milliways_bar | First Entrance

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First Entrance

Outside the door...

When the front door opens, the man who steps in definitely gives off that 'career military' vibe, even as he stops just inside the threshold and tightens his grip on the duffel bag he has slung over his shoulder.

This is not his room - he's not even seen his room, yet, but he's pretty damn sure that this isn't it. Tendo probably put one of the lower officers up to the prank, trick the old guy into thinking the door that leads to one of the off-duty lounges is actually his bunk. He sets his face into a scowl, turns on his heel, and nearly walks straight into the wall.

(There had been a door there a minute ago.

He is way too damn tired for this bullshit right now.)

And so help Chuck, if the boy is in on this as well.

Still scowling, Herc turns back around and heads for the bar. Might as well see what sort of supply this Dome has available. It might help him sleep tonight.

[OOC: Herc has just arrived at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, so please don't spoil him for what happens in canon...especially if any pup has already met Chuck. Thank you! I'm in crackchat, young scurlock, if you have any questions. Open through the weekend.]

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Well, it's got a Marshall, does that count as a supply? He might not notice you at first, though, Herc. He's got a proper oyster stout like he hasn't had in a long time and the beverage deserves attention.

Herc isn't expecting to see Pentecost for several hours, if not days - last he heard, the Marshall was out somewhere on the Wall hunting for recruits to jockey in the latest incarnation of an old Mark III. They're trying to hold the line with outdated Jaegers and inexperienced crews; deep down, Herc knows they're all screwed.

But right now he's tired, and while he could use some chow at some point, finding the mess hall is more effort than he wants to put into the remainder of this day.

He drops himself onto a barstool, not noticing Stacker a few seats over.

"Bottle'a water and a beer, mate," he mutters at the bartender. (You see, where he's used to drinking, you don't get to choose your beer. You risk it, and sometimes you get lucky. And if it's shit, he'll probably drink it anyway.)

Up comes Pentecost's head, because if Herc wasn't expecting to see him, he sure as hell wasn't expecting to hear Herc.

"Hansen?" he says carefully. "When did you get here?"

He's setting his duffel bag down at his feet when he hears a familiar voice off to his left; turning his attention towards Pentecost, he arches an eyebrow in surprise.

"Marshall." He shoots a quick glance around the lounge. This is not a place he would ever expect to see Stacker spending time. "Just arrived this evening, ahead of the rest of Striker's crew. Their transport should be in within a few hours -- the old girl herself probably tomorrow morning."

He doesn't like being away from the Jaeger. It shows in his face.

"I thought you were out on the Wall, sir."

Oh dear God.

Even when he was getting paid by someone other than Chau, they did not pay him enough for this.

"I believe you'll find that I am," he says, doing his best to pull his thoughts together. "This isn't part of the Shatterdome. That would be too easy."

There are only so many ways a situation like this can go right, and a million in which they can all go wrong.

"The other side of the Breach is not the only dimension that links to Earth at irregular intervals, it turns out."

A few years ago, Herc might have suggested that his friend get his head examined - but he knows Pentecost's mind is just fine. It survived getting a Jaeger back with only a solo driver - a feat previously not thought possible.

And ever since sea monsters started coming up through the Breach to attack Earth, Herc's worldview (and otherworld view) has expanded some.

He looks around the room.

"Are you saying that we're in a pocket dimension, sir?"

"Got it in one," says Pentecost. "And it's named after the work of Douglas Adams, no less. Welcome to Milliways, Hansen. The first drink's free."

That's the important part, just at the moment.

Herc scrubs a hand over his face, as the bartender returns with a bottle of ice-cold, filtered water. And a beer that looks like it actually might not taste like someone made it in a bathtub stashed in an unused bunk room.

"I have not had 'nough bloody fuckin' sleep to deal with a pocket dimension right now," he grumbles. He reaches for the water first, uncapping it and taking a drink - and nearly spits it out in surprise.

It's clean. And it's truly clean, not just filtered down and treated to get rid of any traces of contaminants.

"Bloody 'ell, the place s'got water like this, I might rethink complainin'."

"It has everything like that," says Pentecost. "Pure water, quality drinks-" He holds up his glass of stout. "Un-rationed food of any kind you might remember."

It's as close as he gets to a lighthearted tone these days. This is because he's thinking, and thinking fast. When it was just Mako popping in as a child he thought it imaginary here; when he first started coming it wasn't enough to notify anyone. But-

Well.

Chuck. And what he said was coming.

There are people who want very much to keep the time stream intact and not cause paradoxes. Pentecost, as much as he might theoretically approve of this concept, considers saving his planet and his civilization more of a priority. It's been his primary responsibility for more of his life than he cares to remember now. The future may- may- have happened for Chuck.

But not for him, and not for Herc; and if there is some way to use this place, and that knowledge, to make absolutely sure the Breach is closed, then he's going to do it- and he's going to inform the people under his command about it. They need to know.

But they don't need to know now. When he knows how to convey that information properly, and he's had time to think, yes. The Bar keeps him out of time; he'll have time to think for a bit first. Right now-

"I'd have told you about the place before this, but without proof it sounds too much like wishful thinking to be worth the effort."

Ivan's tired, there's a lot to do in Komarr and no one seems to be agreeing on anything.

He's at the counter in his green uniform with his collar unbuttoned as he eats a good dinner of fish with a big glass of wine. When Herc sits down, Ivan looks over to see if he recognizes any of his patches since he looks like a military man.

There are only a few patches on Herc's jacket at the moment - the one on the sleeve of a bulldog holding a missile in its mouth most likely to get Ivan's attention.

What gets Herc's attention is the wine. He hasn't seen any wine since the Kaiju came through the Breach, except on the black market where you've got to practically kill a man to get a bottle.

The patch makes him smile, "What sort of unit is that from?"

His wine for him isn't too interesting, just one from Barrayar.

...did this guy just crawl out from under a rock? He doesn't know what Striker Eureka's patch looks like?

Even if the man isn't Australian, Herc and Chuck have been on every news broadcast for what feels like the last year, kicking Kaiju arse and smiling for the cameras after.

"It ain't a unit. It's my Jaeger."

"Jaeger, is that a type of ship?"

It sounds like the sort of name a navy would come with.

The guy is military, given the uniform - the patches aren't entirely familiar, but Herc hasn't spent much time studying up on the world's military forces lately - so there is no reason that a military man, in the Shatterdome, wouldn't know what a Jaeger was.

He must be in on the joke with Tendo, Herc thinks.

"Nah, it's the name I gave my...no it ain't a ship. You know, Jaeger program, fighting mechs built to take down the Kaiju 'fore they tear apart the fuckin' city?"

"No, never heard of it. What planet are you from?"

Some of his patches have Cyrillic on them, which might be familiar.

The Cyrillic is. The question, however - what planet are you from - just irritates him.

"What planet...Earth? Same as you, since y'look to be a Russian given the tape on your uni," Herc grumbles. He's really not in the mood for a game right now, not after getting kicked around Sydney by Mutavore and dealing with the rough hangover from the Drift he and Chuck had to deal with getting through the handshake.

"No, I'm from Barrayar not Earth. Barrayaran Imperium in the Hegen Hub?"

He sighs, he's getting sick of going through his every single conversation.

Herc just stares at the man. There are many questions he could ask, many things he could say in response to that statement. Most of them would not be fit for print, or for a man of his rank to say out in the open.

He settles for a basic one.

"Well what the fuck are you doing in the Shatterdome, then?"

"I'm not. I'm in Milliways and before that I was in the Solstice Dome on Komarr,"

Shatterdome sounds wrong and like a weapon.

It is a weapon. One of the many they have built to cope with the fact that giant mutant monsters keep rising from the ocean depths and obliterating their cities on the Rim. One piece of the fight in the Kaiju War. The Shatterdome is a weapon, just like the crew that staffs it is part of the weapon, just like the Jaegers are.

Just like Herc is.

"You're fuckin' mad, that's what you are," Herc mutters. Turning his attention towards the nearest person who looks like a bartender. "They told me I was going to the end of the world, didn't realize I'd get the last of the litter t'help me on the way there."

"No, I'm not and you are at the end of the universe. Last of the litter, usually that's the one Miles gets called not me,"

He waves to the Window before instead of ordering a wine, gets a brandy which appears in front of him.

Herc turns his attention the Window and glares at it for a moment, though it doesn't unsettle him as much as it has other patrons upon their first glance.

(When you've stared down into the gaping jaws of a Kaiju and pictured your bones snapping between the damn thing's teeth, your blood running down its throat and your brain short circuiting just before you get the honor of leaving the Earth - staring at the end of the universe doesn't scare you very much.)

But there is something wrong about it. He's not sure what it is, but it's there in the back of his mind.

"Great, I missed the fuckin' apocalypse and ended up in Limbo with a bunch of bloody morons who don't even know what damn planet they're from."

"No, I know, you just don't know where you are,"

All day he's had generals and admirals arguing with each other and some of them giving him looks because they know who he is.

"I just got off the damn chopper, kid," Herc growls in the tone he uses on Chuck when he's resisting the urge to pop the boy across the side of the head to get him to settle the fuck down. "Walked into the 'Dome, got my shit straight, and walked into what you damn bastards told me my bunk ways. I've spent the last fourteen hours sittin' on a hard bench in a damn bird, after spendin' my morning fighting off a damn Class IV Kaiju. I'm not in the mood for games. So tell Tendo or whoever the fuck put you up to this, to kiss my ass."

He grabs his duffel bag off of the floor.

"If you're what we've got to work with here in Hong Kong, then we're bloody well already screwed. Might as well let the damn Kaiju in the front door."

"Its not a game, its a wormhole, but then what I do know. I'm just a captain in Ops who keeps everything running and has spent all day at a conference table with men with too high rank and not enough brain,"

Ivan barks back as he stands up straighter to glare at Herc.

Jay has his feet up on a chair and a table full of parts. It's hard to tell what his building but most of them are computer components and wire. A soldering iron sits off to one side.

He looks up when Herc comes through the door. "You look you need coffee, man. Or eight hours straight sleep."

"I could probably take the coffee and then go straight t'sleep, honestly," Herc replies. His eyes fall to the soldering iron and the computer parts - he's never been a true mech, but he knows enough about how to fix things that he finds the sort of work interesting.

"Bar, my dear?" Jay calls over to the empty bar. "Any chance of getting the new guy a coffee? My favourite Turkish stuff. Throw it on my tab."

A small cup of very rich coffee appears on the bar and Jay nods to it. "Help yourself." He gets distracted for a moment, trying to get a fine wire into place.

There is someone at the Bar already. Tall and broad shouldered, dressed in flowing robes of grey, well-washed linen and silk. With long, dark, flowing hair held in place with silver stars.

The newcomer gets a friendly smile and a small, but polite nod.
His eyes shine with the light of stars and his voice is warm as a summer's day.

...that is just weird.

Herc is staring. Sorry, Elrond. He's just never seen anyone like you in a Shatterdome before.

(Maybe he's one of those weird Kaiju-worshipping-cultists? If he is, how'd he'd get in here?)

Elrond doesn't mind the staring.

He's gotten used to it by now.

Though, there is a specific way people stare, when they have just arrived here. Or have yet. To understand this place's true nature. As much as anyone could ever understand that.

"Are you new here?"

Tall woman in her twenties, pink streaks in long brown hair, bright pink biker boots, ripped jeans, yellow t-shirt with KAPOW! in red, like a comic-book. Little silver Security badge, pinned so it's visible.

Oh, and a bottle of beer in one hand.

She might look like a kid, if you're not looking too close.

"Evening," she says mildly, and raises her bottle in something like a wave.

Jaeger pilots usually start young - at least the hopeful recruits, anyway - and when the end of their civilization as they know it is looking more and more likely, Herc isn't surprised to see a young woman in what he thinks is an off-duty lounge.

The streaks in her hair don't phase him either - the biker boots, a little bit.

He could care less about the beer. Legal age is irrelevant these days.

"Evening," he replies, offering her a smile, though it's tinted with a little bit of exhaustion and some frustration.

She'd like to think she at least looks older than eighteen, but who the hell knows.

Hansen gets a grin for his smile. "I take it you're new in?"

He's less with the flabbergasted than most, but hang around here for long enough and you start getting kind of a sixth sense for newbies.

[ooc: um, hi, did you want to chat at some point...?]

[Ooc: Of course! I was waiting to catch you online, but was just told you're usually invisible. I guess I remember Back In The Day when I used to be on, that wasn't the case, as you were usually visible. I just thought you hadn't been around. I'm on now, but I'll message you regardless.]

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First Entrance

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