I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

[checkingin]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: May 7th
What: Feed me, Seymour

ARRIVAL.

you wake up when you hit the floor in a dark room, and the air is knocked out of your lungs. the carpet is threadbare, worn with use, kind of dusty. and you're not the first person to endure this crash landing. nor will you be the last.

once your vision rights itself, you can see the well-lit hallway through the doorjam straight ahead of you. not to say there’s monsters in the shadows, but something propels you towards that door and out into the bright hallway beyond.

and once outside your room, you can hear it: the steady thrum of rain outside.

MAIN LOBBY.

there's a staircase at the end of the lengthy hallway you tumble out of. grab your suitcase and follow the dull green exit signs on the ceiling until you reach the disappointingly bland stairs that lead you down to the ornate old fashion hotel lobby.

to your left is an richly crackling, rather excessively smoking fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, all three of them thrown wide open and welcoming. and outside the few (curtained, permanently dark) windows is the continually steady hiss of rain. once you leave the hallway you wake up in, you won't be able to return.

welcome to the hotel.

FRONT DESK.

though there is a bell and a plaque designating the desk to be the main desk, the customer service desk, there are currently no staff members behind it. none shall answer your calls, either. there is, however, a pad of paper and a pen neatly aligned with the desk edge. you know. for notes.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of alice in wonderland will be playing on loop. at the back of the room, between the neat rows of fold out chairs, mounted on a wobbly table is the old-timey projector, and mounted on the walls are some rather old speakers that warble out "terrifying" old music.

along the curtained windows is another long table, with a large bowl of chipotle cheese popcorn corn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, with a few cups and some old looking packages of apple cider mix.

DINING HALL.

is tragically, painfully empty.

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently open, and the grand doors unlocked.

there is no main door leading to the outside, good luck trying to find one.

the doors to the courtyard are unlocked.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors one and two. while there is an open elevator in the main lobby, and the buttons light up inside, the doors will not close. all in all, you'll be better off taking the stairs.

while they're the same stairs you undoubtedly came down to get to the lobby, the door to the endless hall everyone woke up in will not reappear between the main floor and the subsequent residential halls.

there are twenty rooms per floor. feel free to get to know your surroundings; or your neighbors as they trickle in around you.

EXISTING GUESTS.

are you dreaming of omlettes and regretting complaining about the constant pancakes and weak ass coffee yet?

Comments

[deadlystar]

He was hiding it earlier, but now that he admits it, perhaps he trusts her a little more. Otherwise, he would guard something like that. One did not want to appear weak when surrounded by strangers.

Gamora crouches down in front of her suitcase and opens it. "There was some strange fruit in this case I found." How she even knows how to unlock it is beyond her, but she pulls a lime out of the case and offers it to. "Here, you can eat this. I tried one already, so it isn't poisoned."

[ingrantitude]

"She is." And Ward finds the iron behind it. she is, she's his - he's going to keep her safe from all parties, "...She's been playing Melinda May up until recently."

[ukase]

"The Cavalry? That's a riot," he replied, curling his lips in a faint smile. He had heard that she had been shifted assignments, though he hadn't cared enough to look into it. If he bothered with every SHIELD agent, he'd never sleep. "So what's your deal then? You said fighting the good fight, but who is here to fight against?"

[ingrantitude]

"How far do you honestly think, SHIELD is willing to go? There's a truce in place, with me - but the way things are going here with food it's always a good idea to have a trump card up your sleeve and be prepared for people to split into factions at any time.

I'm a realist."

And he sounds more then a little bitter, "...nothing lasts forever."

[ukase]

Rumlow smirked and set his hands on his hips. "Yeah well, your truce with SHIELD doesn't include me, and the sooner we get some information passing between us, the sooner I get to work doing what I do best," he said, his tone brimming with confidence. Yeah, the Triskelion dropped on him; he got better, and revenge was in the cards against SHIELD.

"No, nothing does. Change is good." For some. Others who fell behind the curve could just get swallowed up.

[ingrantitude]

"Hear me out for a moment." Ward held up a hand, "They have enhanced people. And we don't know what enhanced they have or for that matter if Coulson has more enhanced that he hasn't brought to the table. It's better to wait until we know exactly what we're dealing with."

He pauses, "We could turn the whole hotel against them then."

[ukase]

"Enhanced how so?" This kid wasn't giving him much to work with, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. He certainly was not interested in standing out in the bloody open where apparently anyone could walk by while he fished information. "Coulson, huh? I like dead people."

Three against however many wasn't helping him here. "And how many are in the hotel? I want numbers, not whatever pussyfooting you're doing."

[ingrantitude]

"They have abilities." Ward says, "I know of at least two. Maybe three people with abilities. The kind of stuff you'd only see from people like Banner."

"As far as I know there's just Coulson, his protege, and his lab tech. Coulson - can't get more enhanced then coming back from the dead right? And his lab tech-"

Fitz can take it.

Fitz will understand.

"...They ran into a bit of trouble in Puerto Rico and something happened to him. He won't talk about it but the little shit broke two of my ribs."

[busdriver]

I don't like chocolate.

[It's almost reflexive, quick and easy and even-toned. May knew someone would ask. It'll sound like an oversimplification, because it is; she likes fair trade dark chocolate with a high cocoa content. Just as the question wasn't necessarily hostile, the answer isn't necessarily evasive. She's got a lot more time than others here, before the point of desperation. Her last substantial meal isn't a distant memory. She can afford to be picky, so that's what she's choosing to be.

She's paranoid, if only occupationally. Enough to suspect, herself, that the cake could be poisoned, but then she reasoned that in a closed environment like this one, there'd be surer ways to hurt her and whoever else she might come into contact with.

She looks at him, as a belated courtesy, right after she speaks. She's seen him before, albeit not in a context that makes her startle or tense immediately. Her recognition isn't automatic or profound, but it's noticeable. She doesn't suppress her reaction. Coulson mentioned Sergeant Barnes in passing, listing their allies and enemies here. May won't force an introduction.]

[64th]

She sits, depositing her crackers on the table. She's eating slowly, just one at a time, trying to savor having something in her stomach again. It gives her time to answer his questions in between bites.

"No staff, that we have evidence of. There's some hints that someone is around. We haven't been abandoned here. If you rip all the sheets off your bed and leave the room for twenty, thirty minutes when you come back the bed's made." It's as weird as it sounds. "So we don't have a lot of details. As for where, I don't think it's anywhere any of us come from."

How many people are there? She has to think about that, running through the faces she knows and those who have left. The hotel is small, so coming and goings are fairly obvious. "With you newbies?" she smirks, and it spreads into a wider smile. "Close to forty, I think. Mostly from different places - worlds. There's people from my home here." People who she wouldn't even have counted as allies at home, much less friends. But they're from home and that means something.

[ukase]

"Because we need more than one green rage monster in this world," he replied dryly. 'Abilities' was kind of all encompassing; he liked to think he had abilities that he honed and was about to employ fairly soon.

"He came back from the dead." Ah, that explained a few things. Fury had to know; had Pierce? No, the wily old bastard would have wanted that tech or whatever else was involved to do that. Immortal HYDRA agents and all.

"So you were witness to what happened to him and his abilities?"

[ingrantitude]

"That's not all."

He snorts. He was treading on dangerous ground here, "Coulson's protege shot me. But the two of them tricked me out into the open and I saw it for myself."

He'd have to leave Fitz a weapon. Or tell Kara to keep an eye out for him but with HYDRA here - especially someone as dangerous as Rumlow -

Yes. Kara.

He'd tell Kara to keep an eye out for Fitz. Back-up as it were and he'd keep an eye on her.

The thought of having a clear enemy is so refreshing he smiles, warm but not friendly. Friendly when it came to HYDRA meant threat. Even as he swooned ever so slightly.

"...God I'm starving."

[ukase]

Rumlow regarded Ward for a long moment, considering what he had been told, but he was mostly considering what he hadn't. He mulled it over quietly, still listening to the words the flowed passed him. He made a few connections of his own.

Avoidance behaviour. Throw out words here and there, change the subject often to confuse the subject. Give enough information to be interesting but not enough to be useful. Jump around. Hope for the best. Expect the worst.

He wasn't born yesterday. And shit the little menage et trois was down to masturbation again just like that. Not even the offering of a goddamn cigarette or a slap on the ass. At least he knew he was still back to the old motto of doing things himself was the only way to make certain it was done right at all.

"You're full of smoke and mirrors, but when you want to deal, let me know. Until then, stay out of my way, pup," he growled, grabbed the handle of his suitcase and moved to walk away.

[ingrantitude]

"What do you want in deal?"

Ward spread his hands wide, twisting to look at him, "Everything I told you is good. It's good intel, and you have allies here."

He'd make a grab if he weren't sure that Rumlow could break him into six pieces and mail them to a different part of the hotel if he felt like it.

"You don't think I don't want a piece of Coulson? I was a prisoner, behind a SHIELD badge for most of my life. Now I get stuck here? If you've got an idea to make them suffer by all means do it but I..."

"...I dunno, the way SHIELD turned it around? Suddenly deciding that out of everyone they're the good guys? Making it look, like they're the saints in this whole picture when they were harboring us? Hunting down HYDRA cells. You caught up? Seen the news? Seen how they're on the lookout for HYDRA like it's some kind of terrorist organization when you and I both know that the whole point..." His mouth twitched, "You should hear him, talking about the greater good and how he had to help people but he killed Garrett. Blew him to pieces with Fury's goddamn blessing and he still wants to be called a good man after that?"

He's unaware of how his voice has risen five or six octaves but he lowers it, "...Things change. Especially here. You want to sit on your hands go ahead but eventually, you know they'll out you. It happened to a guy from a different time and a different place and if you're here - who knows if SHIELD hasn't added to it's ranks? If there aren't Avengers here?"

Ward might appear slightly unhinged at this point. Slightly, ever so slightly. He may not be Natasha but he can play both sides - it just takes more of a toll on him. He stopped, realizing just how tired he was of playing the double game and how he'd desperately wanted them to leave him alone.

He sags, "...Keep to the truce I have going until they make a move. and they will, you know they will."

But what if they didn't. What if they don't. He stops, reflecting on that but if Rumlow's here that means HYDRA is here and HYDRA is dangerous.

"But until then, you could gather allies here, intel, recruit people to the cause who might be willing to join a new head - a better head. someone who can...fulfill Pierce's legacy. People who might have answers. And then - you can have the satisfaction of showing SHIELD off as the rotted corpse it is to anybody who might believe it. They spat on HYDRA and called the mission - the real mission wrong. They need someone to control them."

He licked his lips, expecting - fully expecting the other man to hurt him, "Don't you want to show them the truth if the occasion calls for it? In the long run, why not drag them down before killing them all? There's got to be a time for it and god damnit if I don't want revenge."

"Especially since that kid, that boy broke me after his goddamn girlfriend shot me. He got earthquake powers. You really want to be in here if he goes off? Without figuring out a way to stop him?"

He has to at least try and take charge and him walking away...after outing Skye and the rest of them despite trying to throw false information. He can't raise his arms to do the full salute, and it leaves the worst taste in his mouth as he does so - but not knowing where the other man is coming from is dangerous. "...Hail Hydra."

[busdriver]

[May sucks a breath in through her teeth, which is another of those half-sympathetic, half-chastising things. What did Skye do? What didn't she that she should have? Her eyeline dips to the level of Skye's discolored hands. Skye's sweater sleeves are covering her arms, which is where May would expect to see more bruising. She's already wondering if the damage radiated up from her hands, or out from her chest. There's no question in her mind that Skye used her powers and then contained them, or, inverted them. Control what you can't use. May can hear Andrew in her head, saying it isn't healthy. He wasn't talking about Skye, but he might as well have been.

You should see the other guy sends a mixed message, makes it seem deliberate. May isn't assuming anything, but:]

Coulson said Ward's here.

[hacker]

[ Well, talk about a mood-killer.

Any light in Skye's gaze dims, and she drops her eyes. Talk about topical. It confirms the suspicions she'd start to gather about May—That whoever had been wearing her face wasn't really her. This is May, and she feels guilty for ever buying the substitute. Uncannily insightful, straight-shooter, targeted.

Infuriating and guilt-inducing all at once. Not some kind of moral conflict, but rather, much like a kid who gets caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Which is a horrible metaphor, all history considered, and Skye would like to un-think it. ]

He is. [ Which is stated as flat confirmation that he is, in fact, the other guy. ] … And to be fair, he did technically start it. [ You just have to go back a ways to get to the part where he started it. ]

[busdriver]

You gonna test me every time?

[She wouldn't resent him for it, but she'd prefer to work out a system, so that they won't have to reopen another old chapter whenever she steps out of the room. Between the two of them, she's sure they could come up with a password or a signal.

The tone he's using makes her not want to doubt him, and yet, she can't accept it without resistance. It isn't as though all those names are equally probable.]

Trip. He's alive?

[busdriver]

[On the humor front, May is destined to be a disappointment. He's already heard the extent of her material, something that ought to be obvious, since she's quick to borrow his, and in a style that doesn't suggest a wealth of patience.]

Discreet, huh?

[His effort at a smile isn't reciprocated, but when she turns to look at him, her attention is pressureless; no obvious scrutiny behind it. If she isn't friendly, she isn't unfriendly.] Did you used to? [A beat, then clarification:] See them.

[busdriver]

[May nods, curtly. In her life, periods of restriction or starvation have been largely the product of choice; if not in an immediate sense, then because she could follow the chain of consequence back to her initial decision to do field work for SHIELD. She has every reason to think that she's going to be hungry, but she isn't yet, and it's a bridge she'll cross when she comes to it. In the meantime, she has her own pride, and she acknowledges the basic unfairness in planning for later while others have an immediate need.

She starts to measure out a slice, without any real judgment or expectation. It isn't, consciously and purposefully, a morality test.]

Say when.

[ourlastbesthope]

Capa laughed, leaning against the chains of the swing. He was already exhausted, but the rain and the cold was keeping him coherent. "I was a physicist on a mission to save the sun. I was in a spaceship with a device," he had learned not to use the word 'bomb,' "heading into the sun to try and restart it."

[triplett]

Tactically opening the door at this point seemed like an exercise in futility. It wasn't that Trip thought he was better off dead, he simply didn't see him lucking out and getting out of this nightmare any time soon. Yet he still tried not showing his frustration so easily. He stood in the opened doorway with a casual look until realizing who had knocked. "Agent Barton!"

The name was called excitedly though observing the man made Trip want to wince internally. Apparently it wasn't just Skye who was worse for wear. He decided to follow through with his initial thought. "Man, are you a sight for sore eyes, Sir! Nothing like the company of an Avenger to give a lowly SHIELD agent some hope." The legendary Hawkeye was met with exuberance and a grin to rival that of a preteen meeting Taylor Swift.

He quickly moved out of the door way to let the man in.

[busdriver]

[She greets him with an acknowledging nod, the corners of her mouth curling gently in a small smile. He wouldn't have gotten that reaction if she didn't know him, and if it wasn't the least bit entertaining to picture him ringing the bell without a hope of a response. If he timed it right, he could probably get a tune going.]

You've been here too long.

[He's welcome to treat that like a question, if he wants. She's not one to pry. It's meant to be insincere criticism of how he's passing the time.

To call Clint Barton easily recognizable would be an understatement, although admittedly, he doesn't look his best. His physicality isn't in line with the—fairly distant—memory she has. She wouldn't cross him, anyway. For her part, she's up to fighting shape, and that's as much an indication of her recent arrival as anything else.]

[triplett]

Her response confused him. "Zayoberry? ...I probably just slaughtered that," he concluded with a sheepish look. "Is that not where you're from?" Hopefully he had opened the door for Gamora to explain. Trip was raised between both sides of the states and never felt he really belonged anywhere. Except on Earth. He'd definitely say he was from the planet Earth. One of his favorite things about being a SHIELD agent (second only to beating the bad guys) was the traveling around the world.

He couldn't help but smirk when she called him less offensive than her crew member. He really would have to thank the guy if he ever met him. "I won't worry as long as you promise to let me know if I've said or done something wrong. Which I have a feeling you'll have no problem doing," he said with a playful grin. The expression was meant to be friendly. She had a little insight of his ability to assess a situation. Maybe he was wrong but he doubted it.

If he was wrong, Trip had no problem being corrected. There was little that got under his skin. Unless he was dealing with liars and traitors. He had no compassion for anyone who betrayed his agency or the people he cared about.

[youcantransform]

"Harry, then. Be seeing you."

He inclines his head in farewell, and when she's gone he replaces himself in his chair and picks up his book.

[triplett]

His expression is pensive as Cashmere fills him in yet he easily grins the moment there's a smile on her face. Given the work he did for SHIELD, it was rare someone mistook his kindness for weakness but it had happened a lot to him when younger. He preferred not thinking the worst in situations. Trip wasn't necessarily an optimist but he did firmly believe everyone needed to have hope. Hope made all the difference. And smiles were usually hopeful.

There were evil smiles, of course. He never took those kindly. It was one thing to be mischievous and another to enjoy the misery of others. So far he only saw kindness on her features and actions. Trip had looked a little off guard at her explanation of housekeeping but he quickly recovered and filed away the information in his mind. Everything sounded like the games Hydra had been playing.

"Worlds? Really?" The questions were more rhetorical than anything. He didn't speak with much surprise, more of a confirmation of what she said. With everything he'd been through recently, throwing aliens into the mix wasn't all that shocking. "Where is home? If you don't mind me asking," he uttered gently. The question was personal compared to what he'd asked before so he gave it delicacy.

She looked to be from Earth but he couldn't really pick up on an accent that told him what region.