Weekend Entertainment!

[filemyclaim]

THE Milliways Test Drive MEME

HOW TO PLAY:

* Tag into this post with a pup you're thinking of apping to the bar with a brief EP set within Milliways and/or its universe. You can be new to the game, or simply want to test out a fresh pup.

* If you already play at Milliways, feel free to tag in with your own characters and interact with the new pups. You can also post your own EPs for these new characters to thread with.

* Mingle, post, and have fun!

Comments

[half_grendel]

The redhead automatically goes up several dozen points in Cal's estimation. Most people do not take weird things that well.

"I don't think this is Jack's fault," he says, glaring at a table. For a moment he considers punching it, but no, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Pub owners tend not to like it when you break furniture. "I mean, unless he managed to leave a door to this bar open in a New York City pub in 2012 as well."

He gives her a quizzical "does that sound possible?" look.

[abetter_shot]

Actually, the date takes Rebecca aback more than anything. Even if she makes it out of the Warehouse alive - and she has every intention of doing so - she'll be extremely lucky if she lives that long.
"Unlikely," she concedes. "Things tend not to leave our custody once they enter it; in your case, I suspect something else is going on."
(But she's still blaming Jack, in her own case.)

[half_grendel]

"That's what I'm afraid of," he mutters darkly.

He hesitates over the things that don't leave their custody. Cal only has experience with one artifact that wasn't supposed to leave anyone's custody, but that damned coffin and its contents were more than enough to make him leery of things that need to stay put.

Instead he asks about something else. "So where were you and Jack before you wound up here? And have you tried calling out?" He holds up a cell phone. "I've been trying for ten minutes. The phone's working. The signal just doesn't seem to be going anywhere."

This last sentence is accompanied by a death glare at the phone and a slight edge to his voice. (Though he would deny to his last breath that the edginess was there.)

[abetter_shot]

"That would go much more easily if we each had a-- that's a telephone?"
Says the woman with a Farnsworth in her handbag. But that's not as helpful as it sounds; even if it did happen to work, the odds she'd get Charlie and have to field a lot of awkward questions are far too high.
(Besides, she's not too sure she'd want to have to explain it to Jack, either.)
"And to answer your other question," she says, once she regains a bit of her composure, "we were at work."

[half_grendel]

Cal glances at her in surprise. "Uh, yeah, it's a phone. Though it doesn't seem to be acting much like one at the moment." He scowls at the phone in his hand and shakes it. This has no effect whatsoever. "And I was talking about city and state. Or maybe city and country. Because if you and I were in the same general area--like the Northeast or the Deep South--maybe the same thing pulled us both here."

Like a very, very large portal created by the murderous and predatory Auphe, for example. Except this doesn't look anything like their home dimension. And they're all supposed to be dead.

On the other hand, they've fooled Cal on that score before. And since he doesn't know of any other species that can create doors to other universes--well, he figures that it's a logical place to start.

He gives the phone one last shake and then jams it back into the pocket of his jeans, sighing. "Niko is gonna kill me for letting this happen. Again."

(Can we please slowtime till tomorrow? I am starting to get sick and should probably go to bed. Also, yay for Warehouse 13!)

[abetter_shot]

Rebecca nods slightly in response to the clarification. "South Dakota, in that case. 1957, as it happens."
She rather doubts it was the exact same thing. In her case, it was an unlabeled Artifact (a door, in a frame, free-standing at the end of an aisle in Toronto sector, that someone - she's still blaming Jack - saw fit to leave hanging open so goodness knows what might come through). She couldn't begin to speculate what might be doing it 55 years in her future.

[half_grendel]

The year gets a raised eyebrow and a murmured, "Okay, that's weird," but little more. He's more relieved that the year effectively rules out the Auphe. He's never heard of gates that stretch across decades. As far as he knows, Auphe-made gates, like his own, only remain open for a few minutes at most.

Of course, that doesn't exactly establish where they are, aside from not-New York City and not-South Dakota.

An undead waitrat--perforated with holes for speed--chooses that moment to walk up to both and indicate that it would be delighted to take their orders.

[abetter_shot]

"...Am I imagining things," Rebecca says after a few moments, "or... is that a rat? One that's apparently been shot?"
Really, that's unusual even by Warehouse standards.

[half_grendel]

"It...looks like a rat." Cal peers a bit more closely at the creature. "And I can see through the holes.

"I take it this isn't usual where you come from, either?"

He should be wary, he knows that. Niko would kill him for not having shifted into attack mode about ten minutes ago. It's just...a rat. And not all that menacing, even if it is undead.

The waitrat is not making things one bit easier. It's pointing to a list of drink specials for tonight.

[abetter_shot]

"Definitely not." Not that the Warehouse doesn't have the occasional rat running around, but... they tend not to have bullet holes (for speed or otherwise).
Rebecca takes the list, on the grounds that it might help answer a few questions. "'Milliways, the Bar at the End of the Univers'?" she reads off the top, still puzzled.
(Give it twenty years or so and the source of that name will almost certainly come to her attention. But as in her time, the author is five years old...)

[half_grendel]

Cal shakes his head. "You've got me. I never heard of the place."

Granted, this is his own fault, as his reading matter generally consists of old pulp detective novels, old pulp Westerns, and old pulp sci-fi, plus the occasional comic book. It does, however, mean that right now he's not picking up on a very pertinent reference.

He glances around the room in hopes of finding some clue as to where they are--because come on, end of the universe? REALLY?--and stares at something at least as improbable as their extraordinarily patient waitrat.

"...do I need my eyes checked, or are there fish swimming in the fireplace?"

[abetter_shot]

"...Well, I'm seeing them too, so I think you can spare yourself the doctor's appointment."
She turns back to the rat and says, "I... think I'll just have some water, please."
Better to stick to something simple until she knows what's going on.

[half_grendel]

"...make that two."

Not that he drinks much anyway, but staying sober suddenly seems like an extremely wise plan.

The waitrat nods in what almost might be an understanding manner and then scurries toward the kitchen.

[abetter_shot]

"Well. Interesting wait staff they have here." To say the least.
"Wherever 'here' is, anyway. Do they really mean the--"
And, well, one of them had to catch sight of the observation window sooner or later. "...Goodness. I suppose they do mean the end of the universe."