text; @trevor.belmont

[doesitanyway]

Greetings, fellow Displaced. I'm Trevor Belmont, and I have a slightly different type of inquiry than the sort I've been seeing 'posted' on here so far.

I haven't found a library or similar resource, and am struggling with learning relevant information using the network alone. Not facts about our situation, but about this strange future we've found ourselves in. Most people here seem to be from far further along than I am, enough to work the facilities and use a very different vocabulary to mine... I suppose I'm wondering if anyone has the time and inclination to be a tutor, of sorts? Just to explain some of this technology and catch me up on relevant terms and events from the past millennium or so, hopefully enough that I can stop turning every conversation I have into a game of a thousand questions. Folks have been fairly understanding, but it's not ideal.

My only request is that anyone who responds not treat me as a fool or a child. I'm fresh out of the past, not a crib.

I've no way to pay you, yet, but hopefully we can work something out. And I do thank you in advance for your consideration.

Comments

[requiemshark]

[ It must suck to feel so completely off balance, to have no context for the majority of the surrounding world. He sympathizes, in a vague sort of way. But it also helps to have allies, and Trevor is a strong fighter. Staying on his good side will serve the mission in the long run. ]

Might be easier to do this in person. But the big thing would be the neural implants. How to send messages, get paid, gather information. Things like that.

[doesitanyway]

Of course. Always good to see a friendly face, as well... I've gotten some help with messages and posting, but the information gathering is still beyond me.

And pay, that'd be good to know. I do see that little counter ticking down what they gave us to start with.

Are you in the Safehouse right now?

[requiemshark]

No, but I can be there in about 20 minutes. Just finished up a fight.

[doesitanyway]

I'll be here, then, no sense meeting halfway only to loop back. Unless of course, you didn't win and need a hand.

[ Even in text it's pretty clear how unlikely Trevor thinks that is. ]

Action

[requiemshark]

I'm good.

[ He shows up just as promised, looking a little worse for wear. There's a cut slashing across his good eye that's been stitched, and he's moving carefully around bruised ribs. But the bruises are at least a few days old, not from the latest fight, and he's in a good mood when sees Trevor.

He tosses him a bottle, in the meantime. ]

Here. Got it with my winnings. It's not tequila, but it kicks like a motherfucker.

[doesitanyway]

[ Trevor is hanging around outside, mostly waiting but also getting some fresh air and space from the other Displaced. He isn't used to being around so many people, not really. The city itself is overwhelming but fascinating, and he hopes he'll be better equipped to navigate it soon.

When Ephemera arrives and tosses him a bottle he catches it easily, turning it in his hand to look at the label with a broad smile. ]

You're proving to be quite a friend already, Ephemera. What is tequila, and is your eye alright?

[ It's difficult for him to not open the bottle and try it right now, honestly. ]

[requiemshark]

I do try, [ he drawls, putting his hands on his hips. It's a casual looking gesture, but one that keeps his hands close to his weapons in case it goes wrong. He's less worried about Trevor than the people on the street, who have a tendency to come up in his blindspot like it's nothing. ] Another kind of alcohol. Best thing for doing shots. Apparently they don't sell it much around here.

[ Angela explained that to him. Shortage of agave.

He waves his hand vaguely at his eye, dismissive. ]

I'll live. Some fucker got me with his ring, that's all.

[doesitanyway]

They don't seem to have a great many things we're accustomed to. But thank you. This'll make things more bearable for certain, and you're welcome to drink with me.

[ He lifts the bottle and dips his head, then reaches for the door to reenter the Safehouse. ]

There was no one in the sitting room earlier, if you'd like to grab some glasses and head there. [ He takes another, closer look at Ephemera's wound as the other man passes him holding the door. ] They don't make you remove such items? Anything could be a weapon, or is that part of the sport?

[requiemshark]

You're supposed to.

[ Ephemera flashes Trevor a grin as he steps inside, going to find glasses. He doesn't mind when the fights get rough. It keeps him sharp, ready for the real thing. ]

Doesn't stop people from coming in with mods, or whatever else they can get away with. I'll explain those too, if you want.

[ He ducks into the kitchen to fetch glasses. ]

[doesitanyway]

Yes, mods?

[ Another word he's never heard, that piques his interest as it's apparently relevant to a fight. ]

[requiemshark]

Modifications.

[ He returns with glasses and takes a seat that gives him a full view of the exits, and the least chance of anyone sneaking up on his bad side. ]

A surgeon will cut into you, install tech that'll make you stronger, faster, a better fighter. Got them back home too, but they go wrong a lot of the time. Not as much here, apparently.

[doesitanyway]

[ Trevor seems to deliberate something, then opens the bottle and claims the seat on Ephemera's bad side at a safe distance. Making sure he's still in view, but keeping anyone else from coming up too close on that side. The liquor splashes into the glasses, sound familiar and comforting. ]

Is that what's been done to us here? My fairy lights, your art.

[requiemshark]

[ He gives Trevor a sharp look, but relaxes marginally when he realizes Trevor isn't deliberately sitting in his blindspot; rather the opposite. It's a courtesy. Not a kindness, no — he cannot think that way around these people — but a consideration. He nods just once and takes a glass. Tips it back and drinks.

It burns like whiskey. Good. ]

Yeah.

[ He frowns, running a hand through his hair, and then sets his glass down so he can start undoing his hand wraps. ]

I've never heard of anything this advanced back home, though, and I've seen some weird shit.

[doesitanyway]

[ The looks gets a smile from Trevor as it softens, as Ephemera realizes what he meant by taking that position. He raises his glass in a tiny toast and sips it, pleased by the burn. ]

Very nice. The liquor, not the human experimentation, of course.

[ But now he's curious. ]

What kind of weird shit?

[requiemshark]

[ He returns the gesture, and drinks again. It's been years since he's had alcohol and he's been falling back into the habit of it here. There are nights when it gets him to sleep when nothing else will, and that's as close to a kindness as he feels like allowing. ]

Planet killers. An AI that showed people their worst nightmares to see if they were a true warrior.

[ They've already talked about the alien thing. Though not too many details. Sharkface hums to himself. ]

The Sangheili had swords made out of pure energy. Cauterized every wound they made, if they didn't get you straight in half.

[doesitanyway]

What are AI? They sound mystical.

[ He recognizes the name of the aliens, though, and comprehends the rest of the statements. The energy swords get a low whistle. ]

Quite a blade, then. How does one make a sword out of energy, if not by magic... electricity?

[requiemshark]

They're machines, created to help with tasks. Entirely digital. Some of them were like people. Had personalities.

[ He never used one himself, but he's seen the aftermath. He takes another drink, dark thoughts churning, and tries to push it aside. ]

Similar principal. They have a power source that generate and shape the blade when it's activated. Went through our armor like butter.

[doesitanyway]

...entirely digital? Intangible, then, how do they function? I don't understand where the information actually is, on the network here.

[ Trevor lets out a low whistle at the blade cutting through armor like butter, shaking his head. ]

Quite a blade indeed.

Have you ever used anything like that?

[requiemshark]

[ Sharkface leans back in his chair a bit, considering how best to explain. ]

Tech isn't my area, but....think of it like language. You can write a word down on paper and make a sign, or you can speak it, and cause another person to act. When information is digital, that means it's broken into code and then decoded at the access point. Intangible, but the impact is real.

[ He exhales slowly. The metaphor might have gotten away from him a bit there. ]

Energy swords? No. I had a hardlight shield, though. Similar principal to the sword, except the design was defensive. Saved my ass more than a few times.

[doesitanyway]

[ That's... mostly understandable? Trevor can figure it out based on context, at least, and nods. He doesn't understand how it's transferred and translated, but knows that it is and that's really all he needs to know. Even if they let the Displaced work with the more complex, secure tech here, Trevor has no interest in going into such a field. He needs to do something more practical and he knows it. ]

A shield? Fascinating... what metal would you say it was comparable to?

[requiemshark]

They're not really comparable to metal. [ He sits up. This he can talk about. ] They're lighter, for one thing. Three pounds, max. But they take power to maintain. Older models crapped out after a couple shots. Newer ones just keep going and going.

[ He misses that thing. Would've been useful here. ]

[doesitanyway]

Oh? And what sort of weapons can they stand up to?

[requiemshark]

Just about anything that's not concussive, or using excessive heat.

[ It's a hell of a tool, but there are ways around it. Sharkface nods, remembering. ]

The shield will hold up against just about anything. Swallowed a shot from a fifty calibre rifle like it was nothing. That's a bullet this size.

[ He holds up his fingers to demonstrate. ]

Shot like that would've blown someone's head clean off if they weren't wearing armor. Fucked up their day even if they were. Shield can take it just fine, but if you don't brace right it'll knock you off balance.

[ And nothing good ever happens when you get knocked to the ground. ]

[doesitanyway]

[ Trevor blinks, astounded by a bullet that could take someone's head off. It's large, yes, but. Geez. ]

That sounds absolutely brutal -- the weaponry developed in your time. It's good you have such defenses as well, but I can only imagine the carnage in battle.

[requiemshark]

[ He shrugs. Takes another drink. ]

It gets ugly. But it can get ugly when people go at each other with knives, too.

[ These days he's fairly convinced that it's human nature for people to go at each other with as much brutality as they can muster. Just how it goes. ]

The scale changed, though. I think that's the big difference from your time. If I had a good rifle, I could kill a man a thousand feet away. If I had a missile, I could do it from a different planet.