milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Olivia always has a tendency to pause when she opens a door to Milliways. It still takes her off guard for a beat, even now.

This time, though, the pause lasts a lot longer. The bar's a mess. It's the work of two minutes to see that's not all, either: she spots the notice on the bulletin board, the weird green crystal hovering over the bar. (Isn't there a video game like that? she thinks.)

En route to give the crystal another look, she passes by the door leading out to the lake.

Five minutes later, she's still there, frowning deeply as she studies the red sky.

Walter's requests for data can wait. Something is deeply wrong; if this place serves as a nexus to an infinite number of worlds, it's infinitely important to find out what.

[OOC: slowtimes likely throughout the night, but this post -- and all associated threads -- is open until we head to Dreamwidth!]

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There is soon a man standing nearby.

"Some say the world will end in fire. Some say the world will end in ice.

"I tried ice already. I guess this is fire."

A humorless smile twitches the corners of her mouth.

"I don't know about that," she says. Uncrossing her arms, she taps one finger against the window set in the top half of the door: a latticework of frost creeps around its edges. "It looks pretty cold out there."

"Maybe Frost got it wrong then. Not that I've ever seen him here to ask." More's the pity. "I saw something like this once. Things were bad for about two weeks. It took everything we had to make it through."

That catches her attention, sharp and immediate. Olivia glances over.

"Do you know what caused it last time?"

"A being called the Anti-Monitor. Who was the opposite, I think, of someone called the Monitor. It sounds silly out of context.

"I never heard a good reason for the skies going red. It was apparently a side effect of...of what it was. I never got a good explanation for the rest of the Crisis, either. Ted tried to explain, but it was technobabble." Where's Ted Kord and his flying Bug when you need them?

Oh. Something confined to his universe, then; not something that affected Milliways.

Unless --

"Do you have any reason to believe the same sort of thing might have...leaked over here?"

She has Official voice. The sort that goes with plainsclothesmen and Feds and occasionally costumes.

"It's possible. The Anti-Monitor was from another dimension. An anti-matter universe. I think. But that bit of weirdness doesn't quite match all the other bits of weirdness I've seen so far."

She nods, quickly absorbing this.

"What kind of weirdness is that?"

"The weird hologram. The explosion. The sense of unease. It feels almost alive. Almost like it has, I don't know, a mind. I didn't feel any of that back then.

"But I wasn't in on that fight, either." He did help fight the army of villains. But that was all.

It almost feels alive. A chill prickles her arms; Olivia acknowledges it, but doesn't let it show on her face.

"Where was the explosion?" she asks instead.

The bar's in disarray, but doesn't look scorched. Either the explosion happened on the grounds, she thinks, or it happened somewhere upstairs.

"Out there. There's a nice little crater and everything. I don't have a clue what causes it. For all I know it was a meteor.

"Not that I ever mind anyone asking questions, but...you're asking a lot of questions." He gives a dim smile.

She pauses; ducks her head an inch to the side, acknowledging, and offers a rueful smile in return.

"I'm still trying to figure this place out, I guess," she admits. "But from what I've learned, and...from other experiences I've had in the past, I have reason to be a little concerned if a universal nexus is facing potential damage."

"Other experiences...scientist?" Either that, or a superhero.

"FBI. But..."

The wry smile persists.

"My division's work leans toward investigating the unexplained."

"Ahhh. Like the DEO. Or any of a dozen agencies no one ever wants to admit exist." Makes perfect sense to him.

"Something like that."

Though the FBI will readily acknowledge Fringe Division if asked.

"A lot of our work lately has focused on alternate worlds, so finding a spot like Milliways was definitely of interest." Olivia gestures, absently, to the bar at large. "And I've heard of cases where the actions in one universe led to damage in another, so..."

She lets that sentence hang there.

"I'm afraid I don't really know much about alternate realities. They were the sort of thing people on the Internet whispered about, but I tended not to believe in them till I arrived here.

"Sometimes I don't know if I believe in them yet. This whole place could be an illusion. Purgatory." He doubts this is the case, but can't rule it out.

A beat.

Cautious: "What makes you think that?"

"Only that I'm dead. I am pretty sure of that. And once you are dead, I guess all bets are off.

"Though if it matters, I think this is real. But wouldn't that be an illusion?" He offers something almost but not quite like a smile.

"I suppose it could be," says Olivia, quite neutrally.

For all the data she's gathered, and the questions she's asked, the topic of dead patrons has never been broached before now. Silently, she's retrieving the information he's offered up to this point and reclassifying it: likely invalid.

"Sorry if I'm getting a bit philosophical. It's how I deal with Crises." He certainly didn't deal with them by running off to join the Justice League.

"It's all right," she reassures him with a quick, practiced smile. "Everyone copes with difficult news differently."

Like, for instance, believing they're dead.

"I actually feel tempted to put my mask on again. It seems to go with the skies." He says this just to see how she reacts. Truth be told, he suspects she is sure he's nuts. And it is just plain fun to gauge reactions, even in the face of doom.

Her brow furrows a touch. "Like a superhero mask?"

He did mention not being in on the fight, earlier, and...what others would deem 'superpowers' do exist. It does take a certain breed of (potentially delusional) person to take those abilities and fashion a superhero identity out of them, though.

"Very much like one. Though I never had anything resembling powers. I suppose 'costumed hero' or 'masked vigilante' were a lot more accurate." And even the term superhero is a bit pompous for most.

"Why would you do it if you didn't have any..." She opens and closes a hand, as if trying to grasp the word. "Abilities that would help you?"

"Long story short? Hubris. A misguided conviction that I was helping people when I was really just letting my inner thug out to play. The thrill.

"The irony of it is, eventually I changed enough that I could help people. But I needed to almost die for it to happen. And I still don't fully recommend non-powered individuals try it." Which would not explain in the least why he found and trained a replacement for himself.

There, again: the twitch of her mouth that's like a fraction of a smile.

"The party line of the FBI tends to advise against that," she says, lightly.

"Does your reality have costumes running around?" He thinks that his timeline's FBI at once looks the other way and hates there being hundreds of vigilantes under no control at all.

She shakes her head. "Not that I'm aware of."

Beat.

"We have encountered our fair share of individuals with special abilities, however."

"So it might be only a matter of time." Pause. "Assuming that what's going on here is local. Not that I think it's not, mind you."

A rueful twist of her mouth.

"Has anyone considered evacuation procedures should this get worse?"

(She's thinking of a man half-merged with another, a building shimmering bright against the Boston skyline.)

"I haven't heard anything. But I suspect something must be afoot." He hasn't seen Sallie since this started. "I guess you would have to ask security."

She nods.

"Do you know the names of anyone on security?" she asks.

"Just X-23. Laura." He never thinks of her as Laura.

The tiny crease between her eyebrows returns at X-23; ultimately, though, Olivia notes it without comment, and nods again.

"I'll be sure to look out for her," she says. "Thank you. I appreciate your help."

"Good luck." He wonders he'll see her again.

(She's wondering much the same thing.)

"Thank you," she says again, and offers another small smile -- and one last glance at the too-red sky -- before she turns to go.

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