Ashlea Drury
The journey to England was comfortable, albeit smothered in a suffocating aura of nervousness, stemming from the other invited guests, who looked to have been abducted from all corners of America. Some looked within their element, whilst others seemed to jump at the smallest things, a feeling I all but accepted. All in all, there were ten of us, including myself, and I would say that I was among those most comfortable with this bizarre situation. All our needs were accounted for, food and drink, unfortunately not the alcoholic kind, were served on the plane and we didn't need to pay for any of it. Giving credit where credit is due, the served food was delicious, much better than anything I could cook, which in a weird sense, made me feel uneasy. It seemed like a bribe, and I don't know whether my skepticism was influenced by the abundance of security personnel and supposed governors whom I didn't recognise, which I found odd since I was more than familiar with those that frequented the white house. The two that invited me to this were also enjoying the luxury that the plane provided and whilst the general smiled at me with a grin that would put the cheshire cat to shame, the woman accompanying him as usual displayed the same blatant dismay for me, which made it harder to approach them, so I didn't. The journey was long and even though I caught snippets of conversation between those that were invited to the conference, most of it was conspiracy filled nonsense. I managed to nod off into a dreamless sleep and was shaken awake by the imposing form of the general.
"Wake up miss Drury, we've landed," Tyson said as he helped me to my feet.
"Thank you," I muttered back before yawning. I've heard much about English weather, but the cold shook me to the core. Rain pelted the metal roof of the plane creating a soothing rhythmic sound as we left the plane. We were quickly ushered into the airport which gave off an eerie vibe due to its unnatural emptiness.
"Due to whatever this is, England has imposed a flight ban, only authorised people can enter the country," Tyson proffered the explanation, noticing my intrigued gaze. "We will be following suit, but as England is a smaller country, it is much more simple."
"It looks wrong," I stated, looking out over the empty airport that seemed to only contain the group of us.
"I know what you mean, it looks like it should be bustling with people, but it's just silent." I nodded as we followed the rest of the crowd. We passed by coffee shops owned by large corporations, their shutters closed and locked, darkness looming like a caged being within. Displays were left untouched, though I noticed a few wandering hands from the invited guests but kept quiet as the security personnel who walked with us didn't seem to care. It took only a few minutes to traverse the airport and arrive at the exit, made all the more weird by the lack of needing to report to customs, which felt the most unusual. Outside, bright beams of yellow light highlighted the heavy downpour. The sound of engines thrummed over the melancholy of falling rain and as if in a practiced unison, three men in suits stepped out from their drivers seats and stood unflinchingly in the rain. Two stayed by the doors of their limousine, the third opened the passenger door and an aged woman stepped from the vehicle. Grey hair seemed to mold into her grey suit jacket and like the other men, didn't seem to care about the cold rain.
"Welcome to England, we are happy to receive guests such as yourselves. I hope the journey was pleas-" she sounded formal, but as she spoke, her face remained utterly impassive until a voice, Texan, shouted out over the rain, causing her to scowl.
"Who are you?" The man said and I could feel the discontent fly outwards from Abigail and it felt oddly pleasant not being the target of her scorn.
"How rude, If it's in my-" Abigail started, talking in that condescending tone of hers. She took a step towards the man, before stopping after noticing the woman raise her hand.
"My apologies, I understand that most of you don't care about the formality, I'm Valerie Carter," the Englishwoman took a slight bow, "Now, the proceedings don't start until tomorrow, so we will now take you to the hotel where you can rest up until our conference begins tomorrow at three." She gestured to the cars to her left and right, "please feel free to partake in some champagne inside the limousines." At that moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder, guiding me and a few others towards the rightmost limo, and I felt like we were being herded like animals. The thought stayed with me until another voice woke me from the unnerving thought.
"Miss Drury, you will be with me," Tyson said beaming and I suppressed a smile of thankfulness. The guard nodded to the General's request and I followed him and Abigail into the limousine that the Englishwoman had stepped from. Inside, another figure was slumped over, a pained expression in his eyes and on his face. It was gone in a heartbeat, a mask of hospitality taking its place as he held out his hand.
"Isaac Woodman, nice to meet -" he paused as he looked at me and in that moment that earlier pang of pain mixed with what looked like happiness washed over his eyes, "you." He offered his hand to me also which I shook, but the interaction felt off. His gaze was one that one usually had after seeing an old friend.
"Ashlea Drury," I muttered, "sorry, do I know you?"
"No," the words sounded solemn which seemed to cause him pain.
"Tyson Hastings," The general announced, which seemed to snap the odd man from his stupor, he offered his own hand which Isaac shook firmly. "And this is Abigail Williams," he gestured with his now withdrawn hand to the scowling woman who made no effort to seem friendly.
"Nice to meet you," Isaac stated, ignoring the woman's lack of social etiquette.
"Good to hear that you have all introduced yourselves," Valerie stated as she slid in beside Isaac, "now, as you may know General, there is a reason why we are having this chat now away from the others." I looked to the General who nodded, his face now stern. "Ashlea I take it?" Valerie asked and it took me a few moments before I realised she was asking me.
"Yes?" I asked, confused.
"I have heard from Tyson here that you were there when that building-"
"Theatre," Isaac interrupted, causing Valerie to sigh.
"When that theatre appeared, I was hoping to go over your experience in more detail." Tyson looked at me expectantly, so that was why I had special treatment.
Isaac Woodman
T2 2025 - As Ashlea recounted her time when the Theatre appeared, I found myself struggling to contain my agony. The burning sensation was more prevalent in her presence and I felt guilty for it. What should I do? Leave her out of it, lest she die like Levin and Jason. Tell her everything I know, like I did with Sebastian and his allies. Or should I use her ? like I did with - NO, I told myself as the pain reached a crescendo in the pit of my stomach, they decided to follow me on my own terms and as painful as it may be, I need to follow through with this timeline, see where these choices lead. See if Daedalus was right or not, I need to know so that I can do better next time.