty, but she just observes, "Sounds like something isn't done with you, yet." She knows how that is too. "Did you finish what had to be done?"

Ghost was afraid Johnny would say something like that, but then the little bot chose his own Guardian, so he must have a fondness for the type. For now he vanishes again, leaving Blaze to mount up on the Sparrow and let their passenger get settled. Blaze still has her pulse rifle latched onto her back, all quiet and harmless for the moment.

"Don't let the polish fool you: this thing gets its share of beatings. Ghost's just a hell of a mechanic, that's all. No point having the gear if you don't put it to the test, right?" Soon as he's settled, she'll move them out, sticking to an easy cruising speed so as not to strain her passenger. It's still infinitely faster - and smoother - than walking; modified for the armored weight of a Titan, the Sparrow is heavier than it looks, but it bears the mass easily, even nimbly as they breeze down the path.

The corners of Johnny's mouth tug down into a thoughtful frown. He has a lot of skeletons in his closet that he'd been keeping shut for a while, but lately they weren't holding. She wouldn't warn him like that if there wasn't good reason for it. "I can respect that. Thanks for the warning, sounds like you experienced it first hand. How long have you been living here?"

"Yeah. Made sure it was the last thing I did." He says this with vicious satisfaction, a slight cruel edge to his words. Oops. His vindictiveness is showing. "Blew everyone to hell, to face at least some justice no one else would hold them accountable for. But it was too many dead. And not even a vengeance worth having. I don't have much reason to go back anymore, I've done enough damage. There's only one person I still give a damn about, and McNulty was still alive, last I saw. They don't need me to royally sneck things up any further."

He turns to address Ghost, curious as to how he materialized an entire thrust bike out of nowhere, but raises his eyebrows when Ghost vanishes. "Where did Ghost go?" Although Johnny isn't fooled by Blaze seeming less dangerous now. He has no doubt she could probably still snap his neck in a second without it.

"Right." He tightens his grip on the seat as they start off, but the longer Blaze shows off her deft piloting skills and doesn't ram them into a tree trunk, the more he gradually relaxes. They make good time, trees and landscape whipping by them, and he has to raise his voice a little to be heard over the wind. "How fast does this thing go? You ever race this?" She definitely seems the type to do that.

Blaze nods: she's had a taste of the Nexus's games all right. No sense in refusing to acknowledge the fact. At least he'll have a chance of being prepared - provided the Nexus doesn't choose to throw some completely different tricks his way. "Landed here about eighteen months ago, but we aren't residents. Our path in and out is stable, so we just come back to patrol the area. Collect field data, catch up with friends. Whatever's needed."

Make sure nothing escapes their world through here.

There's a low synthetic whistle at what he shares. It's not disapproving, although Blaze remembers a fraction of a second later that his story isn't the pleasant kind of messy. She wonders what his enemies did- still, fair is fair. He didn't press for her story. Besides- she likes how he stacks up so far. She's inclined to believe the best of the many ugly possibilities.

"Guess that solves one problem on this end," she says. "Not everyone finds a quick route home. It's good you don't have any unfinished business at your back." Closest thing to a clean break you can have with all those memories, she figures.

"I'm still here," Ghost pipes up, his voice noticeably tinnier, coming from the speaker outputs embedded at the Guardian's collar. "We don't all have hands to hold onto a Sparrow with. It's safest if I hitch a ride inside my Guardian's armor."

"Still weird when you talk through it," is Blaze's opinion. She's not used to hearing him quite so indirectly. She's focused on making sure Johnny stays on board for a few minutes- that and keeping her sensors peeled for any sudden pedestrians jumping out. Round here they'd probably just bounce off comically, but she's not taking that bet. On the other hand... that question brings a wistful chuckle that's all but lost in the wind. "Sure. Hard not to when there's another Guardian out with you. Give us a good run and we've topped two-twenty kilometers an hour, if those units mean anything. I owe a race or two still. Too short on time lately."

"Yeah." Johnny says, for a lack of better things to say. "So I'm here to stay. Does that mean I'll see you around sometime?"

That's... good. Johnny finds the thought somewhat reassuring. It's handy to have a six foot armored titan around as a friendly face. But the mech under the armor (part of the armor?) seems like a genuinely good person, and didn't throw him off the bike on hearing what he said in that little outburst. He feels a little shamed, actually, despite the lack of reproach. But he did warn her. No point in prettying up the deeds he's done to make himself look better.

Johnny did used to give people the benefit of the doubt whenever he could, but that was before all...this.

He jumps a bit in his seat on hearing Ghost's voice coming out of Blaze's armor, but settles soon enough. "Hard to imagine you fixing this bike without hands, either." He hides a smile at the thought. "But I bet she keeps you safe in there. And two-twenty? Now that's impressive. I've only been up to one-fifty myself, but that's the most my reflexes can handle safely. And if I really want to gun it, two hundred for long, boring, straight dirt roads. You guardians team up a lot?"

She'd smile, if she could. She won't forget anything he's said in a hurry, but bloodied hands don't trouble her so much unless they're earned dishonorably. She knows her own nature too well to object to violence in itself, but she cares very much about where it's directed.

"Count on it. Besides, the local comm devices all work interdimensionally. Get yourself one of those and we'll be easy to get hold of." And the more they see of him, the better to judge his character. Benefits all round.

"Well, you don't look as if you can see that well, and there's nothing wrong with your aim." The curiosity is evident in Ghost's voice, difficult though conversation can be with all the wind. Now that Johnny is en route to warmth and no longer bleeding out, it's possible to consider other priorities.

"Hah! Most of us take it down a gear when we're working - I only know a few people with the reflexes to hit those speeds in urban terrain without wrecking themselves. Still makes it more fun than straight roads." That's the only concern she thinks of, since in most of the cities she's seen the only pedestrians are hostile. "We usually form up into small fireteams - three, maybe six if the mission's serious enough. I don't have a regular team yet, myself. How about you? Used to working solo?"

"I'll be sure to do that first thing. You know how I can get ahold of one? Don't have much cash on me, much less anything they might take here." He could probably find odd jobs, but he doesn't know if bounty hunters are needed, or even wanted here.

Johnny blinks. "These? They're my mutation. I can see just fine with them. Better than most people, and a fair bit besides that." That very much understates the true ability of his eyes, but he's not one to talk big about himself when it's not necessary. People have always either heard it through wildly exaggerated second-hand rumors or been on the receiving end, and in both cases, it really didn't matter if they knew exactly what he could do or not.

"What kind of missions do you usually take? You look like you pack a lot of firepower by yourself already, can't imagine what you'd need six for."

Johnny's quiet for long enough to make the silence uncomfortable. "I used to. I had a partner called Wulf. We went everywhere together. He was a viking from the twelfth century, believe it or not. I saved his life on a time job and he wouldn't let me leave without him. Heh. He was always stubborn like that. Best twelve years of my life." He exhales sharply. "McNulty too. Those were better days."

"I've seen basic models in vending machines, but you can find someone to sell you just about anything. Don't know too much about starting out here, but most people aren't carrying a lot of money when they turn up. Got to be plenty of security work if that interests you - even heard some people are trying to police this place."

The first buildings aren't far ahead once they clear the trees: looks like there's a whole town living here. Or maybe fragments of a thousand different towns: even on the outskirts, traditional Korean houses sit alongside a marble-faced complex with graffiti in Ancient Greek scrawled over the walls, tree-houses and internet cafes and alchemical supply shops all jumbled up against one another with no rhyme or reason. Blaze cuts their speed as they approach - and yes, even if it's a fancy space-bike, the horn still has to go 'beep-beep'. You don't screw with a good tradition.

"Are mutations common on your Earth?" If Johnny's willing to talk about the subject, Ghost takes it as an opening to indulge his curiosity.

"Takes six Guardians to kill a god in his throne room." The pride rings through in Blaze's voice: it wasn't her work, but she revels in the victories of her brothers and sisters. "Ain't all about firepower though. Our strike teams mostly focus on taking out key enemy leadership, securing top-priority assets, that kind of thing." At least... when they're following orders, and not evicting Cabal troops from a stronghold because they want it for Sparrow stunts.

Even Blaze notices a subject is sore when the silence stretches out that long. She's a little quieter when she speaks. Respectful. Even the implications of 'time job' can wait a minute. "And he followed you all the way forward? Heh, that's a guy you want at your back. Our people still tell stories about the vikings, though they're mostly myth by now."

Johnny almost gives himself whiplash trying to get a better glimpse at the mismatched architecture in this place. He's used to alien structures, but this looks like actual earth history all smashed together in one place. Blaze throttling back the speed lets him take a closer look at their surroundings, and he hums under his breath, impressed.

"Yeah, might think of doing something like that." Johnny says absent-mindedly. "Don't suppose there's a need for bounties around here? I don't work so well with local law enforcement." They tended to be corrupt, anti-mutant pigs puffed up with their small town importance. And the ones who weren't were fascist as all hell. "They don't usually tend to like me for some reason. Something to do with being a swaggering mutie barging in on their jurisdiction."

"It's common enough. A result of the nuclear radiation from the dirty bombs - it really snecked up the environment. Most people aren't as lucky as me though. It's usually lumps, a second nose or extra arms, things like that. I even knew a guy who had his knee replaced with his face." Ah, good old Kid Knee. But his small grin fades slightly. "Well... it'll be much less common now."

Johnny stares at the snow. Not the time to spiral back into bitterness. Pulling himself together, he lets Blaze's words spark some measure of awe in his imagination. Now he understands the caliber of a Guardian, and what that really means. "Elite strike teams. I'm not surprised." He appreciates her tone. It alleviates some of the pressure growing in his chest, the sympathy of someone who doesn't really even know him but offers it anyway. "He lived up to all those legends, and more. Bloody great with a hammer, and picked up the sniper rifle easily enough once he wrapped his head around it. Would've landed myself in a shallow grave much earlier if I hadn't met him."

There's some weirder stuff the farther in they go, but it's the people who vary more wildly than the architecture: they don't have to be practical. Humanoids still seem to dominate, but the Nexus is home (or home from home) to everything from mechs like Blaze to centaurs and demons to the insectoid aliens scarfing the entire inventory of a hot dog stand over there. At least it looks like they're paying.

"Aw, you wouldn't swagger, would you?" she teases... though she also notches up another point of evidence about the Earth he's just come from. "I've seen bounties posted around. People like putting them up around drinking holes for some reason. I don't know so much about the accommodation here, but maybe one of our friends could help you out."

"That sounds like an uncomfortable place to keep your face," Ghost decides. "Not that I can really compare knee structures."

Blaze can neither blush nor smile at the compliment to her people, but she appreciates it. For all that it feeds her desire to earn that place among them for herself. She's young yet. "With our numbers, every Guardian has to count. Besides, there's all the more glory in it." Speaking of glory, though... "Hammer and sniper rifle, huh? Wish I could've seen that! And what about this time travel? Where we're from only our enemies have that kind of tech."

"Oh, you know me." Johnny says dryly. "Always gotta be the center of attention." They coast down the street, and the area reminds Johnny of hub worlds and alien ports in their sheer variety of life forms and goods on sale. "This place is a lot more orderly than most cross-planetary places I've been to. But there has to be something illegal going on, I suppose. Can't expect everyone to be bringing the same law from their homes," Johnny remarks. "Gives me something to do, at least. Though with the anti-violence field, it's probably more a question of tracking people down than anything."

He nods in appreciated assent. "They seem like good people if you trust them, but I can probably get on my feet alright. You already gave me a headstart." Literally. "But if I'm going to be spending time here, I might run into them sooner or later. Want to tell me anything about them?"

"Heh, no kidding." He's kind of starting to get Ghost's sense of humor. "Mother Nature isn't always generous with what she gives us. You're just lucky you don't have that problem." With knee structures or otherwise.

Hearing about Blaze's enemy's time tech perks Johnny's interest right up. His own forces were on the receiving end of time weapons before they'd co-opted it for themselves, after all. "What kind of tech are we talking about here?"

But the last statement by Blaze has Johnny thinking over his own response. There's a lot to cover in a few short words. "Well, time travel's a thing, but it's pretty restricted. You need a lot of paperwork and training to even think about it, and that's only on approved jobs only. No messing around in the time stream for personal reasons, otherwise the whole universe is gone. Sometimes a sneckhead escapes custody, flees to the 8th Century and starts messing around, killing ancestors and replacing the timeline, and I'm one of the few certified to take them out with the least fuss. And that's that." He says with a sniff.

Edited 2017-02-15 17:44 (UTC)

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