outsiderslogs | intro log

who. everyone!
what. entering omega.
where. landing pads
when. today
warnings. none for now

You’re not sure how it happened.

A minute ago, you had somewhere to go, someplace to be. Maybe something important to do, or maybe you were just going out to buy groceries. Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re in some kind of transport -- a shuttle, given the turbulence and the sounds outside. You’re surrounded by strangers, some of whom might not even be the same species you are. There’s no point in asking. They don’t know how they got here either. The cockpit’s blocked off, like someone forgot to put in a door, and not even a glance at your omni-tool -- a holographic interface accessible by merely tapping the sensor on your left arm -- is any help.

You’ve only got a minute or so before the shuttle starts descending. There aren’t any windows -- this doesn’t look like a shuttle meant for long trips. When it finally touches down, the doors open automatically.

Before you are landing pads, abandoned equipment scattered about. There are other shuttles landing, and whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to get off before yours dumps you out the door. Turn around, and you’re met with a hazy skyline, only half the buildings seem to be coming from above.

Welcome to Omega.

ooc notes
You’re free to expand past the landing area, but please start all threads here. Please remember that your character will not have housing until Aria makes a post granting it; it’ll be on

outsiders and linked here when it goes up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Why would I want to see a picture of Cuba? [It takes America a moment before he realizes that's not exactly the point.] Look, just 'cause you have a bunch of pictures of some girls doesn't mean they're England and France and Russia.

Anyway, Russia has sisters. I think they're his sisters, anyway.

[The picture of the girl Madeline was claiming was America is interesting, though. The jacket looks near-identical to his, except maybe a bit smaller, but she doesn't have glasses or anything.]

I--no. [Frustration is building and she shoves her wallet at him, hands on her hips now. She doesn't want to have to prove her own identity. She doesn't want to deal with this on top of the aliens and strange place and this whole thing. She wants to have a cup of coffee and a pile of pancakes and change into some pajamas.

She wants to be home. But she can't let him see how close to panicking or bursting into tears she is in this situation.]

Look at this and tell me who I am.

[America takes the wallet just because it's shoved at him, though he isn't really sure what she expects out of him. He can't just look through a lady's wallet. He does at least look down at the various cards--identification and that sort of thing--

Then he checks the ID again. On the third check he pulls the card out and looks it over, because she can't be Canada, he knows Canada, so this has to be a fake, right?]

[She just keeps her hands on her hips and stares him down. She's not letting this get any further.] Well, Mister America?

Well, it's not like-- [America isn't actually sure what he was going to say to refute this, simply talking with the expectation he'd fill in the blanks when he got there, so he stops and instead pulls out his own wallet, letting it hang open to display his own ID.]

It's not like I'm lying!

[She gives his identification a look. It seems to be in order--She almost expected that. Really, she sort of did at this point. What should she say now. What could she possibly say]

...I'm not sure what to do now then.

[America hands her wallet and ID back over to her while he puts his own away again.]

Well are you from Bizarro-Canada? Like-- [He pauses, to consider what Bizarro-Canada would be like.] Does everyone know who you are?

Everyone knows who Iam--Bizzaro Canada?! [She crosses her arms now. The look she has is bordering on attempting to bore a hole through his head with her mind alone.] I'm Canada. I am above America who has been a girl her whole life. We met when France gave me away to England, and she pulled my braids and we pushed each other in the mud a lot. I'm fairly sure your Canada can not be that be different.

Well you're kinda similar, I guess? You both have polar bears. And you have like--that weird Canadian polite attitude thing. [Which might explain to Canada why America had looked a bit hopeful upon seeing Kuma and then let down when it wasn't the right one.] But my Canada's always been a guy and he didn't wear braids.

[Hair-pulling had happened, but punching was a bit more likely (and Canada had always fought back enough to make him totally deserving of it okay).]

...Well I don't know what to tell you. I'm Canada. And we aren't going to get any farther this way.

There's gotta be an explanation, though. [America circled around Canada, now, curious.] I'd know if there was another America and Canada so it's not like we can be from the same place.

I know, but what explanation do you have?

...pardon, is there a reason you're circling me?

I'm figuring this out! [That should be obvious, right? Eventually he stops in front of her again.] Okay, I've got it:

Alternate universes!

...Alternate...Universes?

intro log

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