First Entrance

[stark_spangled]

He'd been to visit Peggy when he got the call from Director Fury to check in. He was making it a routine, every Tuesday afternoon when he wasn't on a mission. Then it became every Tuesday afternoon and every Saturday morning. It's funny how long it took him to work up the nerve to see her, and now it's all he can do to stay away. She's still his best gal.

He parks his bike in his usual spot in the underground garage next to the Triskelion, shoulders the bag with his gear in it, and starts walking to the elevators. He's wondering what kind of mission Fury's sending him on this time when the sun catches his eyes ... wait, where's that coming from?

He blinks hard, and when he opens his eyes ... this is not the elevator. This isn't the garage, heck, this isn't even D.C. He's in a room, some kind of restaurant or bar. People are milling about, some in uniform and others in civvies, and outside the windows ... jeepers, that's a lot of stars.

His hand tightens on the strap of his bag and he plants his feet shoulder's width apart, jaw set. He isn't sure what kind of trick this is, but if he doesn't get answers soon he's going to start demanding them.


[ooc: Hello! Steve is pre-Winter Soldier, but only just, and he has entered the room in civvies. Slacks, button-up, leather jacket, boots, his usual affair. His cowl is in the bag, along with his shield and a few other things, but by all accounts he looks like an average guy. Well, an average tall, strong guy. Any takers welcome!]

Comments

I couldn't not.

[abyssum_invocat]

Steve might remember, if he thinks back, what Johann Schmidt's mask looked like. The human mas he wore--figuratively and literally speaking.

There's a child, maybe seven or eight, standing in front of the eerily still stars, who looks frighteningly like the man. And it's Steve's bad luck that she's just zeroed in on him to talk to. (He looks mildly familiar. He should understand, out of everyone, the need to see the familiar.)

"Do you know where we are?" she asks with what will become a familiar utter lack of preamble.

I'm glad you didn't not! Uh. :D

[stark_spangled]

His fist clutches the strap a little tighter for half a second, body stiff when he turns to locate the voice. Her face is a little startling, but he can't put a finger on why. It's familiar in a way that makes him relax, just slightly. She's just a normal-looking little girl.

"I wish I could say I do, kiddo," he says, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Are you OK?"

XD We're good.

[abyssum_invocat]

Normal-looking, yes. Not normal in reality.

But that's something she's still not entirely comfortable displaying--probably for the better, that. At least until she knows what's what around here. "I'm alright," Sinthia murmurs. Well, she's not hurt in any way someone could see, at least.

"Does anyone know where we are?" she asks, exterior calm cracking enough to show her discomfort at being snatched away from where she belonged.

[stark_spangled]

Steve hesitates. Who would take a child away from their parents? He could understand it if someone was trying to get to him, even if the means are beyond his understanding right now, but a little girl? His anger melts and cools a little.

"Hey, it's okay," he says, crouching to get on her level. "You can stick with me, and we'll find out together. OK?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"Okay," she says, actually glad--if only she knew what word to put to that feeling--to have someone stick around.

Without being paid to. "Okay." She takes a second to gather herself, calming. "I'm Sinthia."

[immafrog]

There were a lot of stars, indeed. And none Adam recognized. He was sitting by said window, still trying to process this whole thing. He had found Billy and met Andros, who was also a Ranger. Zordon never told them about other Power Rangers, although he didn't blame his mentor for that. Why be distracted when they had more important things to worry about?

Still, actually been on a spaceship now? It was hardly what Adam thought would ever happen to him. No matter what hardships his friends went through, no matter their power, he never thought he would ever be in space like this. Traveling it like this. This was one of those times he wished his spirit animal was something a bit more courageous.

With a soft sigh, he left the window to see if there was just about anyone else he could recognize. But there were none, just a few people in similar garb as his to signal they too were from Earth.

[stark_spangled]

As Adam passes through the room, a hand reaches out and grabs his arm. It isn't rough, but there's definite strength in the grip.

"'Scuse me," Steve says. "Do you know where we are or how I got here?"

His brow is beetled. He doesn't look happy, not by any stretch, but he isn't going to snap at the kid. Not unless he gives him reason to.

[immafrog]

Instinctively, Adam yanked his arm out of the grip that had him, although he didn't miss the words spoken to him. But he couldn't help himself going into a bit of a defensive stance. He relaxed as soon as he saw it was a civilian, a rather strong one at that. He was probably taller than Tommy!

Adam shrugged, shaking his head. "'bout as lost as you, man." He looked around, should he go try and find Billy again or keep talking?

[stark_spangled]

Adam surprises him. He holds up his hands to show he isn't a threat, though he keeps that action-ready stance. It was his fault, he can admit that.

"Thanks," he says darkly. "I guess you wouldn't happen to know who's in charge, either."

[immafrog]

"No, that's what me and a friend are trying to figure out," He replied. "I think a lot of people here are in the same boat, honestly."

He gave Steve a bit of an apologetic shrug and even a small smile. "...sorry, I'm Adam."

[tased_lightning]

Darcy has a tumbler of something lemon-y (it has a mint leaf in it!), because when life gives you dream Star Trek bars, you damn well get dream Star Trek cocktails (which taste surprisingly like normal cocktails. Disappointing!).

... and Captain America?

Darcy glances back down at herself, and is disappointed to find that she's still in her pajamas (well, a big fuzzy sweater and the jeans she was wearing during the day. And slipper socks! Sometimes being prepared to move is the comfiest pajamas of all). She takes a fortifying sip of her lemon-y drink.

"Sooo," she says, as she sidles into his vicinity. She glances at him from the corner of her eye. "You are Steve Rogers, right? Not, like, an alien double?"

[stark_spangled]

Steve's head whips around, brow deeply rucked and jaw firmly set. The last thing he expected was someone recognizing him. No, what he expected was a group of highly-trained soldiers recognizing him, not ... well, one of the most innocuous figures he's ever seen. She looks suspicious, and curious, and ... soft. That is a very fuzzy sweater. But one thing she doesn't look is dangerous.

"I'm sorry, ma'am? 'Alien double'?" he says, voice gruffer than he intends for it to be. He casts another look around. "That's what this is? Some alien ship?"

[tased_lightning]

"Oh," Darcy wiggles the fingers of her right hand at him in greeting, mouth quirking up. "So you are him. He is you. You follow me. All alien doubles are currently hypothetical, but aliens in general are not."

She considers him for a moment, and something in her back straightens slightly. This is probably a dream, but he sure isn't acting like it is. "This is a space ship, but it's only alien in the most general sense. Guy at the bar told me it's called the USS Enterprise, which is what I kind of figured but it never hurts to check. It's based out of California. It's the 24th century, if you take her word for it. And I kind of am, right now, because I don't know why he'd lie about it. People might lie to you about that sort of thing, but I'm just an intern. A... science intern. Assistant."

Not that Jane is actually doing any science right now. She considers this, and doesn't revise her self-description.

[stark_spangled]

He frowns. He's having no trouble keeping up with her explanation, it just happens to raise more questions than it answers.

"United States Navy?" he asks, reevaluating the uniformed officers he sees scattered around the room. He knows the name Enterprise, and it's heavily steeped in American history. It's not the aircraft carrier that springs to mind first, but if this is the 24th century, then maybe the name has been rechristened for a ...

Spaceship.

"A science intern," he repeats, swiveling to face her. "From the 24th century. On a spaceship called the Enterprise. Why do I get the feeling I should have watched those sci-fi movies my partner suggested?"

[tased_lightning]

"Because your partner is right," Darcy says. "Anyway, no, I'm not from the 24th century, I'm from the plain old 21st. Yay, 2013. Darcy Lewis," she says, sticking her free hand out. "Former SHIELD assistant to Agent Coulson, but my workplace kinda fell into the ground pretty much right after they sent me off to babysit an astrophysicist. She studies, uh -- well, travelling between worlds, to be honest."

Darcy considers this. She should probably be taking notes.

"You have seen Star Wars, right?"

[decideformyself]

Philip is pacing through the lounge with his nose unwisely buried in the book he's carrying. He moves his free hand in midair, making little squiggly motions like he's writing something down. He may not have anything to write on at the moment, but it's a habit.

Unfortunately, it's pretty unwise to wander through a crowded room without looking where you're going. He bumps right into Steve.

[stark_spangled]

Steve can appreciate the need for pencil and paper. Sometimes, when he gets nervous, he'll flex and move his fingers like he's holding a good #4 (2H pencil), filling in the details of his latest drawing. He always does it at hip level, where other people are less likely to notice it.

What he can't always appreciate, on the other hand, is people jostling him. Particularly when he's already on high alert. He tenses and whirls on Philip, bag quickly discarded (but still within reach), and fists held up. He relaxes slightly when he sees the perpetrator. "Sorry."

[decideformyself]

Philip was just walking, so why are his legs suddenly not moving? He looks up in confusion, blinking when he sees the huge guy standing in front of him.

Ah, that would explain it.

"It's not a problem," he replies simply. "Have you also been displaced?"

[stark_spangled]

OK, definitely not a threat. He straightens up, letting his hands fall back to his sides.

"Uh, yeah," he says, looking around the room. "Yeah, you could say that. I definitely have no idea where I am."

It's not an admission he likes making. Ever.

[decideformyself]

"I see." Finally closing his book, Philip rubs at his chin curiously. "There seems to be no real link between the many people who were brought here. No connection, no overarching similarities. It's quite mysterious."

[mirabile_mireille]

Demanding answers isn't all that useful when the people they are being demanded of don't know any more than the person doing the asking, unfortunately.

But here's a woman who's had a lot of practice at smoothing situations over. She likes calm, she likes peaceful, she doesn't like seeing people agitated. There's a whole lot of agitation going on in here right now, and she can't fix all of it, not all at once.

But maybe one at a time.

"They say we're in space," she offers quietly.

[stark_spangled]

The voice is much softer than anything Steve had been expecting. He figures this has to be some kind of enemy trick. It's been two years since the trenches and the barbed wire mud fields of Europe, give or take seventy more, but when you do the kind of job Steve does, those are things you never forget. Reactions you can never turn off. He's expecting enemy voices, the sound of a trigger, heavy boots. Not soft, pretty voices.

It's no surprise, then, when he turns a stunned expression on the woman who spoke. She's beautiful, could pass for a dame back home. Not DC, but home. 1943. Brooklyn. Could be a trick, but he's going to listen to what the lady has to say. "Space. How far from Earth?"

[mirabile_mireille]

"I don't know," she admits. "I don't... I don't understand the people who are from here. They have numbers and coordinates, but that doesn't tell me how far--all I know is that the stars are all wrong."

It bothers her. She ought to be able to recognize the two that were Weyland's eyes, at least. She feels like she's letting him down, but maybe those stars are in a different place in the sky. Maybe they're off a side of the ship she can't see through these windows. Maybe they're so far away that their light doesn't carry. Maybe things taken from their proper context have no meaning anymore.

There's a sobering thought.

[stark_spangled]

No familiar constellations, huh? That's not good, but Steve's dealt with worse. Where they are comes second to who did this, and once they figure that out the rest should fall into place.

"Hey, take it easy, ma'am," he says, turning to face her completely. "It's OK. I'm Captain Steve Rogers, I'll make sure everyone here stays safe. Where are you from?"

[mirabile_mireille]

That's a much easier question.

Well, she hasn't been on her own long enough to handle situations like this well. Breaking things into much smaller pieces makes them easier.

"Minnesota," she says. "We came in from Galveston, but I live--I lived in St. Paul. Mireille Adler."