middleofsomewhere | So Familiar a Gleam: Conclusion

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So Familiar a Gleam: Conclusion

Time to leave!

There is not much of the city left, but the park is holding together as those anchoring help those who are not voidtreckers through back to where they belong. Monsters continue to attack and a little further out there is a battle of hearts and minds being fought with the mass of colours and chaos.

Eventually, after the bulk of citizens had been evacuated everyone with SCA's on would hear Jin-Roh's voice after a few frantic beeps, as Chiff aligned everyone's SCA's. "We are almost done here, if you are with anyone not tethered to a voidcraft get them to the evacuation point, as quickly as possible."

Anan pulls out of the anchoring point to call out to any defenders in the park. "Come on! Anyone who isn't a voidtrecker! It's time to go."

Luckily those off fighting the entity headed the message and made their way to the park as Jin Roh spoke again.

"Everyone else get ready. When we call it you need to leave. If you don't have your SCA on then get to someone who does."

As the last people rushed to the park Anan calls out again, through her SCA and outloud to the park. "You need to unanchor, before you can evacuate. Everyone be ready."

She goes in again though, because there are some last people, those from the large battle, getting through as another message was called.

"Almost there. Be ready. On my command..."

Anan unanchored again. "Quick everyone unanchor."

"NOW" Jin Roh's voice came through strong on their SCA's. Hopefully those with SCA's would grab those without.

There is some outside help as well, the train pulls anyone who is unconscious or still under the entity's control, forcibly evacuating them. This includes Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and Zagreus.

Luggage Carriage

There has been a mass evacuation before and that was crazy enough but since then the population of the train has almost doubled and now it is an extremely tight squeeze as everyone crashes into the luggage carriage at the same time.

The train jerks and rolls as they enter into the void at breakneck speed and again as they seem to slow, rather than speeding off though the void.

There's a crackling from their SCA's. "Voidtreckers? Voidtreckers come in!" Anan's voice. "Please tell me you made it..."

There's only a few moments of signal and soon they are flying though the void again, away from the strange non-world, the entity sealed for now. To new adventures, but first hopefully some time to recover from all that has happened.

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"That you are." Crowley beams, even though that ice cream cone abomination absolutely docks him at least ten points if there's a point system for attractiveness. Either way, Crowley can find beauty in most things, keeping in mind that it's customary for his kind to be covered in maggots and botflies.

"You're welcome by any time." he offers, and he's pretty sure he has before, but until those who are extended an invite actually take a peek into that room, they might not even be aware of what that invite means. Crowley has crafted an entire pocket dimension inside that looks like an old-school British Gentlemen's Club (mostly for Aziraphale’s sake). Yeah, there's a bed in there, but there's also a seating area with a bar cart, a kitchenette, and office space. Alice even has a spot for herself tucked in one corner.

There comes a time when some men are too tired for dignity, and now is that moment for Yondu. But then again it wasn't like he was raised on high quality anything. Just what he needed to keep him strong and healthy enough to fight.

That said, it's been a long time since that and the backslide to I'll eat whatever says something for his state of mind.

"I ain't got anything to do, an' I think I'm set to be awake for a while." Though the only pocket dimensional properties he's been acquainted with have been Flerken maws.

"Aziraphale may have baked something by now..." he muses, staring at the food in Yondu's hand. That might have been a subtle hint there, you know, because that cone smells weird and Crowley’s certain that nothing Aziraphale could have baked, even while exhausted from the mission, could even be half that gross. And if there weren't any fresh baked goods around, well, Crowley could cook alright for a demon that doesn't need to eat, so maybe he could make Yondu an acceptable meal.

"Do you want me to show you where it is?"

He'll admit defeat and get up and take his 'food', if it can be loosely described as that, over to be composted. At least he has something in him, even if he's more at 'ambling' speed rather than 'confident striding' speed at the moment. Colors are still bright behind his eyes every time he closes them.

"Where'd you go after the tv station? I lost track of ya. Things got-"

Things got increasingly broken, is what they did.

It's alright, because Crowley is never really in a rush to get anywhere, himself. He pushes himself up and waits for Yondu before leading him out of the car and toward the room in question, turning back only to answer his question as it trailed off.

"Er-- well, was worried about the kid." he mutters, "How bad did it get? I should have stuck around..."

"Busy. A lotta stuff happened. Raven got in trouble helpin' out Senku so I had to stay away from the house. Ended up goin' out an' doin' more of the 'vigilante' thing." He makes quotes with his fingers, though to be honest he hadn't minded the heroics at all. After decades of performing as a piece of shit, it wasn't so bad to pretend to be a questionable hero.

"Nah, you did the right thing. I wore myself out ferryin' people across the river." Like a self-destructive Charon. In the back of his mind he knows he hadn't even cared if he made it out at that point. But he'd trudged through as normal.

Crowley shakes his head, looking back as he holds the train car doors open for Yondu behind him, "You and Soldat and that vigilante thing." he scoffs teasingly. "I'll never get it."

He gets wanting to help others, he really does, but making such a habit out of it and frequently forgetting to put your own gasmask on first is another level of it entirely. Maybe he's not selfless enough to understand.

"Be careful with that. Can't help anyone else if you're not in good shape, yourself." he says, and then realizes how preachy that sounds and makes a sour face. "Eugh... I mean, well, ah..." he stammers for a second before he recovers, turning back again with the sort of trademark demonic sarcasm one would expect from him, "Wouldn't want to see that pretty face of yours all messed up." he smirks.

"Just a matter of us likin' to have the choice on exactly whose ass to whoop." He says it with a tired smile. "Less for the heroics an' more for the, 'we don't wanna tolerate it no more'. Still kinda pissed off it gave me fake memories to motivate me." Which he'd shared back then, humiliating as they were.

But the smile fades somewhat. He doesn't want to admit he wasn't much in the mood to be careful, but unfortunately he's blue team and that practically writes itself.

"I'll just tell people you was selfish an' would be disappointed without the sound of my whistlin'." So he didn't feel too out of place wishing people well. "I know you can do a whole lot but I did enjoy workin' with ya, by the way." He'd missed team dynamics.

"I suppose..." he shrugs, unsure. He probably could be a lot more help than he is, but Crowley is accustomed to not getting involved in the petty business of humanity. Maybe it is selfish, but after millennia of running around and following orders, he's exhausted and his retirement isn't what he expected it to be.

"Whatever you gotta do." he replies with a smile, shrugging a bit. "I guess I didn't know just how much I could do back there..." Crowley muses, his mouth twisting uncomfortably as he tries to reflect on it. "I didn't want to remember, I think. Not until I talked to you."

He doesn't mind it, to be honest. He's walked out of plenty of situations where his help could be needed. This, of course, after his group left him. It felt like a waste of time and a blemish on a hard reputation to give freely. Usually the best he could manage was talk his crew into thinking it'd benefit them in the long term.

Thankfully he'd taught Peter this knack. But for the most part, he was just as good as them at turning a blind eye. If anything, Crowley was more compassionate than Yondu had been in his worst days.

"Yeah, rememberin' was... I didn't let myself think about it after I remembered. Kept gettin' too mad. But it did feel better when I knew the people what was beside me was real and why they were there."

Edited 2021-08-02 09:08 (UTC)

Crowley nods. There's so much he'd fought for and being under an illusion made that feel so invalid. It was a nice reality, or it would have been if it was actually real, but he understood why Yondu was angry, why anyone would be when it could just take them like that.

"Seems a bit pointless to dwell on it, but I suppose there's an argument that we should be more prepared if it happens again." he sighs, because he hasn't really been taking the train seriously, or the missions, and there's a little bit of guilt in that... but he is so not an action guy. Which is a shame, because he's idolized plenty of them.

As they pass through the train cars, Crowley gets in his head, overcomplicating those sort of what-ifs in his head.

"Nah, I do that shit all the time." Overpreparedness, that is. "I helped stow a bunch of someone's memories-" Soldat's, in his own head at that "-an' it still didn't help as much as it should have." Which was irritating. He didn't get a chance to use those stones he kept around and really goddamn needed. But it occurs to him that he should share his plan with... well, someone. At least part of it.

"I know you an' your angel stay outa stuff, but uh... I mean, y'all know this train is a fugitive. It ain't supposed to be runnin'. An' y'all also know a lotta folks depend on it to be alive, to be free.

"In case we get caught, I've been trying to teach people how to escape shit without usin' powers. But we also gotta find ways to keep 'em talkin' an' keep 'em busy for as long as possible, delay passin' any judgments." Buy time for their asses to be saved. "I figured if it comes down to it, y'all could help talk 'em into excuses to keep 'em busy." He's found a few books on legalities, and kept a few of his own.

And there's always something to be said for making shit up on the fly.

Yondu's plan seems extremely familiar to Crowley, who just prior to skipping through several dimensions, wormed his way out of his own trial. Or, well, sort of. It's a long story.

Crowley squints at Yondu for a moment, thinking before be responds.

"Have we ever..." he hesitates, "Ah, considered fighting back with illusions of our own?" Because it worked for him. It worked for Aziraphale. It helped the two of them escape certain death. Who's to say it wouldn't work here?

"It's just, in my experience, no use talking or making any sort of case for yourself when the accusing party doesn't care to hear it."

"Admittedly I hadn't thought about it 'cause I got fuck all for magic, but that ain't bad. Most of the point for keepin' people talkin' is to give other people time to get their plans up. So what experience ya got?"

Okay, there's a little bit of his energy back, just because he so rarely gets to hear a good heist story anymore. Or a break-out story.

Just, please. Give him a good scenario of being a pest at any point. He'd love to hear it. Even if he is adding 'using your own illusions' to the list of possibilities.

Crowley could stop Yondu in his tracks with the snap of his fingers, put him to sleep, make him tell him his dirtiest secrets... but in the end that wouldn't demonstrate anything. He wouldn't remember, and it may only make him scared. This gives the demon pause.

He exhales loudly, looking around them. There's very little people about the halls, most of them sleeping off the last mission, so Crowley waits until the last person leaves the hall to make a display. Something a little more mundane (for him) and less frightening.

There's a sound, crackling like a healthy fire on wood, and Crowley suddenly seems to be sinking into the ground, at least, that is, at first. A moment later and all that's left is a very large snake, one that slithers forward at the same pace the demon had been walking. It turns it's head back at Yondu, and it's very clear that it would wink in that moment if only snakes had eyelids.

Those likely would (except putting him to sleep, that'd probably impress him, so long as he didn't do anything to him). But the snake thing? Well... shit, he hadn't expected that.

And Yondu's fin lights up and, indeed? Feels like a snake there. Not a person.

"You'd make Skrulls jealous," he says, 'cause damn. "That's a compliment, by the way. An' you're right, that opens up a hell of a lot of options..." He sighs with a heavy, tired smile as he follows. "God I miss just breakin' into shit as a way of livin'." With that level of squirm Crowley could have gotten anywhere. "Sometimes it's the little things."

The crackling begins again, Crowley wishing to transform back to his favorite shape before he forgets how. He shakes one of his legs before walking on it, reacclimating himself with limbs.

"Wouldn’t know what that is." he shrugs, "But I trust your word. I realize not everyone can turn into an animal, but that doesn't mean we couldn't make them look like something else... or make the train look like something else."

Crowley cackles as Yondu reminisces, tipping his head to one side. "Oh, we would have definitely gotten along."

"I think you woulda loved bein' out there. Not necessarily doin' our kinda thing, you're definitely your own guy, but you coulda had peers that were outside y'all's system." On the good side and the bad side of god. It'd be nice to have folks on your skill level that aren't tied into the magnificent fates they gotta put up with.

"Train' lookin' like somethin' else would be difficult but would help. Maybe puttin' some kinda illusion around it."

He really should have discussed it more with magical types, but he also had been trying to be careful putting his ideas out there. There was sometimes an issue with idealists where they'd make mistakes jumping in to do something obscenely noble or brash and just escalating things too quickly.

Happens with cynics, too.

"Come on, tell me somethin' like it you done. You got me all curious now."

Crowley shrugs, "Another lifetime, maybe." he muses. He could have enjoyed the odd job or two on Yondu's team. Crowley himself isn't much of a leader, but it could have been fun.

"Not necessarily..." he thinks. "It doesn't have to be drastic. I mean, the existence of one train like this suggests the existence of others... right? And this one's gone rogue, but the others aren't considered dangerous?" He's guessing here, not quite up to date on the lore of this vehicle. "Anyway, couldn't we make it look legitimate? I dunno. Whatever wouldn't make the authorities bat an eyelash."

Something like it he's done... Crowley hisses under his breath. He'd done something rather significant that not only saved his life, but kept him and Aziraphale protected. If anyone ever found out...

He's quiet for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets. Inside of them is the little piece of metal that Yondu had given him, and his finger slides over it to remind himself that this is a person he can trust, no matter what.

"Yeah... It's a long story, but I guess we have a bit of a walk." he replies finally. "So... back home, Aziraphale and I were blamed by our respective home offices for things not... uh, going as planned. We could have anticipated retaliation, of course, but there was this propecy that sort of, I dunno, suggested we get a bit creative. Aziraphale figured it out... obsessed with prophets, that one, and he's very clever." Crowley tries not to look too wistful when speaking about the angel. "Anyway, we disguised ourselves as one another. That way, our known weaknesses were quite the opposite, scaring them off."

With all the lifetimes they see here, he sometimes wishes that he could have seen one. He also knows knowing people isn't completely unlikely.

He knows that there are transgates now, but he's in that state where he's in one of those places where he's mentally tired. Taking the stairs is less energy-consuming than the elevator sort of mindset. And he generally likes the conversation.

"And they knew ya had this ability but were pretty convinced by it?" Maybe they just hadn't realized how good a terms the two were on? "Not that I'm doubtin' ya, just real impressed ya slide that one under their radar." And just the two of 'em behind it, huh?

Makes the whole illusion thing a much more viable option in a sticky situation. "So they just think y'all suddenly had gotten over your weaknesses an' was beyond punishin'?"

"Right, but that's not the point." He shakes his head, a hand resurfacing to emphasize it, "The point is, if we're really being chased, fighting isn't the only option. Uhhhh... okay, here's another example."

Crowley could probably be called a connoisseur of certain types of film. Anything with heists, secret agents, cool characters that oozed charm. He'd only filled the gas tank of his car once in all the time he'd owned it, and it was just to get his hands on the James Bond gunshot stickers that came free with purchase. Yondu probably wouldn't understand any of this, but it's worth a try.

"We just need diversions. Like... in a car chase in the movies, when it speeds out of view and returns to the road with a fresh paint job." he tries, "It might do nothing but stall but it'll at least give us more time to think of something better."

"I completely agree. We... unfortunately, got a lotta people that will choose 'fight' first. Not that they're bad folks. But yeah, I think hidin' an' runnin' is a valid strategy."

Which sounds cowardly, but there's value in fighting another day, or acknowledging what fights aren't worth it. "Probably better if we don't look like threats for as long as possible."

But then he adds a, "I've done shit like that, you know. Trade-offs, switchin' ships, hidin' in plain sight. Of course when it came I'm a little unique so I was usually the guy that was the distraction while the other folks did their thing."

"It's not just hiding and running. It's a game of chess. It's working smarter, not harder." he shrugs. "They'll still get their fights... patience."

Crowley smiles, because he knew Yondu would get it. He's bright and crafty, it's why they get along. "Or you were the only one who could pull it off." he shrugs. "I just wonder, if they only thing our 'enemies' have to fight us with are illusions and memories, maybe they're a lot weaker than we think. Either way we need to know a lot more about them than we do now. They know too much about us."

"Sometimes I figure its harder to talk 'em out of one."

The worst part is one day that might need to be the distraction. "I should tell you how I got freed sometime."

But, still, it's nice to reminisce. "I honestly think we made up ever'thin' ourselves. I don't reckon it fully knew. It just gave us the power to build it out of what we knew, if that made sense. 'Cause some folks at the end could actually change the settin' themselves, if they was inclined to do it. It might not know as much as we've been figurin'."

"I guess." he shrugs, sighing. "Mmh-- we're almost there." Just a few more cars.

"If you're comfortable. Love a good story." he responds. Crowley is genuinely curious about Yondu's past, but knows as much as the next person how it can be troublesome to recount old memories. "Ahh- Could be. Alice started a bit toward the end, too." he notes, "But I think they were memories."

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