Futuristic The Parallel Division: The Twelve Apostles

[Elle Joyner]

THE PARALLEL DIVISON: The Twelve Apostles

​

 

[Elle Joyner]

Orloj Clocktower, Prague: Present Timeline

​

Smoke was never a good sign... Particularly when it was streaming out in thick black swirls from the hyperdrive electrical panel. No amount of rebooting, button-slamming, kicking or screaming had any effect, and Mars was relatively certain the sudden pinging noise was part of the engine coil breaking apart. She wasn’t a mechanic. Not by a long shot, and even if she understood the difference between a carburetor and an alternator, the Clock was hardly a standard issue vehicle. It wasn’t even a vehicle at all, really. And somewhere in between 1930 and 2015, something had gone horrible wrong. She wasn't Science Division either, but whatever was happening she wasn't sure even they could fix it.


The team had gone out only a few hours before. For them, it would be days, but it wouldn't be nearly enough time to cause damage to the core. There was no conceivable reason that the machine should have overheated, but something had gone wrong.


Slamming the wrench into the panel again, Mars cursed, before choking on the gob of smoke that exploded into the air. The tar like smog spilled into her lungs and her chest constricted so painfully, for a second or two, she was sure she was going to pass out, cold. As her vision swirled, Mars clutched the back of her chair, her grip digging vice-like into the leather, leaving crescent grooves in the fabric.


It was only a moment however, and as it passed and her vision returned to normal, she sank into the chair, tapping the dials on the panel, desperate for some indication of what might be wrong. As her lungs cleared of the vile combustion, she picked up the communicator and depressed the TALK button.


Her voice was ragged and her throat felt raw, but she pushed through the pain, screaming into the receiver.


"Benefactor at Control… This is Benefactor, at control! We have some major malfunctions happening up in the Tower! Hello?? Anyone? Where the hell are you guys?!"


Tar like smoke choked from the engine again, and Mars felt her lungs tightening, her heartbeat erratic in her chest. She sucked in a wheezing breath, and depressing the comm button again, she prayed silently for any response... static, even, but the silence that greeted her was a pretty clear indication that the smoke had a secondary source. Communication had been knocked out.


"14...15...16..." She said aloud, her eyes tearing up, her vision throbbing, "17..."


Dropping out of the chair, she pried with her fingers at the instrument panel, breaking off a few nails as she yanked hard on the metal. With some success, the sheet cover shifted, and heat radiated from the opening. "18...19..."


She could see no fire present, but more thick black smoked swirled from the panel gate. "20...21....", Reaching in, risking the electrical burns to her hand, she felt for the little black switch, which would serve to activate the emergency comm device.


With the switch flicked, she pushed away from the panel, scooting backwards against the wall. Her chest burned with a dangerously familiar feeling and her fingers gripped the emergency comm, desperately, red lines swelling at the edge of her vision, "Benefactor..." She choked out, "...at control... Some...someone... anyone, help!"


Sparks spit out from the open panel gate, and the comm slipped from her fingers as the ringing in her ears began to worsen, exacerbated by the sound of the alarm system, as it finally switched on. She could see the fire, now, burning hot and bright within the panel gate and she knew now why her hand hurt so badly. "Someone, help..." She whispered, before her vision blackened and she collapsed, unconscious, against the wall.


@Dear Inspector, @Manaciel, @Jabroni, @Space Cowboy Ein, @Master Attano

 

[Jabroni]

Hank


The rather unwieldy yet adaptable biplane with its parasol wings skidded abruptly over the surface. Its wingtip floats pressed against the ocean, which eventually became raw sewage more or less as the PBY cleared the underground approach. As the the seaplane entered the cavern, Henry noticed a puddle around his boots. The Model 28 was not designed for pan-Atlantic flight. Truthfully, it was an early prototype that didn't exist until 1935, several years later.


"Dumbo is in daycare. We're home," he spoke through the onboard intercom while holding the receiver toward his mouth. Thank the Lord for that. So many things that could've gone wrong..yet somehow, some way, they pulled it off. He turned to Galen who was flying copilot, warmly slapping his shoulder. "We did it!" he grinned, chuckling under his breath. "We f----ing did it!"


Their chief engineer performed above expectation, not only managing to lure Churchill to his particular taxi, but making sure he went Humpty Dumpty out the right door at the proper time. Henry wondered what the conversation was like. He didn't witness the operation go down, nor did he have the opportunity to meet one of history's most iconic figures. Did the man of many great words drop some insightful wisdom? Did he even speak at all?


"So, what's he like?" He was kind of an idol of Henry's - along with his esteemed peers. Ever since he went to flight school, he developed a fascination for great air battles. The Battle of Britain was at the top of the list. And now they were responsible for the poor guy's hospital visit. He felt somewhat badly about that, but hey, it had to happen..because it always happened.

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Galen Nicolau


Flying wasn't entirely Galen's forte. He knew the basics, but he preferred to have his feet on solid ground. He had done his research on the Catalina and while it was sturdy, he couldn't help the feeling that something was going to go wrong. But, nothing did go wrong. In fact, the whole process of preventing the murder of one of history's greatest figures by ensuring he was hit with a car went perfectly. Getting into a taxi was hardly a taxing experience, save for making sure he could beat out what he assumed were at least two other cabbies responding to the man's hail. He honestly had to do everything within his power to keep it all together, even his accent had to be right. It was one thing so have seen the man on television and in old photos, but for him to be there. THE Winston Churchill when he was still just another politician. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined doing this five years prior.


The jolt of pontoons hitting water brought him back to reality, or what was certainly passing as such. His grip was tight on the flight stick despite Hank's clear control of the craft and he tore his eyes from the horizon as they approached the cave. He blinked and turned to the pilot in response to his rather forceful shoulder-slap. "Yeah...we did.." He repeated slowly before letting go the stick and relaxing. His mind was certainly muddled by the experience. To be having such a brief conversation with the man and then to see him get hit moments later was a bit of kick in the head after his once in a lifetime experience. But he was confident in Farris' ability to keep the man alive and administer proper aid to keep him stabilized, and she did so with flying colors.


"What was he like..." He whispered before his lips formed into a smirk. "He was blunt, to the point. And his humor was about as dry as the Atacama Desert." He looked over to the pilot before removing his headset. "Overall just about who you'd expect him to be. A very proud man to a fault, but he seemed like he knew what he wanted for the brief moments we took to talk politics before stopping." He set his headset down on the seat of the chair and glanced out into the hangar. From the entrance to the tower he could see the Benefactor approaching. "Looks like Ms. Galfrey's come to congratulate us. May even be bringing along some good news. You an American Football fan Hank?" He asked on his way towards the cockpit door. Beyond it was the Catalina's passenger holds where the rest of the team was likely getting ready to disembark. Though, in the back of his mind a lingering thought hung around of whether or not they did something wrong. If they did, it was likely too late to go back and change now. But it went so well and was likely his post mission paranoia getting to him.

 

[Ronan]

It started with a stolen lab coat, swapped medical IDs — of which resulted in drugging the head trauma surgeon with a small dose of gamma-hydroxybutyric acid and hiding his body in the medical closet — and wheedling a very distraught nurse who wouldn't stop shouting about female doctors into surrendering Churchill's case.


She stole charts and changed details, including the surgical plan, and manipulated specialty doctors into doing a bronchoscopy, a fluoroscopy, and a MRI before a surgery that comprised of two rib bridges and a wedge resection.


She saved the future prime minister of England.


But now...she had her head pressed against the cool glass of the seaplane and a puke-bag ready. Farris was a good traveler, but something about planes prior to the "70s gave her horrible air sickness.


She repositioned her body away from the window, towards Jason, then looked to Erik with an apologetic expression about her inevitable sickness, then to the front — to Galen and Henry who she overheard talking about Winston Churchill. She never spoke to him, only saved him. The doctors that remained at the Lenox-Hill hospital would have the opportunity to talk to him when he woke, but they would never know that it was a female doctor that prevented Churchill's death at the hands of incompetent doctors, and saved his life.


When the seaplane landed, much to Farris' joy, she was the first off. 'You could 'ave landed ze plane a leetle nicer, 'Enry,' she muttered, still holding the puke bag close and using her other arm to steady herself on Erik's shoulder.


She saw Ms. Galfrey approaching and immediately hated how disheveled she looked, both from trying to keep her food down and from the Lenox-Hill emergency.

 

[Master Attano]

JASON


It was 1931, 1931. Jason would have pinched himself if he hadn't done it twice already. Not only was it 1931, but he had just seen, talked to, shook the hand of and even shared joke about being Irish with a young Winston Churchill. Winston Churchill, the very man Jason had read about throughout his life, the biggest personality of modern day Britain, and what some would call its savior. Jason pinched himself again, a smile spreading across his face. It's just a shame I had to meet him just before his accident, Jason mused, the smile gently waxing from his face as the image of Churchill's body being smashed into the pavement flashed before his eyes. He had been confident that Farris would be able to handle his condition, even if antibiotics hadn't even been invented yet, or half of the technology used in the modern day. His concerns had amounted to nothing however, Farris once again showing why she wore the Stethoscope in the Division.


A rising feeling in Jason's stomach pulled him from his reverie however, the buzzing roar of the prop engines deafening in his seat. The Czech Republic's beautiful rolling green landscape that passed below helping to distract him. Even if he had to look out the window on the opposite side of the plane. Farris, who was sitting beside him, taking up the whole window as she appeared to be struggling to contain her lunch. Turning back to the window however his mind quickly drifted. It was crazy to think that to the Northwest right now, Hitler was now going about his daily business. The horror that would be the Nazi's still in their infancy, the terror and devastation that they would bring still able to be averted. Jason caught himself as his mind began to run down a line of thinking that he knew was wrong. It wasn't up to him to decide what should or shouldn't happen in history, that right lay with the people that lived in the moment. Looking out towards the quickly approaching capital of Czechoslovakia however, a city that had become his home in the future but yet still had to suffer through Nazi oppression, he couldn't shake a sense of sadness.


The impact of the plane's pontoons hitting the water once again dragged him back to the physical. A look of concern creeping onto his face as water squirmed through the corners of the plane and ran across the floor. Glancing at Farris he gave her an empathetic nod, the normally very composed and neat woman looking like a bartender had shaken her, instead of her drink. As the plane pulled to a stop he pushed himself back into the seat as she hurriedly moved to the door. Jason calmly undoing his seat belt with a small smile on his face as she rushed past. Gesturing for Erik to go first as he stood. Following him out if he did so.

 

[Widget]

Erik Bentham


Plunging through the dense, rapidly darkening clouds with all the grace of a sinking ship, Erik was struck by how eerily familiar the grey hued sky appeared. So accustomed was he to ambience of 1931 New York, with its harried, bustling of activity as the recently unemployed struggled to find work, and its vintage buildings, that he often forgot that he wasn't in a completely alien universe. But, as he gazed out at the sky before him, the same sky that he would see decades from now, Erik was reminded of just how real the past was, and how easily it could have been his present.


Bracing himself against the rough material of his seat as the plane sped shakily through a wave of turbulence, Erik caught sight of Farris struggling to withhold her sickness, but judging by the paleness of her skin and apologetic look she sent his way, he accurately hypothesized that her efforts would ultimately be in vain. Frowning empathetically at the poor woman, he turned away to give her some privacy. She deserved that much for the tremendous amount of work she put in on the mission; saving Winston Churchill from his car "accident" was no small feat, no matter how anyone perceived it.


It was only when Erik heard Hank enthusiastically ask Galen for a description of the future prime minister did the absurdity of the situation finally dawn upon him. They had saved the life of a man who would later play a large role in determining the outcome of World War II. They had existed in a period in which Hitler, Himmler, and Heydrich lived. They had breathed the same air as the numerous -- too many -- young men and women who would die, victims of an unpreventable war. Unpreventable... At least that's what they told themselves in order to remain sane. Often Erik wondered whether they could have done something to prevent the terror that was approaching, despite the anti-Semitism in Germany and the unrest of it's people. Yet he never voiced his concern; he didn't have to. They were all thinking it.


Erik breathed a sigh of relief as the plane touched the ground. Soon they would be home. Soon he could leave behind the eager, unsuspecting voice of Edward Cantasano behind, as well as the lingering hint of guilt of not doing more.


Standing up from his seat, Erik stretched his legs, sore from being sedentary for a long period of time. He offered a small nod and thankful smile to Jason as the man stepped aside to allow Erik to disembark the plane before him, and greeted the fresh air with nothing short of elation. Tensing up slightly as Farris steadied herself on his shoulder, but quickly relaxed as of not to alert the young woman of his initial discomfort.


"Tough flight?" Erik inquired, still struggling to adjust to the change in altitude. His question, however, was cut short by the arrival of a particularly anxious benefactor, her hair astray and face red from exhaustion. Erik caught her eyes with trepidation, expecting the worst. Of course the mission couldn't have gone smoothly; its apparent success had been too good to be true.

 

[Effervescent]

Edward Rosen


Science Division: St. Juda Tadeus - The Historian


It was always nerve wracking to stay behind at the Clock Tower when a mission was underway. While his coworkers were off in another time and another place, time progressed at a different rate than his own. He would never know if they would return minutes or hours after their departure. And when the minutes rolled into hours, his nerves only furthered to stress in his mind. He was powerless, and all he could do was wait and insure the device within the Clock Tower did not break down. Traveling to the past was always far more strenuous than to the future. Missions that led into history, however, meant that Edward had a plethora of pertinent reading pertaining to that era. The Apostles of the 1930s were perhaps a little more secretive than most. During WWII a lot of their documents both past and present were hidden for decades to insure they did not fall into enemy hands. Most of what managed to survive was heavily coded, and it wasn't until forty years later that a Science Division Apostle started decoding the journals in her free time.


Edward sat in the library, the original document placed within his lap while he held the decoded version in hand. It wasn't entirely necessary to reference both, especially since he confirmed her key to be correct, but none the less he had to insure for himself that every word matched as it should. There wasn't much being said to begin with aside from the arrival of future Apostles and a brief, vague summary of their mission. It was customary to inform the Era Apostles of the nature of their visit into the past, and while frustrating, it was also known that details were on a need-to-know basis to preserve the least amount of interference. Past their entrance into that era, they were not allowed to document more. This allowed for discrepancies and leeway so that their departure time, the nature of their departure, and the details of their mission success could have a greater variable and they could more easily come home to their appropriate present. Sometimes, some things accidentally would make their way into journals that shed light into certain details. Arguments were often made as to whether or not the written words would set anything into stone if never seen by another. Edward believed if it was written, it was so, and there's no changing that for their timeline.


His cell phone buzzed in his pocket in two quick successions. At first, the nature of the buzz did not even register in his mind. He was fully focused in the translated journal. It wasn't until the phone buzzed again that he reacted, his hand slipping into his pocket only to press a button within to continue on ignoring the message in peace. Nothing was more important than his research, and if his coworkers within the present had anything pressing, they knew where to find him.


Edward's mind then wandered to Johannes Brahms' Hungarian Dance No. 1 in G Minor as he set back to reading through and checking the deciphered text written in 1931. He couldn't tell if the Apostle who wrote the text suffered from extreme paranoia or if the coding was for the hell of it. Either way, it was entertaining in itself and proved a lovely distraction from the hours that had passed.


But more important work soon took Edward away from his fun work as an alarm sounded. His head shot up in immediate realization to the conflict at hand. Despite the urgency, Edward managed to place the two journals back into their rightful places upon the shelf, their spines lining perfectly to the books and journals next to them to perfectly display their Dewey Decimal Classification that ribboned across the row. He would not stop to insure they were perfectly perfect, but since he made the rule of putting documents back where they belong after use, he had to uphold his own rules to the T.


It was satisfactory enough to continue his rush into the Clock Tower's main chamber, and he was immediately hit with a cloud of black smoke like a punch to the gut. His arm swooped out in wide motions, stirring away the thick cloud as he coughed away what little smoke he inhaled.


"What on earth-" he managed to choke out before his foot rammed into something malleable and unexpected. There against the wall was Marseille's unconscious form, her shoe knocked off somewhat by Edwards accidental kick. For a brief second he wanted to check on her, his hands hovering over the woman in his hesitancy as his brain quickly reeled through logic. He was no medical doctor, and the universe's most important device was smoking. That was something he could do, and so he turned away from the woman and set to his new task.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Madeline Jenner

Orloj Clocktower, Prague: Present Timeline
​

When the alarms went off Madeline Jenner was alone in her office, a fact she was most grateful for, because when the klaxon blared over the intercom, she was so startled by the sound she fell backwards out of her chair, landing in a heap with a small yelp. Untangling herself from wires and cords and limbs, she rose to her feet, rubbed the back of her head, then moved swift as her legs would carry her out into the hallway.


She wasn't far from the Astrolab where the control panel was kept, and she wasn't remotely a heifer, but she also wasn't exactly in the greatest shape, either, and the sprint to lab had her winded. Skidding to a stop outside the door, narrowly tripping, she caught herself on the doorframe and pulled herself upright, her eyes widening at the sight of the smoke filled room, and the shredded control panel, heart thudding wickedly at the sight of Mars, pale and unconscious... or so she hoped... a sooty, dirty mess. Mars was never dirty... she was always so put together, so pretty and polished. It felt wrong, seeing her this way, and she wanted to fix it, but the panel... and the smoke...


"Oh God..." She whispered, and her eyes moved to Eddie, who was bent over, peering into the panel, "Mars... she... she doesn't look so... Is that on fire!?" Dropping down, she looked into the panel gate, "Oh hell, no. What did... Who... Augh!" Rising, she moved to the panel and her fingers hit the keys, typing rapidly, "We need to put that fire out! There's a switch, towards the back, behind the supply belt... the squiggly looking thing, there. Looks like half-cooked spaghetti... the belt, not the switch. Should trigger the coolant spray... If we can get the fire out, we can... OH!" Pulling her fingers away from the keys, she frowned, "Little jerk shocked me. Ooh... we're gonna words later." She returned to typing, more and more rapidly, "You find the switch??"

Paige Galfrey

December 14th, 1931
​

Watching the 2015 Crew exist the plane, Paige swore softly , her expression folding in a frown. They all looked so happy... so pleased. It wasn't like she could blame them. Even without the details, she knew what their mission entailed had to have been important, and with such a huge success, their victorious celebrating was well earned.


Somehow, though... it would've been a whole lot easier if they weren't so damned cheerful. Stepping forward, rubbing her arms Paige cleared her throat, "Hell..." She muttered, because she realized she hadn't actually thought through what she was going to say, "Roughly fifteen minutes ago, we lost contact with Base Ops in your time. At first, we had some static, thought maybe the channel or the frequency shifted... but there's nothing. No response, no static. Just... dead air."


Taking a breath, she shook her head, "We can't say, without the information, what happened... but... for right now at least, it looks like you may be stranded. We have no way to tell if we can get you folks home. I... I'm sorry."

 

[Sunbather]

taylor bajalica


Taylor had felt unusually left out of th current mission most of their team was on. She wasn't too familar with historical figures, and while she knew who Churchill was, her interest in the matter was considerably lower than, say, Hank's, who seemed estatic to be involved with it. Or, rather, that was Taylor's impression of it. None of her fellow Apostles behaved any differently, but the girl had a good sense of what was going on inside of others. As she did often, the girl tigered through the tower, unsure just what to do. Taylor regularly pondered as to why she was even here. No qualification of hers seemed to measure up to any of the other folks, and more often than not she felt like she didn't belong.


As a result of her contemplating - and slightly insecure - mood, she had simply sat around and watched Edward, who seemed to be into his documents quite a bit. She sat back, quietly chewing on a strip of gum. The shiny packaging it was wrapped in twirled around and forced into shapes she found entertaining for a few seconds, before its amusing value vanished, while keeping her eyes on the ridiculously intelligent man was enough for her in this moment. She was rather easily entertained, to be frank, and in her quest to find a meaningful task, she would lose her thoughts and instead entertain a mundane activity.


As Edward stashed away his papers and lift, Taylor let out a sight. Her slender fingers exerting a frustrated pressure, which lead her to crush the carefully created shape, now simply squishing the paper. With a hang of her shoulders, she through it in the closest bin - by god, Mars would lecture her if she wasn't being orderly, she thought with a smile - and pushed herself up from the ground, slowly trotting after Edward. She had to be able to do something, right? With a little frown she contemplated what she could do that everyone else struggled with, and quickly, she felt unpleasently redundant. With a little but abrupt movement of her head, she shook of the thoughts and instead sped up her steps. It seemed as if everyone who was still at base had moved to the main chamber. Maybe that's why they're so smart. Always around those machines and controlls. You gotta pick up... something through that... right? Now feeling the same sense of enthusastic determination a first grader felt, she decided it'd be time to take matters into her own hands and not just wait for her to magically become more useful. Instead, she'd MAKE herself useful.


As the door opened, she stepped in and, within a milisecond, her newly found smile vanished. If it wasn't for her tan, she'd be pale by now. "Wh-what's happening?!" she asked, seeing Edward rush towards the machine. "Where's Mars?" she asked, counting only Edward and Maddy around, before the corner of her eye picked up the otherwise composed woman, now looking in a rough condition. Taylor gasped, and quickly kneeled down next to her, checking her heartbeat and puls. While cold sweat ran down her forhead, she was reliefed to feel her vital signs. With a frown, she turned around to Maddy. "What's going on? Can I... help?" she asked, fearful of a very harsh rejection.

 

[Jabroni]

Hank


He listened eagerly to his copilot, heaving a soft chuckle. So, the British bulldog was just that: equally frank as he was stubborn. No surprise there. Henry did wonder whether race was an issue what with their present day and time..a period in which segregation was alive and well. Then again, the team anticipated this factor among many others, and the role of a cabbie appeared inconspicuous.


Powering down the instrument panel, he clambered out of the driver's seat. "Looks like Ms. Galfrey's come to congratulate us. May even be bringing along some good news," said Galen. Henry jerked his head toward the dashboard windows, squinting down the long corridor. He was about to say more good news would be a sin, but Galen promptly changed the subject.


"You an American Football fan Hank?" Heh. Apparently you haven't read my file. "My family watches the Army/Navy game every year. You can guess which team I'm pullin for.." For two years the big guy ran with the offense for Annapolis. He definitely wasn't the next Rob Gronkowski with his sluggish movement. Regardless of his athletic ability, his focus remained on flight school. Funny how things work out.


While the duo prepared to exit, Negative Nancy ripped into his piloting skills. Henry made a frumpy face, but soon curled a smile, jabbing a thumb in her direction as she exited. He locked eyes with Galen once again. "Ain't she a peach?" A gadfly on a horse's belly is what she was. Farris had the nerve-wracking ability to humble a man at every turn, and she knew it. He thought there was probably a story there..how she became - obtuse - but the fact is they hadn't grown that close these past months.


Just as Galen surmised, another matter required attention. Ms. Galfrey greeted the motley crew as they exited the PBY..to a rude awakening. Henry wanted to shout at the top of his lungs.


"It looks like you may be stranded" You may be stranded. Stranded. The words resonated in his skull to a numbing pain. He found his eyes twitching anxiously. Their friends back at the Tower could be hurt or worse, and what would Donna think about his disappearance? His children? He couldn't bear to think about it.

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Galen Nicolau


"Ah. I see." Galen replied with a small smirk. That much didn't surprise him, Hank being an avid football fan seemed to help make more his personality. And if Galen could guess it right, the man likely played himself in his younger days. "I enjoy the sport as well. It keeps a good pace, a lot less faked injuries than regular football." Galen had expected as much of a reaction from his fellow French national. Her distaste brought a subtle smile to his own lips as he shared a glance with the pilot. "Most of the time, if you're lucky. You get used to the ah....cheekiness after a while." He finished before exiting the plane behind him.


No sooner did he close the plane's hatch behind them did Ms. Galfrey arrive to deliver her news. His shoulders slacked a bit at hearing that they were likely stranded in the current timeline. That meant a whole bunch of things went wrong, and suddenly Galen felt a strong need to do something. Back in their timeline, something was going wrong, and he wasn't there to help fix it, and it made him feel sick inside. "Shit...." He mouthed in the least bit of subtlety. He took a moment to combat the sudden bit of panic that threatened to take over and forced logic to grab the reigns. "Have you tried contacting any of the others on the line between now and then? Maybe something went wrong, wear and tear along the way?" His inquiries came in short bursts, leaving his lips as soon as they got through his brain. His steps were quick as he made his way around the group and continued on. "Maybe....maybe something happened before hand that's affecting our current time. Maybe we can pass a message forward through them?" His eyes, unblinking, set on Ms. Galfrey's as he came to a stop a short distance from the rest of them.

 

[Effervescent]

Edward Rosen


Science Division: St. JudaTadeus - The Historian


The smoke caught in his lungs forcing him to take short breaths as he opened up a panel. Edward was so focused on his task that Madeline's voice barely registered in his mind. It was as though her hysteric tone automatically shut his attention away from her words. He had no time to concern or console his coworker with information he'd already gathered upon entering the chamber. For such an intelligent woman as Madeline Jenner, it did frustrate him that she did not apply herself to formulate her own observations based on logic.


He had already located the source of the fire and set to puttingit out before Madeline had called out her commands. Unfortunately for the woman, he was still too absorbed in his own little world to notice her direction. The engine coil had broken apart, but that was a symptom to something else unseen within the smoke. While the smoke made it difficut to see through his glasses, he pressed on calmly, and flipped the switch to the coolant spray before Madeline could finish her sentence. The spray hissed into the smoking panel, and he swiped his arm through the smoke to initiate the cloud's dissipation as he finally looked over at the other two concsious people in the room.


"What were you saying?" he asked Madeline and Taylor. The smoke began to thin and settle about the chamber, but the smell of burned plastic and heated metal lingered thickly. Edward could barely make out much of his coworkers' features through the black veil even as he walked past them towards the tool shelf. Tools jingled lightly as he pulled a metal drawer out and plucked a torch from its depths. He clicked the button on its side to check the power, and the LED lights beamed through the smoke and refracted off the particles that clung to the atmosphere.


His hand sifted through the cloud as he walked back to the drenched panel containing the damaged engine coil. The bright blue light shined onto the rows of cylinders that contained the engine coils. Within each cylinder was a core wrapped in copper rarely seen due to the protective covering that not only protected the coil from outside damage or corrosion but protected the rest of the team from radiation. It was the very part of the time machine that transferred the energy collected from the dark matter within to produce the manipulation of time and space. Edward frowned as the light refracted off of exposed metal that melted from extreme heat.


"We have a few damaged coils," he called out to his coworkers as he rose to a stand. "We need to put on the lead aprons before we proceed. Put one on Marseille as well, Taylor, if you don't mind."


@Sunbather @Elle Joyner

 

[Master Attano]

Stranded. The word sent a twinge of panic through his very being as Galfrey finished her sentence. Not a moment ago a smile had touched Jason's face as he had shaken the water off his shoes and listened to the exchange between Hank and Galen, but that smile had quickly slipped away. The beautiful sights and excitement of being in a different time forgotten for a moment. As suddenly as it had appeared however, he swallowed the fear away like a bad after taste. Mentally clamping down on any despairing thoughts or notions. If he had learned anything about time travel in the last year - which he doubted was very much at all - it was that wherever or whenever there was an issue linked to time travel in anyway, there was bound to be a hundred ways to get around it, through it, under it and over it. a small smile returning at the thought.


"Well." he sighed, stretching his stiff back behind the group as he watched Galen press Galfrey for information. "I hope someone remembered the name of the winning horse this year." he joked.


His unworried look hiding the fact that he was listening carefully for what Galrey would say in response. Unable to shake a wriggle of doubt that something had gone seriously wrong.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Madeline Jenner

Orloj Clocktower, Prague: Present Timeline
​

If Madeline was at all offended by Eddie’s curtness or from being ignored, it didn’t show. She was focused... Focused to a degree that seemed impossible for someone who never seemed to concentrate on anything for very long. But it wasn’t just that this was her element, it was the knowledge of how crucial, how important it was that they didn’t just fix the machine, but that they fixed it fast. The longer the others were stuck in the other timeline, the more damage they were facing. The more dangerous it became.


So she worked, typing madly, pulling levers and pressing buttons and toggling switches. Her hands moved almost of their own volition, dancing across the panel like a ballet performer. As the smoke cleared and Eddie mentioned the coils, she nodded, turning to Taylor.


“Two aprons ought to do it. No sense in all of us standing around, poking at things when two will do the trick. I think maybe it would be best if you took Mars to the infirmary. Do you think you can manage without help? OH!” She exclaimed and her eyes flicked the screen in front of her, “I think I’ve got comms online!” Pulling one from the panel she pressed the button, “Hello?? This is Mouse, erhm... Madeli--No, shoot! Uh... The Magician! At control! I repeat, Magician at control. Is anyone there? Hello??”


For a moment, static buzzed over the line, chirping now and them, fading in and out. Her fingers clattered over the keys and she pressed the button again.


“Hello!? Anyone there??”


“Hello! Yes! Hello? This is... Oh who cares! Don’t go anywhere! I have to get Galfrey on the line! Please! Don’t go anywhere!”


Frowning, Maddy put a hand over the comm, looking down to Eddie, or whatever part of him she could see, "I've got them... '31!"

 

[Widget]

Erik Bentham


"But there's nothing. No response, no static. Just... dead air."


For a moment, time seemed to stand still -- frozen in place by some unknown barrier. Erik stared back at Ms. Galfrey incomprehensibly, his mind strangely blank and void of any thought or feeling. He frowned, as though sorting through the benefactor's words like a particularly cumbersome puzzle.


"...It looks like you may be stranded. We have no way to tell if we can get you folks home."


Erik blinked abruptly at the word home, the familiar thought snapping him back into the present... or rather, the past. All at once his mind began to spin, assessing all of the different possibilities with desperate fervor. The Clock Tower was no longer connected to 1931... and not because of a faux frequency or channel -- situations that could have been easily resolved with very little or next to no time penalty. Glancing around at the disconcerted faces of his comrades, Erik knew they were reaching the same conclusion as he had. The Clock Tower had overheated. But why? They had been gone for only a few days, and even a shorter period considering the other apostles' conception of time. Barely acknowledging Ms. Galfrey's stuttered apology, Erik raised the aforementioned question.


"How can this be possible? There is no way the Clock Tower could have overheated in such a short time frame." Erik asked, attempting to maintain a calm façade. Despite his efforts, his voice shook slightly at the end of his sentence as he considered the increasingly poor outcomes that could have befallen the apostles back at camp.


"And there's no way to make contact with the 2015 team?" The question came out more as statement. The answer was obvious, and its prompt a hopeless attempt to uncover some resolution. There was no denying it; the past that Erik had once known as history was soon to become his, and the rest of his team's, present.

 

[Sunbather]

taylor bajalica


The jeans-clad figure hastily pushed itself up, up from the ground, up from the motionless body, the body normally vigorously moving around. It belonged to the appropiately scattered seeming "colleague" - a weird term for the teams activity, and Taylor usually thought of it more as a sister- and brotherhood kinda deal - Mars. Unconscious Marseille... It sounded like of the random bands that would perform in the club she worked in, and although the thought crossed her mind for only a second, if even that, she immediately balked and wondered how she could think of something that mundane and unimportant in such a serious situation. "Yeah, of course." a thinly spread voice finally sounded from the tanned, lanky body that had moved away from the Edward and Madeline, the two so busy that it seemed like a competition of who could exhaust themself more, and away from the continously unaware Marseille. Taylor looked around in the room, only to realize that the aprons apparently were not put back in place, which required her to approach the exit. "I'll be right back!" she screeched out, her voice cracking on two occassions. The girl hoped that her friends - if one wants to call them that - had understood regardless, as she deemed a premature return only to repeat possibly clear announcements a waste of time. And time was a critical factor right now. Granted, time was always a critical factor in this tower, but now more so than usual.


Quickly, Taylor made her way into a storage looking room, something that would possibly be refered to as a broom closet, though no brooms were present at the moment. Grabbing the relatively heavy aprons, she decided to - at least for now - consider her safety a low urgency issue, instead returning with only three examples of the protective fabric. "Here." She would've thrown them to safe valuable split seconds, but Taylor feared messing it up. Not only was she the kind of person to somehow manage that a thrown t-shirt died mid-air, like an ergonomically poorly folded paper plane, she also felt a distinct kind of performance pressure, something closely related to; but not quite - stagefright. At the very least in front of the male who still wrestled with the now potentially reoccuring control over the safety hazard. She put the third and last apron on top of Mars, the cord being closed rather messily but sufficent, and tried to lift the body a little, so she wouldn't actually drag her whole body over the floor. "Let's get you out of here, hun" she said through pursed lips, the words more of a distressed blowing of hot air. "Can I do anything in here to help?" she asked, similar to the tone of a bag boy in the supermarket after witnessing a noteworthily unfriendly, elderly shopper. A situation that had the potential for extremely unpleasant answers regardless of the words' content. Truthfully, she knew she probably couldn't do much. But it seemed like the least she could do and the least she was required to offer.

 

[Ronan]

Farris Pariseau


Science Division: St. Barnabas - The Sage




The Sage frowned.


But not in the way that encompassed slight down-turned lips and worrisome eyes — Farris frowned with her brows. and her pools of mantis held nothing back. Had something gone wrong with Churchill? Was time still on it's correct path? Farris had never heard of losing contact. She even spoke to Edward on a free day about the possibility of sudden anomalies and the chances of losing contact, which he quickly dismissed, and the topic was never brought up again. She supposed he didn't like to think about the 'what ifs'.


The Frenchwoman wrested her hands, spindly and dry, and looked to Erik. She liked Erik; he was kind and had old world air about him, and always knew how to ask questions.


'If ze Clocktower in out timeline overheated, zen some'zing must 'ave gone wrong,' she spoke to no one. It more of a statement than a question. If the 2015 Clocktower overheated, then it wouldn't be an understatement to say that those left behind are dealing with severe injuries or burns. She feared for Marseille and Taylor. Edward was soft; Madeleine was smart and would no doubt repair the Tower, but the others? Marseille was already weak, and Taylor was a walking human disaster. And there was the issue of the smoke. It could further put their lives in peril and on a timer.


She stepped forward and stood in front of '31 Benefactor. 'You must fix ze Tower, rapidement! Ze o'zers are in danger,' she warned. The Frenchwoman turned to Galen and Hank. 'Go to ze control room and see if you can try and get us connected to zem. And if you can, ask for everyone's status, injury-wise. We may not be able to get back to ze present, but I can 'elp zem.'

 

[Jabroni]

Hank





He stood there quietly, dumbfounded by the circumstances of their current predicament. What could the burly pilot do amidst a scientific conundrum? His team's voices collected into a blur until, suddenly, a set of green-blue determined eyes found his own. 'Go to ze control room and see if you can try and get us connected to z'em. And if you can, ask for everyone's status, injury-wise. We may not be able to get back to ze present, but I can 'elp heal z'em.'


Henry wrinkled his forehead, taking a moment to process the words. He didn't like taking orders from her, but it sounded good and at least Farris had a plan. He turned to Galen, tilting his head sideways in the direction of the tower. "I'll follow your lead. With your permission, Ms. Galfrey," he said, acknowledging the current leader. It was her call what the team did and when no matter how anxious they all wanted to find a solution.


The caveat that Galen reigned competent in all things mechanical gave him comfort. If someone could fix the tower, the group may very well have lucked out today. Henry knew tentatively what he would do - what he had been planning to do once they arrived, which was to get out of everyone's way...at least until they needed a navigator.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Paige Galfrey

December 14th, 1931
​

The myriad expressions on the faces around her were hard to look at, hard to take in. There was fear, anxiety, frustration... she wouldn't have been surprised at all if she wasn't, in fact, imagining the anger in some of them. And really, she couldn't blame them. It wasn't optimum, certainly, being trapped in a decade they knew nothing about, and yet a decade they knew so much about. So much, that they couldn't alter, couldn't talk about. It was a nightmare, even the idea of it, and it took very little suspense of belief to think that there was a bit of resentment towards her and her team for getting them stuck where they were.


But that was just it, "...It's not on our end." She said, quietly, when the woman, the doctor began to offer suggestions, "We've checked. Everything is running smoothly this side of time. Whatever happened, wherever the error is, it's coming from your side. I'm afraid without any information, we just don't know what to do. This... this has never happened before, not to us. There was the Burn Out in '08, but ultimately the details we have on that incident just aren't enough to give us a clear understanding on how to fix--"


"Ms. Galfrey!" The voice came from the doorway, from a fairly skinning young man, waving his arms almost frantically. His face was red, his cheeks puffing in and out as he sucked in breath, recovering from what had to be a full sprint down from the main control room, "Ms. Galfrey! We've got them on Comms! It's fuzzy as hell, but we're connected! The Magician, I think she said. She's still on the line!"


With a controlled expression, Galfrey turned to the others and nodded, "This way, please. Hurry!" And turning on her heels, she followed after the young man - back out of the hanger, into the hall and to the elevator, leading to the control room.


Inside, she found their Engineer with the comm in hand. The woman, a young, spry thing, with tight blonde curls cropped short to her chin and brilliantly large blue eye. She looked up when they entered and held the comm device high, where Galfrey retrieved it.


"Benefactor Galfrey here! You still there?"


There was a spurt of static, a burst of noise and finally, albeit fuzzy indeed, Madeline's voice came over the line, "Yes! Yes, I'm here. We're here! Hello! Sorry about the connection. We're trying to get it sorted here, but it's a mess. I mean, a big mess. There was like... gallons of smoke, just big black gobs of it, and everything's a hot mess inside, but I think we can fix it! At least, I hope we can, I mean... it'd be a whole lot easier if you guys were here and not there, but then I guess it wouldn't really matter, because we wouldn't need to get you back, but... Right! Sorry! So! Basically, we just need to... OH! Dangit! Shocked me again, snappy little... Hmm... Okay! Eddie... Erhm... The Librarian... No! Historian! Sorry... He's going to replace the broken coil, and then we should be back in business. I hope... I mean... well, it's not a guarantee, but then, what in life is, right? Well... except dying. Augh! Not that! I mean... no one! There isn't... well, Mars got hurt, but she's okay. I think... I don't really know. Taylor... shoot... uh... the... damn these names... the Warrior! She's gonna take her to the infirma-- Right! Not important! Well, I mean, Mars is important. But that's not what we need to talk about... Eddie is fixing the coils, and hopefully we'll have things up and running smoothly in no time at all! That's it! Um. Could you pass the comm to Galen? I think maybe it'd be good for him to talk Eddie through this. Not that I don't think Eddie can do it him-- Oh geez, there I go again. Galen? Are you there? Hello??"


Galfrey stood for a moment, staring at the comm, blinking, before she glanced up at handed the thing over to the other team's Engineer. She turned then to the others, shaking her head, "...How much coffee did that poor child drink?"

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Galen Nicolau


The rest of the team's reactions did not do Galen's mood any justice as he fought the urge to lose the cool and collected head he was managing. Farris was the first to go it seemed, her accent dominating her English more than ever as she demanded Hank and Galen to get to the control room. She certainly didn't have to tell him twice. He looked to Hank and nodded as Ms. Galfrey laid out the rest of the situation to them. Solutions were swimming around in his head. If they couldn't get contact now, it was likely that they'd have to do it the hard and wholly unreliable way. He could have informed one of the current members to pass a message along with one of the current members of the group in hopes that they could pass a message down the line until a memo came up in 2015's timeline to fix whatever the hell was wrong. But of course, he had to figure out what the damn issue was.


He was turning to leave the hangar when another apostle showed up in the doorway just as panicked as Galfrey. For the love of God, no more bad news. And as if his lacking faith had been rewarded, the young man revealed that the group back home had managed to gain comms again. He swallowed, so, at least one of them were okay. Things just got so much easier. He didn't hesitate to follow Galfrey and was right on her heels the whole way back. He spared his fellow Engineer a look as she handed the comm device off to Galfrey. He certainly would have liked to have had that thing first. It was no offence to this time's benefactor, but his own could be very well injured or worse and, well, she wasn't going to be able to fix.


He listened intently for a reply. To say he was relieved to hear Madeline's voice would have been beyond an understatement. He let out a sigh but still gave the control room a look over, just to make sure nothing was, visually out of place. All the while he was taking mental notes. Smoke...heat, replace a broken coil? His brow furrowed. Well if that were the case, they wouldn't even had been able to make the call. He sighed and took the comm from Galfrey. "Not enough.." He muttered under is breath before holding the device up to his ear. "Madeline? Maddy. Yes. It's me. I need you to give the phone to Edward. If you haven't already, grab up some lead aprons. " He waited a moment for the device to be handed over before continuing.


"Now, listen closely. It sounds like one or more of the coils aren't set properly for whatever reason. Likely strain from use, I'll have to give it a look once I get back. But basically you'll have to reset them so that they're upright and make sure that their connections are secure. If you can't see any you'll likely have to reach back just... be careful. Once you get that done, try firing the engine straight up again. If you need to I'll walk you through it once you're in position." He paused and looked back towards the group. "You might want to get ready to go back. If this thing is up for even half a minute I don't want us lollygagging around."

 

[Master Attano]

The news that comms had been reestablished with their team in the future came as a great relief for Jason, a smile spreading across his face as they hurried back to the control room. The ride in the elevator stifling his smile as a dozen tense people were crammed into a relatively small space. "Almost makes me miss elevator music." he muttered just as the doors opened and everybody filed out after Galfrey. The sound of Mouse's voice crackling over the handset bringing another smile to his face that was once again crushed at the news of Mar's injury, the uncertainty of the extent and seriousness of her status gnawing at him, Jason struggling to suppress an urge to grab and handset and bombard Mouse with questions.


Anxiously rubbing the frown from his head with one hand, he instead strolled over to the platform they had arrived on. "Just another day at the office aye?" he said, more to himself than to anyone around him as he lowered himself onto the platform's edge.

 

[Effervescent]

Edward Rosen


Science Division: St. JudaTadeus - The Historian

A collaboration with

@Space Cowboy Ein
​

Mental preparation was in order for the young historian. In the time that he had begun to work with the Division he had taken it upon himself to not only organize the history stored within the library and insure their missions into the past, but to understand the machine that manipulated both time and space. Galen always made it sound easier than it was to him, but the man also made it better to understand in general. Edward was thankful to hear his voice on the other line of the comm, and he snatched up his own device before grabbing a vest.


Now adorned in heavy lead and thick gloves, Edward entered the coil's chamber with his comm in hand. He listened carefully to Galen's instructions as he approached the damaged coil, heat emanating from the damaged casing that collected intensely in the surrounding area. Through the gloves he felt a small sensation of heat as he removed the bolts from the melted casing.


Once the frame was removed and set aside, he lowered his head inside to check the coil's position. "Ah, I see the...port," he said, a little uncertain with his terminology. "Is there something to secure the connection? Or is that part of the coil?"


Galen nodded. "It's part of the coil. Near the bottom it should connect with wiring to the rest of the coils. It shouldn't be too much to set it back so long as your quick. Is there anything else that you can tell? Anything that seems out of place?"


Edward reached around back and felt the base where the wiring connected. A groan escaped him as he strained to connect the coil back into place, setting it vertical and in line with the rest. "Nothing out of place," he stated as the connector clicked. "The coil just melted part of the paneling due to it being out of place. But that's not strange given the reason. What's strange is how. We've not had any earthquakes or structural disturbances other than the happening a few minutes ago. Thank all that is good this isn't an overheating issue. What could cause something like this?"


Galen nodded in slight relief as he heard the sound of the coil snapping back in place. It seemed that things would settle down for now. "Good. I'm not entirely sure why that would happen unless someone manually tinkered with it in a timeline before ours. The implications that stem from that are troubling at best." He sighed and shook his head. "We'll figure it out once we get back. This is likely something we'll want to talk to the rest of the timelines about since this is the first time it happens. For now, we should just get back home before anything else unexpectedly moves. Can you start the machine up again?"


Galen's words echoed through the metallic chamber accompanied by the soft whir and harsh clicks of Edward's power drill bolting the metal panel back into place. The action was methodical and without much thought as he honed in on his coworker's thoughts. His head nodded in agreement, and he pat the panel before leaning out of the chamber.


"Maddy?" he called out. "Start up the engine again, s'il vous plait." He pressed the button on the comm. "Thanks, Galen. We're starting it back up now. Let us know if you don't get anything on your end."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Madeline Jenner

Orloj Clocktower, Prague: Present Timeline
​

Looking to Taylor, Maddy smiled warmly and shook her head, "Best we just get Mars taken care of. Thanks, Taylor!"


Listening to the conversation between Galen and Eddie, Maddy dropped down into the swivel chair, making a face as a plume of smoke burst from the seat, curling in tendrils around her. She's be smelling that awful stench for weeks, trapped up in her nose hairs. Ugh. Who wanted to think about nose hairs? What was wrong with her, anyway? Eddie said something about the coil and she snapped out of her head, leaning down to see around him, into the panel. Of course, it was a very small panel and Eddie, while he wasn't exactly Dwayne Johnson, wasn't tiny, either. There wasn't much she could make out behind his remarkably cute little backside.


And that, she estimated, was a much more pleasant thing to think about than nose hairs. But then the chair started to tip and as she jolted back to put the feet on the floor she almost sent herself careering in the opposite direction. She caught herself on the desk, looked around, grateful that Taylor had taken Mars to the infirmary and wasn't there to witness her near disastrous pratfall. Twice in once day was really just too much.


Eddie called up to her after a few minutes of tinkering and like a switch was flicked, Maddy slid herself in front of the panel again, focused to the core. Rebooting a computer was easy. Rebooting a time machine was... well, it wasn't. But Madeline Jenner was barely phased by the complicated system. She thrived in the world of computers and machines. Her fingertips gracefully danced across the keys and the switches and toggles and within only moments, the control panel made a 'thunk' sound and the machine began to purr.


And God, it was a beautiful sound.


"YES!" She exclaimed and shoved herself back from the desk, because really, victory was the best feeling into the world. Of course, that was before the wheel of the chair hit a screwdriver, tipped backwards and sent Maddy sprawling with a squeal, onto her back. "Gah. Dangit..."


@Effervescent, @Everyonereallycausegoinghomerocks!

Marseille Aftwood

Orloj Clocktower, Prague: Present Timeline | Infirmary
​

The infirmary at the facility was very lightly staffed. The members weren't a part of the Order, they never saw the inner workings of the Clock, they never went on missions and most of the time, they never asked questions. When Taylor brought Mars in, despite the absence of Farris, who would normally handle any and all emergency cases, the infirmary technicians got to work.


Oxygen was their greatest concern, due to the amount of smoke Mars had inhaled, but also the burns on her hands and the concern as to why she passed out. Still, the factors were address to the best of their abilities, and Mars was stabilized. The heart monitor showed an irregular pattern, but stress seemed a factor and giving her some mild sedatives, they set her up in a bed, hands bandaged, with oxygen and fluids until Farris returned.


She woke for only a few minutes, her eyes half-lidded, searching the room. She found Taylor and frowned through the oxygen mask, lifting it off her face to whisper, "...The control panel?"


@Sunbather

 

[Jabroni]

Hank


Henry trudged after Ms. Galfrey and the others. He was quite hefty, and as expected of any heavyset operator, ended up straggling behind. He stopped to catch his breath halfway toward the control room. He found himself smoothing the walls with his hand. Those corridors looked strikingly familiar, as if eighty years meant nothing in the face of old stone. He thought about how little the place had changed and what difference, if any, existed in the days of the Byzantine Empire. This Tower remained resilient to time itself.


Eventually, he regrouped with the field team in the control room. Ms. Galfrey and Galen were neck-deep in conversation with someone on the other end, who sounded a lot like "Egghead Número Uno". That was one of several affectionate names he had for the science division's foremost authority on time travel. Henry swiped a hand across his forehead repeatedly, trying to increase the flow of blood there...or perhaps solely out of anxiousness.


"Thanks Galen, we're starting it back up now," the receiver emitted. Henry felt the tension in the room subside. They could go home soon. No, they were going home. He had to remain positive. Everything that is would still be, and while that meant nothing to the billions of oblivious dwellers in the present, it meant life or death here in the past. "Never thought I'd love to hear that sound," he muttered in the background. He rested a hand on Jason's nearby shoulder. "Like the weight of the world's just been lifted, huh?" He gave him a reassuring wink. If Jason still worried, he didn't show it with that bright smile on his face.


@Master Attano