Tanhony Sandbox Hub
rating: +33+x

Factor: Allison Chao (Ib)
Universe: 0912-7118-9253 (“Neverland”)
Location: Luna

Allison Chao was the first woman on the moon.

Even as her boots touched down on the lunar regolith, that fact seemed absurd to her. She was an orphan girl from Kansas — the notion that she'd be playing such a role in human history was something far beyond her wildest dreams. The moon beneath her feet, the abyss above her, the Earth visible towering above… it all seemed unreal, like something she was reading in a book or hearing about in a classroom.

And yet here she was. Allison Chao was the first woman on the moon.

"You still hearing us up there, Allie?" her operator's voice — Greg's voice — came through tinny on her radio.

The audio quality couldn't be helped, of course — this was a private venture, without the budget for perfection. No country had had an official space agency for decades now, not since the Cut-Off. If not for that, it was likely there'd be an actual adult up here, taking these steps — not a kid like Allison, barely out of her teenage years.

But she was the one here. It was her.

"Allie?" There was the slightest twinge of concern on Greg's voice.

She tapped the button on the arm of her spacesuit and spoke into the receiver in her bulky helmet. "Chao here. All fine — all readings normal. Have come down in the designated area. Will gather samples and prepare for return trip."

"Roger that."

Will gather samples and prepare for return trip. It was funny how all this — mankind's first step on the moon, the first true voyage to the stars — could be reduced down to just eight words, and still be accurate. Still, looking at all this, Allison knew that a billion words wouldn't be enough for her.

The white moonscape spread out before her, but Allison's gaze was fixed on the Earth above. That ball of green and blue and black, hanging on the void like a Christmas bauble. Every good thing that had ever happened to her, every bad thing that had ever happened to her… it was all confined to that tiny ball.

Slowly, shakily, and with all the clumsy dexterity her suit could permit, Allison Chao lifted her arm up and flipped off the Earth.

"Fuck you," she mumbles giddily, giggles infiltrating her speech. "Fuck you. Fuck you."

For that moment, that one splendid movement, she was above it all.

“Allison Chao?”

The voice that came from behind her was clearly audible — and that was what was most bizarre about it. She was bundled up in as much bulky equipment the agency’s budget had been able to scrounge together, so if there was any sound out here in space — which there shouldn’t be — it would be muffled to high heaven. This voice was a stark contrast to that, more like someone speaking directly into her ear than anything else.

Slowly, Allison turned herself around to face the interloper, and she realized that she must be dreaming.

She should have known it from the beginning, really. She’d been right: it was absurd for her to be the first woman on the moon. The thing in front of her was just her subconscious confirming that fact.

At first, the only thing she could discern about it was that it was shaped like a man, silhouetted by the distant sun. Then, the light shifted slightly and details came into focus — the man was dressed like some sort of old-timey cowboy, with a wide-brimmed hat and a tan longcoat that fluttered in an invisible breeze. Under those two articles of clothing, the entire rest of his body was wrapped in white bandages — and beneath those bandages, Allison could only see the tiniest traces of wet green skin circling two glowing yellow eyes.

It was as though the figure was something much bigger, being bound into a human shape by the tightness of those bandages.

She blinked. “I-I…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. In one smooth motion, he lifted up his arm — hand holding an antique-looking pistol — and his finger curled around the

-

Factor: Allison Chao (Resh)
Universe: The Black Moon
Location: The Black Moon


Ie … mo'j yuf. Eir mo'j yuf.
Oh … poor child. My poor child.

Allison Chao floated endless through a dreaming sea. Her eyes were closed, her body limp, her mouth slightly open — but even as she was unconscious, she was aware of her unconsciousness, watching herself sleep as though through an external camera. Her body hung in space, silhouetted by the eclipse-ring that was the Black Moon.

This was how Allison Chao slept these days.

Bl'eten kor nhus teeleen.
You are in danger.

I am?

In this place, as she slumbered, she spoke through thought — but even that thought seemed drowsy, like she were trying to run through water. The concept of 'danger' bobbed up and down in her consciousness, recognized but not really registered. She already knew that what she experienced her wouldn't be remembered in the waking world — and in that same strange way, she remembered not remembering it.

Tr'en. KHAHRAHK ebli-eshtu nos ten'resh molokoahr.
Yes. A servant of the enemy encloses around you, a serpent encircling the world.

There was no caution, no alarm, no fear in this place. It was empty, and thus so very full. There was simply no room for tactless concepts to take root.

Will I die?

Olobosh tr'en nos kural me-e-lir.
You have already died many times.

I see.

There was no direction in this place, but Allison sank downwards all the same. True unconsciousness wrapped its hands around her neck and choked the awareness out of her. It felt pleasant.

E'er mos nos ty'ul mer.
But there is no need for fear.

Io'sh mer parash tyul met.
No harm shall ever befall you.

Koro BLACK MOON.
Such is the will of the Black Moon.

Allison Chao woke up.

-

Factor: Allison Chao (Resh)
Universe: 3912-2222-9301 ("Insect Hell")
Location: Washington DC, United States of America, Earth

Allison Chao's feet came down on barren soil as she stepped through the Way, blinking blearily. It was irritating — every now and then she seemed to have a lapse of consciousness when she slipped through one of those invisible pathways. At first, she'd been concerned, but pretty soon she'd figured there was no point in worrying about it. Besides, she couldn't remember the last time she'd actually slept, so the illusion of rest was most welcome.

"You okay?" Quetzal asked, looking quizzically over her shoulder.

Her double was dressed in a purple blazer and black bell skirt — this time, two additional doll arms were latched onto her shoulder blades, the fingers of the artificial digits flexing in their idleness. In the dim moonlight, Allison could see tiny runes carved into the surface of the prosthetics.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, ignoring the question. "Couldn't you have dressed a little less conspicuously?" she snapped, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "I thought this was supposed to be a secret meeting."

Quetzal smiled, ignoring Allison's obvious foul mood — not that her mood came in other flavours. She waved a dismissive porcelain hand. "There's no need to worry about that," she soothed, in the slightly patronizing manner of a kindergarten teacher. "There's nobody else on this entire planet to notice us. You could dance around naked and nobody would care."

Allison furrowed her brow to accompany her question: "What do you mean?"

As Quetzal explained, she strolled backwards, spreading her arms wide as if appealing to an invisible crowd. "It's a simple story. Some bugs got loose, some bugs ate everything — and when they were done, they had nothing left to eat but each other. Then I guess the last bug standing starved to death, or maybe it ate itself right into nothing. Interesting story, huh?"

Moonlight came out from behind a cloud, illuminating the place they were standing. At first, Allison had assumed it to be some kind of barren wasteland, but now she could see they were somewhere very familiar indeed.

The White House loomed over them, its windows dark, every trace of green in the surrounding landscape erased. Even the flags were gone, most likely eaten and shit out by some long-dead swarm of desperate bugs years ago — but that wasn't much of a loss. Allison turned her head to look into the darkness beyond this place, imagining what the world must look like beyond.

Quetzal had said everything had been eaten, but Allison knew there were hateful, grinning things out there that would never ever die. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Miss Chao, Miss Chao," called a voice from the entrance of the White House. "A pleasure to see you've made it."

Allison turned back around. Miss Deeds, the severe-looking maid of the Black Queen that called herself Penelope Carter, had opened the doors to welcome them, curtsying in greeting. Allison narrowed her eyes — her last meeting with Carter hadn't exactly ended amicably.

Quetzal didn't seem quite as cautious. She jerked a thumb behind her shoulder to indicate Allison as she spoke: "Heya, Deeds. Grabbed Wednesday Adams over here as agreed — everyone else here yet?"

Deeds bowed her head. "With the arrival of you two, we only await Akken. Please, follow me."

Faint light sparkled through the open doorway behind her — it seemed as if the bugs hadn't had much of an appetite for Christmas lights, at least, and so those survivors had been wrapped around the length of the hallway. As Allison and Quetzal strolled through the halls, Miss Deeds continued to speak, leading the way.

"It took me and my compatriots quite a while to clear away the skeletons," the maid said lightly, clearly fishing for gratitude. "But in the end, we managed to clean up the former Oval office for your meeting. I trust your journey was safe?"

Quetzal nodded. "Stuck to crowded places as we moved through the Ways. Started at the Library, moved through a couple iterations of the Antarctic Imperialistica, took a train on Yomi Metro, then came here. If anyone was following us, they lost us."

The mere mention of the journey they'd been on made Allison's legs twinge, kilometers of travel making themselves known. She understood the necessity of it, but it didn't make things any less exhausting.

They were met at the door to the Oval Office by another Deeds — this one a young boy in a tuxedo, messy blond hair hanging over his eyes — and he opened the door for them. Miss Deeds nodded respectfully to her younger counterpart, but as they stepped through into the room beyond, Allison heard the maid furiously hiss:

"Your shirt's untucked."

The Oval Office had seen some redecoration — outside of the usual apocalyptic fare, it seemed. The desk and the majority of the furniture had been pushed away into the corner of the room, replaced with a long wooden table framed by a set of six mismatched chairs. Three of them were already occupied.

Penelope Carter, dressed in one of her trademark pinstripe suits, had apparently deigned to sit as the head of the table. She nodded at them as they entered. "Quetzal," she said. "Glad to see you could make it." Yet another of her butlers sat on her lap — the black-and-white sea slug she was gently stroking. It purred like a cat.

"I'm here too, by the way," Allison sighed.

"Of course. Allison Chao," Carter waved a hand to indicate the others present. "Meet Allison Chao."

The other two Black Queens present couldn't have been more different.

The first, off in the corner, seemed quite a bit younger than the others — still a teenager, by the look of it, with the surly glare and bad fashion sense to match. A glittery pink shirt and ripped jeans that looked sixth-or-seventh hand. She had some kind of portable game console out, fingers dancing across the glass screen as she played a rhythm game. Behind her, a featureless grey humanoid floated, its body shifting and rippling like it was made of metal sand. "Ellie," she snapped at Carter. "And we're all sick of the meet-Allison bit. Quit doing it."

"Manners," Quetzal said lightly as she walked over, taking a seat next to Ellie. The younger girl shut up immediately.

Allison couldn't deny she was curious. "You a time traveller or something? How come you're so much younger than the rest of us?"

"Fuck you," Ellie simply said in response, only to shrink back once she got a disapproving glare from Quetzal. She jerked a thumb back at the humanoid behind her. "Blame this guy over here. In the world I'm from, the Foundation's kind of the boss of everyone, and they wanted a kid to control this thing for them, since it only listens to kids. They didn't want me to age out of it, so now I don't age. Hooray. Eternal puberty. Fuck you." Another glare, another shrink.

Incredible. Allison had actually met someone more antisocial than herself. Well… kind of.

"Can we proceed?" the remaining Black Queen said, her voice an electronic monotone. "I tire of waiting."

She was clearly some kind of cyborg — one eye had been replaced entirely with a bright red prosthetic, and the other was so still and empty that Allison couldn't imagine it was real. When she spoke, she just opened her mouth and the words blared out without further movement, like a speaker. If Ellie's fashion sense was tragic, this Allison's was horrifying — a baggy blue jumpsuit, like some kind of prison garb. Servos whirred as the robot girl angled her head up to look at Allison.

"In my world," she said. "I am called Saint Lovelace. You already know we are different iterations of the same individual. There is no need for further socialization. Can we proceed?"

"Sure." This was more her kind of girl. Allison took a seat next to her.

Quetzal's doll-arm waved an admonishing finger as she leaned over Ellie's shoulder. "We're still short one, Lovelace," she said.

"I thought robots were meant to be good at counting," Ellie muttered, pausing her game and sliding it onto the table. "Iole was here a minute ago, anyway."

The expression on Lovelace's face didn't change, but the glow of her red eye intensified just a tad. "If she's not here," she said. "She's not coming. Pretending otherwise is a waste of time."

Crash.

The doors swung open with such force that one cracked, wood splintering onto the floor, and the last among their number entered. She wore resplendent black robes, pooling onto the floor behind her, and her bare arms were covered in intricate thaumaturgic tattoos. A crown of hungry red flowers hung around her head, and a necklace of twitching fingers lined her neck. She smiled easily as she took in the gathered group.

Her smile dropped the instant she saw Lovelace. "I was taking a crap, dipshit," she said, striding over, faint chirping coming from her flower-crown as he did. "Of course, you wouldn't know about that, would you? You just burp up steam or something, right?"

"I don't do that and you know I don't do that."

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