metaverses | Network | Slade Wilson

Network | Slade Wilson — Ryslig CRAU

Display Name: Cellist
Profile Photo: Nope.
Notes: N/A

( So, someone's not in Kansas anymore. That's fine. Slade Wilson can adapt. Maybe he's out of that godforsaken penisula once and for all, and he didn't even have to sell his soul to the Fog God, or the Fourth God, or whatever other cultist bullshit they were all espousing — himself included at times.

He doesn't have anyone's personal contacts anymore, and the ones he's memorized don't seem to be responding, so the public network seems like the way to go. )

Defiance: touch base.

Arrived in Central City.
Had to neutralize one of the locals.

( Sir, this is a Wendy's?? )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Cellist. That is a handle Angela has not seen for some time. But it is one she remembers, from the peninsula.

She's learned a lot, since her time in Ryslig, about internet etiquette. It helps when you have two internet-savvy brothers to teach you how to use a cell phone. So, when she responds to Slade's message, it is in a locked feed, away from any prying eyes. ]

Slade Wilson.
Defiance is not here. Nor is Lighthouse, or the Fog and the Fourth.

When did you arrive?

[ Slade, meanwhile, is fairly certain he'd seen Angela in the past week. Had she been a part of the photoshoot? Slade hadn't been present for it, but he keeps tabs on most people who come in and out of his headquarters. ]

Angela.

[ Should he be proud of her newfound technological literacy? Absolutely. He values privacy. She gets a gold star for knowing how to DM. ]

Good.

[ No Fog God, no problem.
Now, more pressingly: ]

Where is here?

Another nexus place. An alternate version of Earth, which takes people from their homes, or wherever they were before. I was pulled here from the peninsula five months ago.

[ She knows that time can be strange, given that her brother is here from two separate points in his own timeline. ]

We do not know who is behind the Confluences that bring us here. There is no unifying factor, like the Fog is to Ryslig.

Those who are brought here by Confluences are known as metahumans. Native sentiment towards metas has grown sour these past months.

[ Probably shouldn't have killed somebody, huh. Speaking of... ]

You did not eat the local whom you killed, did you?

[ Another one. A home that isn't home. A little closer than before, from the looks of it. This place has cell phones. It's not teaming with monsters, either. It makes Slade feel out of place—hard to be subtle with wings, and horns, and a halo.

He's going to need to invest in a hat. ]

Right.

[ Speaking of that poor, soulless sap. ]

Wasn't gonna waste him.

Would you?

[ Not only is he asking if Angela has the cajones to kill a man and scarf down his soul in broad daylight, but if she has the need to. ]

[ Well, that answers that question. ]

No. Not anymore. This place has deemed fit to free me from the Fog's curse, save for when the moon is full or new.

[ She's actually somewhat surprised that the same hasn't happened for Slade. What could this mean? ]

What does the moon have to do with anything?

[ He's taking notes. ]

I do not know the correlation. I am a minotaur, not a werewolf or werebear. The moon should not have any effect on me.

And yet, it does.

What effect does it have, Angela?

A transformation, from monster form to not, back and forth.

Each time just as painful as the first, but all at once.

[ Slade remembers his first weeks of monster puberty, when horns cracked through his skull and eyes tore through his skin without warning. He doesn't envy her. ]

It cycles.

[ There's a chance he won't have to leave on corpses and seafood if that's the case. ]

With the moon, yes. And every time there is significant fog.

[ Her body changed a total of five times, while in Ryslig. The number of times she has transformed here far outnumbers that. But, it is a small price to pay for freedom from the incessant hunger. ]

How long have you been here?

Few hours, if that.

[ The Fog follows. ]

I saw you.

You saw me?

[ So much for her attempts to go unnoticed. ]

Where?

[ Nah, her cover is still intact. ]

Back there.

Said you been here for months. I saw you a few days ago.

We talked.

[ Ah. Interesting. ]

That can happen. Confluences do not move linearly, in time.

One of my siblings is here, from years in my past. We arrived at the same time. Another sibling arrived before us, concurrent in time to myself, save my time spent on the peninsula.

[ He reads what she's sending, but all he can consider, really, is that there's a chance that Grant can arrive here, the same way he could have arrived in Ryslig. He never did, but another of his kids did. ]

Big family.

You have no idea.

[ She isn't sure how to explain the fact that she has three versions of one brother and two of another present in this reality. ]

Who else is here? Other monsters?

[ Are his kids here? ]

None that I have found. There is only us.

We're the chosen ones.

Us?

Improbable, yes.

There is no rhyme or reason, that we can tell. My sibling was trying to map all the worlds and realities people are pulled from, but he has found no pattern.