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Intro Post

Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

It's happening again. All around town. Maybe it's in the cereal aisle of the general store while no mothers with squalling children are traversing it. Maybe it's in the middle of the town's lonely graveyard, full of hundred-year-old graves in the middle of the night. Maybe in the local city hall restroom, eyes opening to a gaze-full of toilet paper, or in the town's settler museum full of wagon wheels and old farming paraphernalia.

There are still a few government workers milling around since the first influx. People in bland suits of various shades of grays and browns, nothing particularly impressive, but if they approach someone who doesn't seem to belong they'll bring them through the intake process. Though there's a chance that, instead, they'll meet a kindly marshall. Average middle-class white guy, a tall Midwesterner with some scruff and a formal uniform and a stocky build. He will discretely move them through if it's needed, make sure they have an ID and paperwork and phone and some concealing clothes if they have the body type that works for it. If they look special or like someone the government might want, he'll try to keep things on the down-low for them.

Better than to lose people again.

Getting Familiarized

When investigating the town, they'll find it with trace damage from the night before. Someone is replacing a door that has ax-marks in it. Another is rebuilding a fence, a crashed car ready to be towed away. And yet another person is filing an insurance claim with his agent, his shed completely burned down and the air closeby filled with the scent of settled smoke.

Most of the residents of Carlyle are friendly. If you stop and ask for directions, they'll give them. It's also a time of year in which there are lots of outsiders, on top of current events. Unfortunately, if anyone's dressed in an entirely unfamiliar way, someone might over-react. They may excitedly run to get one of the agents, or they might scream about it happening again, or they might be absolutely delighted and want pictures so they can go viral on FaceBook.

There's a cafe in town where there's are a slew of reporters, talking about post-Vesanalia clean-up and the lost arrivals. At first, someone who wanders in might be mistaken for another reporter, there to order coffee or jam microphones at the management outside. But someone might be smart. A towns-person might notice something off, a familiarity in their gaze, or might hear them say something suspicious. The next thing they know, those reporters are turning their microphones towards the newcomer.

Settling In

Someone might need somewhere to sleep. Well, there's a nice little hotel where it's free. There's probably government surveillance if you care about that sort of thing. Otherwise, your rest will go undisturbed and have the average conveniences of a mediocre bed, a Febreeze smelling duvet, a somewhat new TV, and bathroom with a tile pattern installed in the 80s. One could try a barn, but there's a chance they'll be run out by an angry man in honest to god overalls and an unironic cowboy hat with a pitchfork. They could also try to sleep in a vehicle. Let's just hope the owner doesn't come checking before morning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Crawford does seem easy to overlook, at least at first. Blindingly average has been kind of an advantage here.

Hank decides to check out the hotel, scope it out carefully and make sure that it would be a place where Connor could stay safely without being outed for what he actually is. Hank is only beyond average (not above average) in that he's broad-shouldered, a little unkempt, and accidentally intimidating with a rumbling voice that has the firm impression of metal clanking down a deep well when he speaks. Words that climb up from the depths of his chest.

"Hell of a night." He says to Joe Random Guy, looking at the hotel he'd been given an address too.

"You know anything about this place?" The hotel, he means. But the open-endedness is intentional. He can say how much he does or doesn't know.

In a few days he'd probably see it as the advantage it was, but for now he simply found it a bother. He was in a strange place and confused but he could work with it. Hearing the voice he looked up, seeing the older man Crawford managed a light smile.

"You could say that, yes." He spoke a little soft, like someone who worried about being to loud, he had a bit of new England tone in his voice but not a lot. His hazel eyes moved over the man before he looked back at the hotel.

"This place is apparently a free place for those of us that got pulled here, I thought I was the only one but the nice agent who found me told me otherwise." He had also been told to keep his head down but Crawford was still in a small bit of shock so it was harder said than done.

"Yeah, you're not the only one." Hank sticks his hands in his pockets and shifts uncomfortably. Well, must be a lot harder for someone that could pass as a librarian. But for now, he doesn't mention Connor. He'll be cagey about him for as long as he can.

"Still, not a lot of options for food. Until we get some money. So I guess we should get settled in or something."

Hank crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside where Crawford is sitting. "This might be kind of a fucked up question, but uh... When are you from? You from around this time?"

"Its both good and disheartening to hear. People being pulled from different places for some strange reason." He spoke in return. Poor Connor, things would be hard for the plastic man. Aside from being a little dated, Crawford would get by mostly easy, at least he hoped so.

"I was thinking about that. I need to figure something out." He could live off some ramen... but well, need money for ramen.

He reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "After today, that's not such a bad question." He replied, almost sweetly. "I am from the past it seems, almost thirty two years. It was 1986 for me, I was in Arkham, Massachusetts. How about you?"

"Yeah, kind of."

Connor's identity as an android is something Hank intends to protect for as long as he can. His partner's life could be in danger. Well, when is the fucker's life not in danger? Let's be real here.

"Seems like the corporate guys might want to hire us for stuff. But don't fuckin' trust the corporate guys." He's careful about mentioning distrust for the government guys, but that lingers too. He has a feeling they're being watched.

"...Wait, you're from 1986? Fucking seriously?" Then his gaze jerks away, staring off into a snow-covered middle distance.

"Shit. I was one-year-old then." And he is damn well obviously not that age now.

If Crawford found out, he wouldn't be on to tell. A real working android? No that shit is cool. You protect that.

"I don't really either, I don't intend to get put in the loony bin again." He saw no reason to lie, more so if this dude, this clearly older dude was a year old when he was twenty four. SHit. How old... no he'd be dead by then. In truth, he was probably already dead.

"Seriously, here." He pulled his wallet out, pulling his ID he had hidden as best he could out from home and holding it over. It was set to expire in a few months... In July of 86. "I'm Crawford." He offered after a second.

"Wait, 'again'?" Hank asks, eyes shifting to and fro.

Is he crazy? He already went through the 'dead' thought. Maybe crazy, though. This feels crazy.

"Yeah, I'm Hank." He offers his hand to the crazy-person-named-Crawford, while looking at the ID with the other. Yup, that sure is an 80s ID. Even lacking all the embedded bullshit in the plastic to keep them legit.

He hands it back

Crawford waved a hand, in a 'don't worry' motion. Making sure he held his hand out enough for Hank to see. "I was a suspect in a stupid case, the police didn't buy the truth at first so they put me under evaluation until I was proved innocent." He didn't really have that axe murderer vibe.

Crawford shook Hank's hand, a strong professional grip before taking the card back and slipping it away. "Nice to meet you Hank. I would ask what the future is like but I feel like the sci-fi I watched as a kid would have me to high of hopes."

"If you're wondering, we did end up with all this Star Trek shit-" he holds up his phone. "And then some. No flying cars, cars that drive themselves. Smart vacuum cleaners. Still with the giant mega corporations- Trust me, after Raegan, you're never gonna want to vote for anyone again. Save for a few people everyone is shit.

"At least, that's how stuff played out for me. Everything here feels a little... wrong." He makes a so so motion with his hand. Like the sports teams are still there, but that Star Trek he just mentioned? Not a thing.

"I had hoped so, so much cool stuff came from Trek. And what a bright future I have to look forward to." He spoke a little deflated but not completely sad, just dejected at best. "Kind of always knew the world was heading to shit though." He added after a second.

He would be a little sad to not get to see Star Trek here, but it would be a reason to seek the man out again He slipped off the wall and nodded, standing at all of five foot seven, he pushed a hand through his messy hair looking out at the city. "But I agree, something feels very off here. I wish I could wrap my mind around it."

Little guy. Shorter than him, anyway.

"World went to plenty of shit, but maybe that was in the eye of the beholder, though." He holds his tongue on androids. Being that he's here with one, he's not ready to mention they exist. It's his protective nature, the need to defend the very last thing he has left in this idiotic world.

Or... his... idiotic world.

How the hell does this work again?

"Mankind has some bad habits it can't good rid of easy but it's still got its good points, too." Those bad points nearly did him in, though.

He's used to that, at least.

"I'm guessing your a glass half empty guy, huh?" He asked without any real judging. Honestly it was nice to have someone saying how they feel. Not that he knows it, but the human gummy-bear would and will pose no threat to the android. Maybe one day, but not now.

"It's human nature, the good and bad are meant to balance but they never do. Even science cant solve that one." He spoke with the slightest amused noise.

"More like the glass is mostly empty kind of guy." But he's been trying to fill it back up? Fuckin' weird way to put shit.

"So... That said, you trust this situation?" Because Hank can't, not completely, but he knows he's at a distinct disadvantage.

"Did the glass get knocked over, or simply dried out?" Crawford asked, with a slight tip of his head, folding his fingers together, which oddly made an already timid looking man look more timid.

"Not at all, no, but I have little choice. This... isn't the weirdest thing I have had to deal with yet. So, I suppose I am waiting to see if they kill us in our sleep, which would be counter productive after putting us in the system... or if they will just be watching. Nothing is truly ever free after all."

"Complicated." He says, because it feels like more detail than he's ready for. But rather than the true personal note that inspires those feelings, he just shrugs.

"I was a cop back home. I had been for years. No fucking clue what they're going to want from me here. At least they're not experimenting on us."

Or whatever happened to the first batch.

"Life's truest answer." He replied with a shrug. Everyone's complicated, and he wouldn't push. God knows thanks to Edward his life's complicated as hell.

He nodded some. "I was wondering about that, if maybe we all had useful skills. A cop could have his uses, more so if you were more on the detective side of it." He spoke with a shrug. "I'm just a physicist, I'm not sure what they would want with me. I worry about that to, that maybe they will but their waiting, a healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anyone, I guess."

"It's probably like that with scientists, huh? You're booted into the future and now you got shit like the Higgs Boson thing to work your way up through."

Not that Hank knows more than the name and the irrational panic of black holes it caused. Like, what the hell does one do with an accidental black hole? Might as well just worry about the things you can actually stop.

But back to the point, twenty years worth of shit is a lot to catch up on.

"Stuff seems kind of the same as it was for me. Just a little off, but the same enough for me to say with the current shit-headed administration if you plaster a political opinion on anything one side or the other will eat it up."

"...Did they ever confirm it?" He had to ask, his hazel eyes seeming a little more green as he looked almost excited to ask. He had always been one to beleive the Higgs Boson had to be true, it filled the gap, while others still didn't buy it. That said he gave a slight chuckle. "I guess I am a little outdated, and I just finished college last year." He added almost self-deprecatingly.

Granted, graduating from Miskatonic, didn't say a lot to most, even if he had been top of his class.

"I've always been a fan of, it's not one's business, no reason to talk about politics and such. It's helped me out a bit." He admitted.

"I think so. All I remember is that the Earth wasn't destroyed while they were looking for it." Small favors, right?

"I accidentally landed myself a potential job by saying too much." Connor had needed to change the records in the system, add himself in discretely, so Hank had walked into the local police station and declared he was a cop from the future and had valuable information that could save people.

"Some guy representing Youtube Red or whatever came out and offered me a chance for me and my partner to make a series. I don't know if I'll do it yet." Probably. "But we need the money." And right now he's in a miserable state of broke ass poor.

"You would be surprised how many times our kind of work causes issues like that." He spoke, a note of fresh fear in his tone, everything with the resonator was just to fresh and he hoped he never again saw what lies in the beyond.

"Really?" Maybe no one approached him because he did easily blended in. Granted he looked confused as Hank spoke on. "What is Youtube Red?" Oh to be from the days of the internet's infancy. He had no idea just how much the world was going to blow his mind.

"Something like Starsky and Hutch, or Miami Vice?" He asked looking a little more pleased at that before nodding. "Yes, I have to look into work myself soon. Being broke isn't idea."

"More like Cops. I can't remember if that was out, then. Youtube was a thing where people would post their own videos. Then they started a subscription service. Then they went out of business when the movie streaming services started offering individual uploads."

But that distance in the guy's face at the mention of a destroyed Earth is a little nerve-racking. "You alright?"

"...I've never heard of a show called cops so, probably not." He was two years and some change ahead of cops. He nodded some. "So basically anyone could be a celebrity? That sounds amazing."

He wondered if he would actually live to see that happen in real time. Sadly, probably not.

He shook his head some. "Honestly, no. Some crazy stuff happened before I came here... it's been a crazy week."

"Here crazy or your place crazy? Because I knew about the here crazy?" He chooses that route rather than undertaking the arduous task of explaining one of America's first documentary type shows.

He doesn't fuckin' think he's the TV type, but some asshole seemed really keen on it and he needs the money. So why not.

"About the same as both I would think. But, I did mean back home. I was assisting... a friend." he paused to think of how to explain not that Hank asked what the crazy was, but it was weighing on him. "We made a machine to expand the pineal gland... and it did far to much, that machine was evil." He visablly shuttered when he said it, crossing his arms as if cold despite the layers he wore.

"So... like I said, crazy."

"Evil?" He asks out loud, perplexed. Because what the hell? How can a machine be evil? A machine is just a machine, right, and even if he on some level doesn't get along with them, the idea of one being evil baffles him.

Also in a way, it makes him even more protective of his partner. It causes a pang of worry to run right through him. Which is stupid because this sounds like fucking medical equipment, not this other person he's become dedicated to.

Intro Post

Welcome to Carlyle...

Waking Up

Getting Familiarized

Settling In

Settling In

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