Scene #7330: Calibration After Dark

Owner	Pose
Ein	The 'you' that experiences the universe, the consciousness that normally sits behind the eyes with which the world is viewed, the third eye exists in a dreamlike state. It is familiar in its simplicity: like a cutscene or a vision. Black void. The sound of papers shuffling. The friction of stone against stone. A crackling like a bonfire, and the smell of savory wood ash. "The last survey was the most interesting, yet." Crackles the bonfire. "Your theory on the absence of rules was unique." Grinds the stone. "What do you want to do next? Deserted island? I've wanted to try the beach. Aren't beach fires a thing?" Crackles the bonfire. The grinding stone pauses. All is silent. Then, with a sigh of friction, the rocks reply: "No." The fire snaps and pops oddly. "I'm pretty sure beach fires are a thing, buddy." "Next we do the spy." The stones assert heavily. "The man? He's a thug with a gun. We've done dozens of them. You've etched the plates." The fire rolls uncertainly. "Not the man. What made the man. The circumstance." The rocks tumble with finality. The fire sputters for a few moments. Then, with a resurgence. "I've got an idea for a survey. We'll have to use older content, though." The dream gains color with the clacking of stones gaining the character of train wheels on track -- kalak-kerchack kalak-kerchack kalak-kerchack
Ein	Paper shuffling again. Weapon experts know a precise set of delicate screw-and-spring sounds and metal-against-metal greased slides and clicks are - a pistol's assembling. It feels familiar to the hands, a tactile hypnosis. White flakes tumble through the air, a swirl banishing the dark. Yellow light is hidden behind miserable grey clouds that halo existance in a pallate of monochrome, broken by browns of dirt and forest spikes of foliage. Traintracks, friction-cleaned of rust by the beating heart of industry and dappled white and blue by frost are broken by the chugging smoke-belching of the engine car steaming away. The awareness tracks and pans across the train, broad on the track with wood panelling over sturdy-worn steel frame. Back and back and back through cars thinly filled with lit windows of private cars and cabin cars that mill about with the shapes of humanoids. All the way at the back is a cabin car that the awareness settles around, orbiting before entering through a window. You are there, reading a file that your awareness isn't aware of, then simultaneously closing and raising an identical match from identical otherwise-empty hotel matchbooks and lighting the papers on fire, disposing of the evidence in the ashtray. The ash tray is now quite full, as a useless aside. There does not seem to be a fire alarm in the car. You are yourselves, again, just as each of you draw a Walther PPK from concealment somewhere on your person, check the magazine, chamber a single round, and gain control. A voice comes on over the loudspeaker. It's the deliberate radio announcer voice from previous Calibrations! Passenger-Participants, please be aware that a special Survey is now taking place. You are 'agents' sent by a state enforcement group to accomplish -- ah, the details are a bit too vague to make out." The voice coughs apologetically. "Please do whatever comes naturally to state agents and I'm sure it will work out. Isn't this exciting? I've customized the appropriate Interaction Objects for portability for this Survey. Thank you for such good inputs." The Interaction Object, this time, appears to be a GUN.
Hesinca	Hesinca immediately takes the gun, points it at the closest window, and pulls the trigger. There's no hesitation.
Ein	With a loud BANG, the window now has a BULLET HOLE in it! It cracks badly, but it's thick weatherproofed glass. It does cause an unholy racket, though.
Gawain	Well, that was trippy. Mysterious cutscene, check. The 'voices' of the calibrators, check. Now they're in a spy movie! Check! Gawain, once he has full control of his body, listens to the announcer, nods, and then smiles. "So this one's less about 'what we would do', and more of a spy movie. Got it! That should be fun!" He checks over the pistol, but does not pull the trigger. Instead... "What are you doing?" As the glass makes a loud noise, Gawain winces. "We're agents! That's how you give us away!" He waits to see if anyone's entering the room, before moving to the door, cracking it open, and glancing out to see if anyone's coming. Yes, Gawain is LARPing a spy, because he never really gets the chance to be 'not him'. It's fun!
Hamada Haru	Hamada Haru is perplexed by what is going on, but he goes with it as readily as if he encountered it daily. Sometimes you just have to go with these things to get out of them. // [...] Please do whatever comes naturally [...] // What comes before and after is ignored. Haru unloads the gun and stows it on his person. It feels unnatural in his hands, so he doesn't want it there. He moves with Gawain to check the door, wordless, breathing deliberately slowed.
James Bond	Bond is here. He's dressed more or less like any normal passenger on one of these trains would be, tending slightly towards the wealthier end of the spectrum. 'Do whatever comes naturally to state agents.' There are a few things. Subtlety is one. That may have gone out the window with Hesinca's bullet. "He's right," says Bond, for all the good he imagines it will do. There's a shoulder holster hidden under his jacket. That would be why, each previous time he's been here, his jackets have appeared weighed-down by something in the pocket. It's there to keep the garment from getting in the way, when he reaches for the weapon. Each time, the weight has been something inconspicuous. Something easily explained away. In this case, a candy bar. In his experience, they don't always come. But it doesn't do to leave things to chance. He's doing what comes naturally, when something gives his position away. Bond opens the window on his side of the cabin. He grasps the railing above his head, lifting himself up and vaulting out to the exterior. His body dangling over speeding earth below, he demonstrates formidable upper body strength in reversing his grip--his hands now clutch the exterior of the train. He pulls himself up to the top of the car. Keeping his profile low to avoid making too much noise in the interior, and to keep from getting hit by oncoming obstacles, the spy crawls across the top of the car, making his way to the next. Upon reaching the next connector, he waits--waits for sign of anyone crossing between cars. If there's no one, he slides off of the roof and lands on his feet, pausing to straighten the lapels of his jacket before crossing into the next car. If he'd already been given a gun, then the mission would be finding someone on the train and exfiltrating them--the gun would be insurance.
Ein	Gawain's opening of the door reveals the rest of the private cabin car's rooms - and as his wonderful golden gorillaboy locks peek out into the hallway, it reveals three more private cabins with little false electric-but-it-looks-like-an-oil-lamp lamps next to the door. The across cabin rests open. It is clean and ready for passengers. The across-diagonal cabin car's door is adjar, and the outside can be heard from past the door as a distant 'KALAK-KACHAK' rattling. You know this because of the bullet hole in your own window. Convenient! The room, and the door, of the 'next door' cabin isn't visible from YOUR PRIVATE CAR. There is a closed train car door that advances you to the CARRIAGE CAR.
Hesinca	Hesinca looks immensely satsified at this, and holsters the gun. "What, I needed to check that it was loaded and working," says Hesinca. "I mean..." "Imagine if they gave us fake guns. We'd be helpless if anything happened," adds the ten foot armored demon with a straight face. "Besides, besides, I've been at, what, four of these so far? If they hand me a gun and say 'do what comes naturally' they KNOW what they're getting in return."
Tamamo	Tamamo no Mae, bunrei of Amaterasu-omikami, She of the White-Gold Face, reader of Fate, who does more than 'peer' through time, is used to knowing things other do not, and being unable to explain how she knows them. Yes, the resulting scenario is not so strange, if one spoke only of the raw result. But the mechanism, now, is wholly novel. Nothing she before experienced had followed the pattern of 'placing her within a movie,' and 'the fact of movies' reaches less than a year into her memory. Even then, it is an inadequate description. She's aware of the automatic action as 'hers,' yet lacks the knowledge of why it occurred. How very curious. "Was that vision more than my own?" Once in control of this iteration of 'herself,' Tamamo turns the gun about in her hand, entirely failing to practice trigger discipline in the process. If it hadn't already been in her hand, it's unclear if she'd even know how to pick it up. "And so we find ourselves..." She glances around at those assembled, "...together, once more. 'To act as state agents,' is it? How does such a person act?" Gawain seems to have some idea of what this means, so she focuses on him for potential instruction.
Hamada Haru	"If your first instinct upon being handed a fork is to stick it in an electric outlet," Haru replies to Hesinca, "it is still neither the stupidity or responsibility of the person handing you the fork that leads to the act of electrocuting yourself. You are not a toddler. Conducting yourself as one does not make you as culpable as one." He pushes past Gawain into the next car, heading away from where they started at a pace that would suggest somebody unusually calm but sensible enough to move away from a gunshot.
Cantio	This is certainly different. There's something oddly nostalgic about the train despite Cantio never riding on one. Or at least, never riding on one like that before. Maybe she saw it in a movie? Or maybe she just heard about movies that used these sorts of props to instill a distinct feeling of oldness. The suit, too. She's wearing a suit that actually doesn't feel too bad to move around in compared to her usual fare. Her hair's tied up in a bun, presumably to look more professional with the suit and slacks, and she ignites the file precisely from the bottom corner so none of it is at risk of landing on the floor and setting off a fire alarm. She's kind of alarmed at how natural this all feels even before she regains control and inspects the gun. She spends a while inspecting the gun, not for any sort of weird mechanisms, but just to marvel at the construction of the thing. She could probably replicate this if she really tried. "Lady Hesinca's a wild card, sir. We'll just have to improvise." Keeping the loaded gun held behind her back, Cantio follows Gawain's and Haru's leads as she steps over to the side of the door. If either of them look her way, they can easily see Cantio trembling lightly trying to suppress excitement. It's just like in the movies. She watches Bond briefly as he goes out through another window, then peers through the open door and breathes a sigh of relief as nobody comes knocking. She heads through the open doorway, still holding that pistol behind her (with proper trigger discipline, even) as she approaches the door to the CARRIAGE. She finally stows the gun away, then gestures at the sides of the door to signal potential cover spots. She waits a couple of moments to give the interior group a chance to find cover, then opens the door and heads right on in with all the poise and swagger she can muster in that suit. She just needs to act natural like she belongs there.
Gawain	As Haru pushes past him, Gawain proceeds. He extends his hearing, moving to check if there's sounds of People in the other rooms, as he stows away his gun, straightens his suit, and talks to Tamamo as he follows Haru from a distance, trying to make them not look like they're together. "Well, an agent is subtle and stealthy, pretending to be something other than they are. They're cool, calm, collected, willing to kill the bad guys in a fast moment, but only if they HAVE to! They're suave, charismatic, and manipulative - all in service of their government. But they have a good heart, and care about their nation, otherwise they wouldn't do the work!" Yep, Gawain absolutely got his impression from spy comedies.
Lilian Rook	"What the hell is wrong with you?" Lilian intones Hesinca's way, not in a shocked and yelling way, but in the kind that dips and rises before the end. "Furthermore, even without a gun, I could put half of you in the ground before anyone had time to blink. I'll be fine." She turns over the PPK a few times. "This thing is practically a fashion accessory. Cordite charges on copper cores; World War one called and they want it back." She hefts it up and down just a little. "At least that feels like a steel slide and chamber." Then, she uncharacteristically relents, saying "Admittedly, it is sort of their own fault for making the controller a gun this time. Whoever or whatever those two are. I'd been imagining a man behind a curtain so far, like an alien awkwardly stuffed into a secret service suit. Now I have to think about the Thirteenth." This is a spy thriller type of deal. There is absolutely no way that Lilian is not dressed as the obligatory femme fatale who shoots the brash yet sophisticated protagonist in the back at the midpoint climax. It can only be exactly that look, albeit without so much absurd movie makeup. But her first instinct is to gently remove the gun from Tamamo's hands. "Please don't hurt yourself." she says in the least condescending tones she can manage, leaving out 'or anyone else'. "That would depend on the aims of the state, but usually it involves not being placed as an agent of said state by everyone around. Then it makes the state's business rather unsubtle." Then when Haru exits into the next car, Lilian is Also There. Somehow. "Who are you?" she asks. "Usually, everyone has to introduce themselves at the start of these things. I've never seen you before, and the host hasn't asked for your name."
Ein	JAMES: Leave out the window. James opens the window, a bracing blast of cold English air filling the cabin as he mantles the railing and flips out the window. From on the side of the car, there is a disheartening lack of open windows - to be expected, with the weather the way it is - but James has never backed down from a bit of train-parkour, has he? Distantly, carried on the wind, a fraternally warm professional smarm brushes his ear: "Always going right out the window, Double-Oh Seven? It's no fun." A man that isn't him replies using all his words with a different throat. It's a gunsmoke laugh, a short bark and then a long chuff after. "If someone's on the roof with me, then I don't have to think about shooting back at them." The wind whips the words away, but not the odd feeling in James' throat. The feeling in his breath that those were his words. That he had been here. With someone. But he's absolutely certain he wasn't. Those climbing up the top of the traincar hear those words carried down to them, as well -- but to others, it sounds like James is having a conversation with a second party that they are privy to.
Hamada Haru	"Hamada Haru, Tokyo Metro Rider Services." Haru replies to Lilian. There's a moment where he reflexively reaches for an ID badge of some kind, but he stops abruptly because he realizes that it's not really the place for that sort of clear identification. Also, probably not in a context where it's a totally coherent ID anyway. He's not used to infiltration without the aid of some sort of nonsense superpower, but he's not totally unaware of what's expected.
Hesinca	Hesinca doesn't go out of the window. (She wouldn't fit anyway.) She remains in the train and just proceeds up along with the rest of the group, for now.
Tamamo	Tamamo nods along to Gawain's explanation. There's now one person moving after having shot a window, and another head out a different window, and with this newfound knowledge, Tamamo can determine that the latter is more likely to have been state agent-esque. Still, she's not going to wander out a window without a good reason. Moving to another room is what doors are for, isn't it? After a moment's thought, Tamamo extends both arms, and a cloth-flumping sound is all that accompanies her change of attire, swapping out to what is authentically English ladies winter-wear, too high quality for 'subtle and stealthy,' doing nothing to cover her ears, and from something closer to retro-2060 than movie-accurate 1960, but she appears totally satisfied with the hat-and-coat disguise. Lilian has taken her gun, but that is probably fine. "Why, of course not," is her response, clearly not understanding the issue, but perfectly willing to let it slide. Having little else to do in being left behind, Tamamo naturally makes her way forward, after the others, through the ordinary route of doors. The windows are left be. Whether she can still ``interact`` without her controller is unclear. Perhaps she can find a new, less dangerous interactable device.
Ein	The CARRIAGE CAR is confronted, as is the UNINSPECTED ROOM. These prompt two different responses, as well as the answer to a specific question: Why didn't they go through the problem of naming people today? The announcer-voice speaks up: "Attention Passenger-participants: This survery has a special set of rules. Attention Double-O Agents - You have been granted a liscense to kill, and the world rests on your quick decisions. However, in matters of life and death, you only have 'one shot'. Therefore, as today you are all James Bond, there is no need to adjust the rules, merely limit the input to one man's choice." "The first Interaction in a question will be taken as difinitive, but spend that person's interaction opinion. You have all the time to debate, but once a trigger is pulled, it cannot be unpulled or changed. That is the law of black powder and hard men." There was no need for complicated interactions: This seems to be very directly a deeper examination of a previous Participant.
Ein	The UNINSPECTED ROOM hangs open, and has a trio of items hanging in the air like powerups: Survey #1 - A proper state agent picks the proper tools for the job. The Letter of Weapons provides a choice of supplies to proper state agents. Which did you recieve?" There are three objects floating: * A ROCKET LAUNCHER * A LASER WATCH * A SILENCER FOR YOUR GUN
Lilian Rook	"A professional, then." is Lilian's take on Haru, evidently inferring through context of English loanwords that 'rider' is some kind of unit name and not literally a metro train rider. Her eyes instantly flick to his hand movement. It's not as if he'd need to hide a gun, so she must recognize it for what it is. "That's a pleasant change, though I can't speak for how well a Tokyo man will handle this." He probably doesn't miss that 'man' is pronounced with a semi-audible question mark, erring on the side of assuming older than younger. She then visibly grimaces at the explanation of the new, specific rules. "With Bond himself involved, that makes three. Tamamo is generally reliable, so I'll count her as three and a half. Gawain is . . . in the spirit of things, so let's say three and three quarters. This should work out." Then Lilian INSTANTLY moves to block Hesinca from getting anywhere near a fucking rocket launcher.
Chase	The two mysterious NPCs talking about god knows what doesn't seem to bother Chase. He's used to being around two eccentric people having weird conversations after all. The thing that causes actual alarm is the sudden change in scenery. Scenery that they can only assume comes from a Spy movie. He's never watched one, so he can only assume everything happening is par for the course. >>>Do what comes naturally. Once he's finally in full control of his body, he takes a moment to look over the pistol. He pushes the muzzle against the palm of his hand out of habit, but the lack of any give from the gun or confirmation noises just disappoint him. It's just a GUN. With everyone leaving and the commotion that has caused, it's to safe assume that leaving the room is the dangerous route. Spies are supposed to minimize conflict, as far as they're aware, so with that in mind, they aim for the window, opening it up to leave. "What are you doing up here?" It's a question that could probably be pointed at him as well, but that thought doesn't cross his mind when he asks it. What does cross is his mind is to have his gun pointed forward at Bond. He's not going to shoot, but given this is a spy scenario, he's going to play it safe through intimidation until he can confirm he's not in danger.
Hamada Haru	"I'm a junior agent, but yes. A professional." Haru says. He does in fact pick up on Lilian's confusion over his age, clarifying, "Not a minor, but can't legally drink." It doesn't seem to bother him, though. Haru doesn't seem overly concerned with presenting himself as more adult than he actually is. When they arrive in the next room, a choice is presented. Wheedling occurs immediately. Hamada Haru draws his unloaded INTERACTION OBJECT (gun) and points it at the laser watch, pulling the trigger symbolically. "I am using my decision. We will be using the laser watch." He declares, coolly.
Hesinca	Hesinca looks over at Lilian as she's blocked from getting her 'interaction' gun out. "So first, thank you, someone finally gets what I'm about," says the demon. "I swear, if people keep acting surprised that I act like a demon, then I don't know what the heck is wrong." "Though second..." She glances over at Hamada as he makes the decision. "Nah, nevermind second."
Ein	THE CARRIAGE CAR, however, simultaneous to the small challenge about the Letter of Weapons, is far larger on the inside than the outside. To either side of the ampitheatre-like train car's interior are passengers patiently staring out the window or drinking tea or reading the paper or sleeping or doing whatever nothing. In the center, however, is a half-circle of tape banks and retro console devices is two video screens, at either end. The video screen to the left shows a massive death laser pointed off into the distance powering up visibly. The video screen to the right shows a damsel in distress being lowered into a vat of acid by a chain, slowly. On the other side of the train car, a man in a theatre mask and a suit jacket laughs heartily. "Too late, dog of the crown! You only have enough time to activate the emergency shutoff for my weather control device, OR save your pretty little lover-girl! And you'll NEVER catch ME!" The figure snarls before the door shuts behind him. Certainly, he can be expected to follow. However, that leaves... Survey #2: The Spy Who Loved Me, or Doctor: No!
Tamamo	Tamamo is no longer holding a gun, and doesn't see a need for a rocket launcher. But then, as she looks into the other room, she doesn't see a need for a laser watch, either. Rather, she's unsure of the specifics of the functions of a laser-equipped watch. Thus, she asks. "And for what purpose was this artifact designed?"
Gawain	Gawain debates the first challenge. Haru makes the choice! Okay. That's a good choice, he's relieved. As they reach the second choice, he considers it, then immediately pulls the trigger to save the lover-girl. "Weather machine can be shut down another time! We can't replace our love!" Yes, he says that straight-faced.
Cantio	So far, so good. Quarrel over shots and the chosen device aside, Cantio does't have too much to worry about just yet as the carriage car looks fairly normal. Familiar-looking devices, consoles, screens... This is her element. The stuff on the screen, not so much. She waffles over the choice, still keeping her gun holstered even as she seems to be looking more towards the screen to the left. Alas, she's nowhere near fast enough on the draw or in decisiveness to even get her gun back out before Gawain makes his decision. There's a small sigh of... Something. It's not clear if it's relief or exasperation. "I'll trust your judgment on this, then."
Hesinca	"Okay, so this second choice-" Hesinca gets cut off. "Oh, well, nevermind." She looks over at Lilian as her proffered deal is turned down. "Fair enough, then. I offered." "... So do we get to go take over the weather machine for ourselves, or...?"
James Bond	Bond touches his throat. It... was him, but it wasn't. He's been here, but he hasn't. It's more... what? Deception? Insight? It's more of whatever it is this un-place does. But the other voice knows him. Or it knows his designation. This is... this is something the last 007 did. Which would make that other voice his partner. He's never had a partner. Always worked alone. That other man's name isn't coming to him. But... if he tries, he might be able to call a face to mind. The last 007's partner. Blonde. Some kind of Eastern European heritage, at some point down the family line. That face was right before the last 007's, in the KIA files, just a distant, neutral expression captured in an instant; nothing to that man but the suggestion of personhood, as is the case with every face in those files. He may as well play along. His hand reaches for the door into the next car, but stops upon hearing the prompt. So, that's how they knew him. The previous 007 was a participant in this place. So far, he hasn't told M about this place... it's drawn too many questions. Questions that she'd entertain, in the moment they were asked, in her own way. But after, eyes would be on him. He'd have less freedom. Less control. >What are you doing up here? Bond turns around. For a moment... there's nothing in his eyes but the cold regard of a predator, calculating--it's gone. He recognizes Chase from the previous car, though he still has his hands up. "I'm James Bond," he explains. "I'm him outside of this place, too." Every so often, he looks behind him, to make sure there's no obstacles coming. "Normally, they don't give you the gun until you're meant to use it. If we've got them on a train, it means we're meant to find someone or something aboard it. I'm going to back to looking for it now. Come on." Still with his hands up, he turns around and enters the CARRIAGE CAR. He enters into the next car. He knows exactly what he'd do... if this were the situation in the waking world. He'd turn off the laser. But this is a place where he can make his own choices, without them affecting anything in the waking world. What would he do, if he had the option? Spite. Bond breaks into a sprint, running past the challenge presented to find the man who built the laser. Why is it, always, that he has to choose between happiness and the crown? Why does he never get the option to spit in the eye of his enemy, to deny him the happiness he'll never have? That's what he's going to do, now. Because he can. Because in every other circumstance, he'd turn off that laser and fight back the tears. Let the damned thing go off. If he has to suffer, so does this other bastard.
Lilian Rook	"I suppose you're welcome." Lilian replies, audibly bitter at not being half as perplexed as she should be. "Good enough." is what she says to Haru for the time being. To Tamamo "Theoretically, to be an extremely stealthy weapon or utility tool. In reality, to be flashy and impressive. But I suppose this setup isn't exactly realistic, is it?" <J-IC-Scene> Hesinca says, "You know what..." <J-IC-Scene> Hesinca says, "I'll make you a deal, Lilian." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "What deal?" <J-IC-Scene> Hesinca says, "Neither of us use our decider shots." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "And why would you want to make that deal?" <J-IC-Scene> Hesinca says, "To see if you'll take it." <J-IC-Scene> Hesinca says, "We both know I'm gonna just pick one of these and decide on it. I'm pretty sure you can't stop me, at least not for long enough for any discussion to occur. I want to see if you care enough to give up YOUR shot." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Tempting, but no deal." "Not what I'd have chosen, but rules are rules. 'The world of black powder' and all. Even though this is past the invention of smokeless." she says. "I'll keep saving mine." She doesn't seem to be in a tremendous hurry while chasing the villain of the situation; if he were capable of escaping forever if they moved too slowly to the next question, it'd be a very poor Calibration.
Tamamo	Lilian explains the reality of spy gadgets to Tamamo. They continue on to the next car. Gawain makes a choice. "Between a lover and a mystery, neither result will be so certain in the future. Should the villain not have made clear the threat as to where the 'the weather control device' had been aimed, or is it that the season's fashion is for the more vague and insubstantial boasts? is it the effect of specificity that is to be measured in this question?" Though she has a lot of questions as she walks through the surprisingly large passenger carriage, Tamamo doesn't seem personally bothered by them. She picks up an untouched drink from a table, leaving a smile in exchange, and continues with the glass raised, though not, in fact, drinking from it.
Ein	The Laser Watch being picked causes an odd ripple in things. Certainly, Haru made a choice that a well informed young man would: that clearly a laser watch is a 'spy fiction' toy, an appropriate tool for a state agent, but-- It's wrong. A false test, because there's something expected here. It felt, first to Haru but the trigger makes it a dread that washes over everyone: something Unexpected happened. Something heartwrenching, something out of the norm. The stomach-bottom dropping out of knowing very clearly that there is a distortion now. A social rule, an unspoken understanding knowingly broken. The train rattles. Upholstery flickers between period-accurate and EuroTrak modernity. The story rumbles-- James bursts through the Carriage Car with Survey #2 in it, coming from above to drop on top of the masked villain. First his knee connects with shoulder and collar, and then a hammerblow to the skull. The door's window reveals the beating coming in soundless blows for those coming from the Cabin Car. The beating comes in stero audio instead, a feeling on the knuckles of all the Participants. "M-Me?! Not the lahzer!?" Howls the villain, but he sounds more vaguely Austrian-German now than the Calibration scrubbing of the past buckles. James doesn't need to try to beat this man, to drive his fist into the shattered mask and kiss his knuckles to the jaw of the bastard underneath him. In movies, in books, they gasp more than that. They get a whole monologue out. They speak, through the beating, explaining their plan. 007 didn't have any time for it. The mission, the partner, the girl. This one had gotten away before. This one had run this play before. This one had to pay and to hell with Queen and Country. This was for James. The anger, sheer emotional whammy of the same faces holding a gun to the temple of the world over and over because the violence was not enough. The rules, the boundings dragged like barbed wire across the chest. Distantly for the 'real' James Bond, and directly for the rest of the party, a frantic voice shouts. "Double-Oh Seven! Damn it, man, the override! We need to hit the override!" Panels come off the bank of old tape computers and computational machinery. Wires splice as if ghosts were disarming a bomb before their very eyes. "I just need a minute for the override--" Voices echo from the Private Cabin Car's direction. Distant gunfire and shouting.
Hamada Haru	"The scenario is most likely colored by the choice," Haru explains to Lilian, "I did not want a scenario where the primary focus would be either the firearm or the rocket-propelled grenade. Additionally, while I believe that I grasped the first decision well, this scenario's overall concept runs against my grain." "Kamen Riders protect people. That is not the role of a secret agent." When they pass to the next chamber, and the next scenario is presented, Haru nods towards Tamamo, "For instance, my decision in this scenario would be suboptimal by most big picture measurements." Pointing towards the woman, he continues, "It isn't that she is supposed to be 'our lover', but that she is the one that is right here to be saved. Though it is perhaps not the correct decision, it is the decision that a Kamen Rider would make."
Gawain	Well, before Gawain can pull the trigger, Things Happen. Things go to crap, Bond's going to the villain, and- This was real, once, wasn't it? Bond's making a different choice from the reality. He's making his own choice. That's a good thing, isn't it? How can he help? Gawain blurs with super-speed, trying to get to the cabin-car with Bond. He holds the gun he was about to fire to his side. "Mr. Bond! You're making the right choice! Let me help you!" This stopped being a Calibration when everything went wrong, to Gawain. And Bond getting to save the day is more important than the Calibration, honestly.
Chase	Chase nods at James explanation rather understandingly. He doesn't 'get' everything being said, but it's easy enough to tell that this James Bond isn't someone to worry about. At least not now. Leaving the Actual Spy to their own devices, Chase continues his way down the outside of the train until he reaches the car where the main group is. One may wonder how they knew where to look. Was it the NPCs telling him? A sixth sense? A tracking device that he told no one about? It's none of those things. He simply guessed where based on how much noise was coming from the cab. A pair of strong legs kick through the window as Chase rejoins the group. They don't even bother to wipe off any stray shards of glass. "Kamen Rider?... No, that can wait until we deal with the problem." The foreign sinking feeling in his chest takes precedent over masked heroes at the moment. Especially when considers that there are aren't any lasting repercussions here. "So what needs to be done?"
Cantio	"Kamen Rider...?" And then it all comes together. "Ah! You're the one from that expo!" It took a while, but Cantio's finally pieced it together. She sounds more excited than anything else, but she has to keep that excitement in check as things start to shift in unexpected ways. Even though she's not familiar with this particular story, seeing Bond's reaction prompt has her clenching her jaw and steeling herself as she heads towards the PRIVATE CABIN CAR. She looks food carts, locks, anything she can move, and gets to work barricading the door. She even tries using the laser watch to melt the edges of the door to the frame! "it sounds like something's coming this way. Secret agents need to keep all their blind spots covered, right?" She tries to sound professional and hardened as she says that, but there's an undeniably anxious tone in her voice as she says it. Lying about her motives can be pretty hard sometimes.
Tamamo	Chase asks what needs to be done. "There appears to be fighting behind us. Might you protect the ghost who disarms the villain's weapon, in the meantime?" Tamamo answers, and smiles. She's very good at that. "Thank you." With that said, she moves off in the exact opposite direction, catching up to Bond and Gawain. "Will this aid any others, gentlemen? Oh, but do not let me stop you. It is a rare chance for you to be so free as to let another make that first, hard choice, is it not? Now, please excuse me." She keeps walking, on toward whichever car is next.
James Bond	Yes. Him, and not the weather control laser. Why? Primal, violent, visceral satisfaction. That's why. There are times, when, in the course of his work, there are inklings of that satisfaction. Satisfaction felt at hurting another living being. He could never put a finger on quite why that was. But this is different. This is his choice. His. Not the crown's, not M's. His. He's always wondered: how good would it feel to let his obligations slip, to refuse to operate within confines set by his handlers and his enemies? A sweep would get him on the ground. So would a kick to the kneecap. It feels good. Right until... >You're making the right choice! Let me help you! He isn't. Objectively he isn't. His bloodied fist hovers over the villain's ruined face. He doesn't know what choice the others made. Only that, if it were solely his decision, within this hypothetical, potentially irreparable damage would have been done, a woman he loved would die, all so that he could... what? Have a moment of satisfaction? He hadn't planned on telling M about this. Now, he realizes he can't. That... felt good. "No," says Bond to Tamamo, as she passes. He sounds tired. He procures the Walther from his jacket and ends the villain, then and there. "That wasn't the right thing," he explains to Gawain. "The right thing was turning off the laser. He knew that. But I didn't care what the right thing was. I wanted to hurt him. Because I knew I wouldn't get another chance." He stares at the knight across from him, his gun at his side. "And do you know what, Sir Knight? -I enjoyed it. For a moment."
Hamada Haru	Haru blinks as Chase comes in through the window-- and questions all this Kamen Rider talk. He looks a little perturbed at the tone the roidmude takes on, but doesn't seem to recognize what Chase actually is. Or maybe it's just never actually been his department to deal with that specific problem. Cantio gets a more wary look. She's from a category that's been more directly troublesome to him before. All the same, he doesn't feel like lying about it. Nodding, he replies, "I am Kamen Rider Tetra." Which, coming from a Japanese man, probably comes off as 'I am Kamen Rider Deathflags.' Unrelated to this, Hamada Haru looks quite uncomfortable with the situation all of a sudden. He's not aware of the why-or-how, but things sort of deteriorating seems to register to him. He rests a finger against the laser watch, but doesn't seem to know exactly what to do. The scenario's far enough off the rails, and things feel sufficiently off, that he has no idea what the corrective measure could possibly be. He is not, after all, a government spy.
Chase	"I understand. Leave it to me." Chase already starts moving before Tamamo has a chance to smile. The name Kamen Rider Tetra reaches Chase's ears, but yet again, now isn't time for them to deal with that.
Ein	The ghost seems to be adjusting things. The choice is there, but, as well, there's history here. Something 'brought in', an absolute agency at play that had not been in previous Calibrations. A narrative expectation. A call and response. Behind, in pursuit and pouring from the two rooms that had not been explored are at least a dozen goons with determined slants to their brows and boxy shapes in their arms. Distortions in the vague approximation of Glocks and Kalashnikovs in cubist surreality. As the door is barricaded, the weapons are ineptly swung at the heavy weatherproofed glass window. More crap - from a pushcart to a broom to seat cushions to a very well-balanced Adult Beverage like Tamamo grabbed earlier to hold stacks up against the door. Gunfire from the weapons begins to pepper out the broken window in starts and fits as boxy barrels are forced through. The first shots tear into the console bank that the 'ghost' works at, sparks outlining the shape of a head, square shoulders, a tactical vest of some sort. Shying away from the sparks, the invisible man continues. "Just a few more seconds--!" The goons weilding Distortions only get a handful of shots off before they are fully barricaded off -- shooting out the two television screens in showers of sparks and glass -- but none at the party are effective shots. THE NEXT CAR: The next train car has the rows of seats left and right, but the center is a drunken darkness haloed by a single ring of golden low-watt lampbulb hanging over a man tied to a chair. His shirt's been removed, and bruises are obvious all over his upper chest from a beating hours earlier. He looks like a right-hand man. The only other lit or occupied object in the dark train car, besides the door beyond, is a lit table of various... implements. Truth-extraction objects. There's no button, no items to press. You already have your Interaction Object. The man's head rolls up to look punch-drunkenly at Tamamo. "I won't tell you what hole they put him." He leans down to spit on the floor. "And he'll rot there forever. How's that for a choice, eh?" Survey #3: What Question To Ask, And With What Voice?" MEANWHILE-- James puts a bullet in the skull of the villain. His broken struggles end suddenly and without fanfare or credit roll.
Hesinca	"... Hmmf." Hesinca starts striding slowly forward towards the man. "The choice should be pretty clear here." She's not talking to him... she's talking towards the rest of the group. "A bruised, battered soul... Beaten, literally, but also metaphorically by life itself. I've seen thousands - tens of thousands. Coming and going through my workshop floor..." "Give him to me. I'm not going to use my decision shot on this - because I think it should be obvious to all of you. Give him to me. I can make him relive his worst mistakes, his greatest regrets, make him fear his triumphs and embrace his mistakes." "He's got such bravado against being physically broken, doesn't he? But I can hit him with the worst things imaginable..." Hesinca stops. She's roughly in line with the rest of the implements. "I can hit him with himself."
James Bond	It's curtains for the villain. There's nothing left to be done. The next car has Hesinca and Tamamo already deliberating on a decision. The decision, in Tamamo's words, is 'as real as the train upon which we stand.' <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "Is it duty that drives you, or personal conviction? It is the degree of value in this answer I wish to gauge, and for this, the only clue is that 'you wish to know.' I can hardly guess at your past acquaintances, myself." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "I never had a partner. This must be something the man with my designation did--if it happened at all. I don't know what drove him. But what drives me is pride in my work. In being able to do what I'm asked, no matter the odds." In the past, Hesinca had demonstrated an ability to compel obedience. Lilian had, as well. "Do it," he says. Men who think they can tolerate physical pain always have a limit. But after coming face to face with a hidden part of himself... he wants to be out of here, however he arrives there.
Lilian Rook	"That's not what a secret agent would tell you." Lilian first replies to Haru. "At least, not on the first five years of the job." There's no way to tell if she's dead serious, or being effortlessly disingenuous a moment later, saying "Stay not thy hand for unnecessary persons. She's important to Bond, but a random civilian in the grand scheme of things. The same as every random civilian who'll die when the trigger is pulled on the elaborate death machine. She doesn't have any greater right to be saved than they do. And 'the many outweigh the few'." "Your turn." she turns to Chase kicking his way back in. "Who? Why? And how dare?" she says, in a perfect deadpan. Then, a slow, dead swivel to James. "'How dare' indeed. Is that really how an agent of the Queen performed back in that period?" Her face twitches inscrutably when he says 'I enjoyed it'. Like an instant of expressive arrhythmia. Her look hardens and turns frozen cold. And so, when the man spits at Tamamo's feet, and Hesinca drops that, Lilian tilts her her, slowly, in consideration, and says "Accepted. Though I imagine they'll demand the bullet from your chamber either way, in good faith." She steps out of the room, clenching and unclenching a fist. There's a bunch of shooting going on outside. That's fine. Ideal, even. Lilian intends to spend the next minute or so doing action flick takedown prompts on them to keep them from shooting into or storming the DECISION room.
Gawain	As Bond and Gawain speak, Gawain whispers something privately towards Bond. After a few moments of communication, they move to the next car, and they're about to, well, mind control a guy. Gawain wants to object, but he can't. So he turns his head away.
Cantio	"Knew it." Cantio's going to need to remember to grill Haru for notes later. The name, the suit, everything. But for now... There's simulation goons to deal with. She yelps as the windows get busted open and gunfire start pouring through, working double time to get that entrance plugged up before the group gets boxed in from behind. By the end of it, Cantio's holding onto the handle and leaning sideways REALLY HARD just to keep it all from bursting open, but... It looks like they're clear for now. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cantio steps away from the door, but holds off on stepping into the interrogation area proper as she sees Lilian coming closer. She straightens up, clenches her jaw, then glances back at the door to the PRIVATE CABIN for a brief moment. "Do you think they'll be able to get through? They already shot up the consoles, but if they come after us again through there, I don't know if it'll hold." She pauses, then reaches forward to see if she can pull her sword out of her inventory or if she's limited to her secret agent stash of that one gun. "... Maybe we could disconnect the train car entirely."
Tamamo	"Oh, now, did you think it would be so easy? Did you think that using your own tools, and not the gun provided, was not 'making a decision'?" Tamamo asks Hesinca. Her own gun is still missing, and her drink is still held by the stem, between two fingers. She doesn't really look like she should be at some dirty interrogation. "However you should choose to interact, I would expect, your 'shot' is expended, in the spirit of any answer being 'an answer.'" As Lilian actually approves of Hesinca handling it, she frowns. "No, no. If it were only a matter of the expected story playing out on stage between those humans who had chosen their unfortunate roles, I should have some reason to allow this to pass by, but I have no such obligation for demons. Apart from this, you lack my own capabilities, crude and wasteful as you are. Though I know not the value of the man so hidden, we must presume every question to have some value, if we are to continue with this." At 'this,' she makes a circular gesture to encompass the surroundings. Having been more rude than she's been to literally anyone since incarnating, Tamamo finishes with a dismissive gesture to Hesinca and a "shoo, shoo."
Hesinca	"I'm not actually hearing any valid solutions in any of that long rambling response," says Hesinca, who has her gun out but hasn't done anything with it yet.
Hamada Haru	"I know. I'm not a secret agent." Haru says, not arguing the point further. He doesn't dispute the point at all, simply acknowledging that he willfully does the suboptimal thing because that is what a Kamen Rider does. He fishes his badge out of his pocket. It loosely resembles that of the Tokyo Police Force, though it has a distinctly corporate bent to it that is a little off. You wouldn't mistake the two, but the parallels are easy to draw for those with familiarity. A belt materializes at his waist. << PRIMER SET >> It drones. "Light at the end of the tunnel--" The belt seems to realize that the situation is particularly appropriate. There is an abnormal gleam, and a phantasmal roar of a much older train whistle than is present on this one, "-- henshin!" << IGNITION >>A half-sphere of clear black energy rolls off of him, leaving behind a man in carapace-like black-and-white armor with distinctive "mountain stripes" that were iconic of the shinsengumi. A helmet with grasshopper-like features snaps around his head, a v-shaped crest unfolding. He strides on out -- through the barricade -- towards the Distortion Goons, adjusting something at his wrist that is not the LASER WATCH. << CALAMITY PROFILE: ABSTRACTION >> It announces, loudly. "Haven't heard that one before," Tetra says to nobody in particular, as he marches down the length of the train and simply attempts to Delete Hostile Scenario Obstacles in an only partially tangible form-- only his arms from the elbow down are fully manifest the whole time, to accommodate his attack.
Tamamo	Tamamo answers Hesinca with a disbelieving look, then steps up to the man on the chair, and puts her hand on his shoulder. She leans in. It's already too late to stop her, if 'interaction' works the way she said it would. Her magic was triggered the moment she stood there. It's in her eyes, but closing his own won't cut it off. It's in her presence, the manifestation of the divine, a goddess descended to earth, deigning to speak to the mortals below. It's only a glimpse, a narrowed field, barely perceptible outside that chosen area of effect. But that's focused up close for the unwilling target, whether his whole part can let him be called a 'victim' or not. There's nowhere for him to escape from the Sun's light. Awe, fear, and reverence are natural responses. Absolute power engenders absolute trust. To deny anything to that maddening, searing beauty would be unthinkably tragic. To fall over oneself in the drive to do something, anything to help her is the only course with which a single, unprepared human could be left. He'll feel quite strange when this feeling passes. "Tell me everything about him, and about those who hold him. You can trust me, even if no one else." To do what, she doesn't say. That's not important. This does, in total effect, constitute a full answer to Hesinca's implied request.
Chase	Current Objective: Protect the Ghost Do ghosts even need protecting if they're already dead? It's a pretty pointless objective if one sits and thinks about it. However, this is supposed to be a thought exercise of some kind, so the it's best to entertain it and not scrutinize the details. The barricade won't hold forever, and fighting isn't an option. Not with only one round in his gun. So the plan is to cut off the enemy's ability to reach them for good. If he had his Break Gunner, he could probably shoot the train apart. But he doesn't. So he settles for the next best thing. Chase pushes a button on the side of their wrist watch, a bright red laser emitting from it as he begins sawing the train cab in half in an attempt to permanently prevent the goons from reaching them.
Ein	Hesinca offers a solution, and the group seems to think that's the choice - until Tamamo intercedes with a rather direct verbal dressing-down, and an application of her own power. Her 'agency' applied in a similar way to Chase's assistance with the data-bank repair to ensure the deadly WEATHER CONTROL LASER and Lilian's observation of 'a bullet from her chamber' as a show of good faith comes with another ghost. The suave 'clunp' of men's shoe-sole against concrete pour is what bears Hesinca in. As she pauses by the table of implements, some hover consideringly, as if she picks up some of the more wicked and hooked ones for inspection. Despite the hardness of the man, there is a whimper. None of the devices are made for anything but extremely refined torment. And the presences are not playing the parts any more. Two great spirit-beings, a demon and a divinity, cause ripples and distortions that cast a reality to the Ghost. Like an outline with a suitjacket and a bow tie, striding like a spy action hero in full swing. A voice comes from the odd flat iconography of a male spy with that James-but-not-Bond tone. The spectre's voice is identical to that of the one that Chase had heard earlier and the others had witnessed beat the villain to death through the window with his fists. "Now, there's all these things I could do to you. You'd be a brave man for lasting through any one of them. I'll just need the one." There's the 'tink-tink-tink' sound of fingers against a hypodermic needle, and a glistening bead of water buds up from the air before the prisoner. The powers at play, though, are nothing so similar to a truth serum. The lightbulb fizzles and glows a far more hot orange, casting beads of sweat down on the beaten man's chest. The words don't sound right, and Not-James' shape seems to be talking as well, as Tamamo issues her orders. The 'words' arne't important. His near-baritone explanation of exactly how screwed the operation is, how he's got it all planned out, the confident repartee of the conquering hero building up a full head of steam. It is equally terrifying, and yet, convincing if for tenderness or chemical convalescence. The 'serum' plays out. "I-I get it! Okay... When the device was stopped, we took him to the train-yard. Heathrow. Once they move him to Berlin, you'll never find him. They'll pump him for all the information he has, and then kill him." He shudders, in chemical tension or cathartic release for bearing out his little goon heart to someone, and then slumps forward. Not-James ceases to be as the man slumps, but the way forward opens with a click. MEANWHILE--
Ein	At the rear of the train, the boiling over of goons from the walls and unobserved rooms prompts a more direct response from Chaser and Kamen Rider Tetra. Actually entering combat with the goons rapidly becomes a pulp action sequence except only one side got the message. The goons charge down Tetra's sweeping Abjuration arm, spiralling into things and popping in clouds of odd voxels and strange Distorted waveforms that tesselate around the 'wounds' his obliteration arm inflicts. Chaser, however, is more of a marksman by far, suppressing goons trying to shoot the hazardously-interacting bullets from their odd weapons. It'd probably still cause Suit Sparks on Chase, but doesn't everything? They'd be very grunt-worthy Suit Sparks. His sawing, however, is disgustingly effective. The laserbeam vaporizes a jagged line through the roof, all the goons getting shorn off by the whole roof coming apart and being tossed backwards violently into the empty air. With that handled, there's no way to advance towards the Ghost saving the world (in the past???) except through Tetra, who is currently obliterating goons with impunity.
Ein	The way forward is once more through a door, but this last door when it is approached is different: not a train-car door, but a vehicle-car door. The inside of the panel door of a classic Aston Martin, tall like for a movie shoot but still short enough one has to duck to slide under. The window is rolled up, and three bullets have impacted the bulletproof glass, sending thick spiderweb cracks through the whole frame that occlude what is through the portal. Opened, it reveals a tarmac - and the party sliding out of a car while the tires are still warmly smelling of overworked rubber and the engine thuds down to a dull roar. It is an airport tarmac, down range from the terminal building. In the rear distance are a number of wrecks and bodies, and signs of a battle are all over. The car apparently had a chaingun in the front compartment, and bullet casings scatter under the wheel well. A man in a black shirt and pants and eyepatch holds a gun against the skull of a figure with a black bag over their head. Figures rustle at the edge of vision but do not meanace, extras in the scene. "You're going to let me go, Double-O. And I'm taking him with me." Snarls the one-eyed henchvillain. He brings his left hand up to check his watch, the light reflecting off his signet ring. "When my flight gets here in three minutes, there will be two passengers - and you, Mister Bond, are not invited!" Survey #4: Which Two Men Are Leaving On The Plane?
Hesinca	"Well that's rude," observes Hesinca. "I'm sure three people could all fit on that plane just fine if they squeeze together." "Look, mister one eyed henchvillain person, we're all friends here..." she says, slowly approaching. "Look, I don't even have my gun out." She gestures, aiming her wrist just so... "Put the gun away, and we can talk. You like talking, right? A lot of people here like talking. A lot. It seems like all they do." She gets just a little closer, adjusting her gesturing hand so that her wrist is pointed just so, towards the guy's gun... ... and then her free hand mashes the 'Laser Wristwatch' prompt.
Hamada Haru	A few moments later, Kamen Rider Tetra strides right on back through the barricade. He triggers his de-transformation with the subtle hiss of a mechanism letting off steam, re-fastening his badge on his person and replying to Chase, "If we're weighing me based on luck, then I think that my misfortune would drag me down to hell at once. I will take the statement in the spirit that I assume it was given: Thank you." He may not know roidmudes well enough to intuit that Chase could well have been wishing for his death just now.
Ein	Hesinca composes themself as any hostage situator would. Calm steps. Calm words. Calmly raising a calming weapon that the monocular henchvillain doesn't know is a weapon. That he just invited the use of, casually, to James Bond. A man with the aid of the 'Letter of Weapons'. When she adjusts the watch, she can hear the confidently rakish words of the Not-James ring out. "Three minutes? That'd make it--" issues from Hesinca's position. James feels it in his throat. With the watch aimed, though, it goes off like a gunshot, propelling a miniature bullet into the cyclops' eye-hole. Except Not-James had the microbullet watch. Hesinca had the Laser Watch. The arc of the bullet shines cold blue, and then the cyclops man's head bubbles up like his skull became violently filled with plasma, and pops like an overripe fruit with a 'pkew--VREEMF' of distorted gunshot-to-laser-distortion sound. The henchvillain slumps over dead. Distantly, a plane can be heard, as the bag-headed figure shimmys left and right a bit. "Is that you, James?" The victim asks, relief evident.
James Bond	Bond seems comfortable with the door of the Aston, marching toward it with purpose. Astons... PPKs... whatever entities are running this survey must have made their choices based partially on his own preferences. It seems... relatively unlikely that the previous 007 would have had the same taste. But... it is possible... This a familiar sight. The destruction, the hostage situation... Being called by name surprises him, for a moment. But, the premise was that everyone would be in his shoes. There's no impact to his composure. He watches as Hesinca approaches. Good. That's more or less what he'd be doing. You can't reach for the gun. That's too obvious. You have to get them talking. They want to gloat, to talk, just for a minute. He's got one of those watches, too. While Hesinca keeps his eyes on her, he pretends to check the time while Hesinca takes the shot. "It's me," says Bond. He approaches the shrouded figure. He has to know. Is it 006? He has to see that face, with his own eyes, in person. He reaches out and removes the bag.
Cantio	When the rear of the train gets carved off courtesy of Chase, Cantio is on top of things and falls back so as to not get caught up in what might end up being a terrible explosion! If need be, she'll even try and drag Lilian back to safety. "Good work... I think-eh? You're a...?" She looks over Chase as she finally notices his suit, holding up a finger and opening her mouth as if she's about to ask something without getting any words out. "... Later." She hopes there's a later, anyway. It'll be tricky trying to catch both him and Kamen Rider Tetra, but she'll figure something out! For now, Cantio refocuses on the task at hand: Getting through the door that becomes a car door that comes a... Tarmac? When did they even get off the train? No matter, as things come to a head rather quickly. With a hostage situation now in play, Cantio notices Hesinca's ploy, and she clears her throat as she leans away from the centaur's way off to the other side and raises her hand not unlike a student waiting to be called on. And then the man's head just pops. Cantio's pretty sure she felt something splatter on her face, too. She keeps her jaw nice and stiff as she steps back, trying not to make any noises while Bond speaks to the hostage and she focuses on wiping her face off with the inside of her suit jacket.
Hesinca	Hesinca lets Bond deal with the hostage. Meanwhile, she goes to loot the body of the henchman. Maybe he has something good on him.
Ein	James and his ghost synch up, all but for his voice. The figure grunts out a sigh that sounds more human than any line that the hard men had spoke previously. A drizzling of reality in the strange airport-within-a-train-within-a-strange-universe. "God, James, you can't just put it all on my shoulders like that." James -- both James, the spectre in the black suit and bow-tie and the hard man with the dimpled chin and the wavy hair alike -- cut free the prisoner's bonds, and the man slides off his mask and leans his head up, neck popping in relief. The Not-James voice issues from James' throat again. "Chin up, Alec. This time we did better than good enough. A few more like that, and we'll really change the world." Alec Trevelyan, 006, looks up at James Bond in past and future, spectral bowtie and jacket-tails waggling in the air of the tarmac. He looks at this man and smiles, a soft smile as assurred in its expression as Not-James had uttered with hsi words. "A better world, then, James. Just a few more." The ghost helps up 006. James is unlinked. The sound of the plane just seconds away taxis in. In the side door of the plane, sliding open to reveal the Damsel that had previously been in distress, is the exit door from the Survey Area.
James Bond	He keeps saying 'James.' Is that part of the survey? Part of the Calibration? It has to be. But the him-that-isn't-him... no. The previous 007--he called 006 Alec. That came from somewhere real. From the previous 007. From his mind. He has to get out of here. Has to wake up from this dream, and then, while the iron is still hot, head back to HQ. Do some research. His stride picks up, the secret agent heading to the plane. His hand reaches out for the railing of the plane's embarkation ramp... touches the metal... No. He steps away, looks up. Up, at where he presumes the arbitrators of this Calibration are. "I want information. About the man who was 007 before me. Name your price." He can't look for it the conventional way. That is... he can, but there would be eyes on him. They'd want to know why. Then he'd have to lie--because any explanation of this place, whatsoever, would lead them to the conclusion that he'd been compromised. That the quality of his work was slipping. What then? Nothing good.
Ein	James asks the heavens for guidance. An appealed to the deus in the machina. The radio show host voice clears his throat, sounding from the plane's radio. "The purpose of Calibration is to account for variables. The sunlight man and the god of distortions believe as heroes do. We understand them. The equestrian acts as she desires. We understand them. The raven of order's code is especially clear to us. The star, we don't presume to categorize." The voice takes on an almost religious fervor at the end. "You brought this here, James Bond. This is what 'you' are. And we wish to understand it. If we can improve the rules for next time, this is worthwhile, isn't it? The reason why your world needs hard men, and what kinds of decisions those men are trained to make." "It's exciting, isn't it?"