Ever been to San Diego California-?

It just might have been the basis for Sundown City's general makeup and topography.

For the man called Cipher -- it was like pictures of how the world used to be.  Before the advent and prevalence of fusion energy.

For Sir Mordred of Camelot -- it was bewildering.    A surreal seeming mecca with spire-like, glass and stone structures -- vaulting to what should have been impossible heights...

And for Kid Hyperion, the Valkyrie, and the Specter -- it was a fair bit like the aforementioned San Diego.  Even if they'd only beheld it in pictures. And even if their San Diego had some differences.

Yes -- the gentleman who was approaching.

Perhaps middle twenties, average height, no remarkable build; sandy colored hair with a short, same-shade beard.  A pair of shades every bit as inscrutable as the Specter's own.

He was dressed in casual, comfortable clothes, the cut and color of which wouldn't likely impress on anyone's memory.   And he was carrying a cooler...
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:44, Mon 15 Aug 2022.

"Hey there folks -- I'm Dollar Bill, but I think you know that much --"   

Setting the cooler down, his sunglassed gaze caught on one particular member of the group.

"Holy damn --  Val?  I -- I didn't know, had no clue you were along!"    He paused, and there was that in his demeanor that suggested hesitancy, perhaps a bit of anxiety too.

"That's -- a different look for you!  Somehow kinda perfect, though."  He gestured toward the cooler.

"So. Anybody want a coke?  It's the good kind; glass bottles, and real sugar!"

Despite himself Cipher crouched low to steady himself. Once the worlds stopped spinning and his senses attuned themselves to his new environment, he gingerly rose to his feet and exhaled loudly, “Incredible.”

Dollar Bill’s arrival snapped him out of his reverie and his familiar wariness returned. When Bill addresses Valkyrie, Cipher merely turns to watch her reaction.

Mark's handlers had raised him with good manners. But they had also raised him without sugary drinks. There was a split second in which he nearly declined the offer, but then he graciously accepted the bottle of Coke.

"Thank you," he said, and popped the bottle cap off with a flick of his thumbnail. He looked around for a place to throw it away, and eventually settled for dropping it back into the cooler. "I've never had one of these before."

He took a swig, rolling the soda around on his tongue. He was amused by the fizziness. He was invulnerable to bazooka fire, but his nose was apparently ticklish. The taste, however, was... different. He couldn't describe what it tasted like, as it didn't really taste like anything else he'd ever had. It was sweeter than anything he'd ever had before, but the actual flavor was just cola, whatever that was. Mark wasn't sure if he liked it or not, but he was glad of the chance to find out.

Bill eyed the Kid for a moment - or appeared to; it was impossible to say for sure with the shades - and then remarked:

"Alright.  Well, you know, there's a first time for everything; I'd never had Dr. Zing before I ended up here.  Now I drink way too much.  My dentist just warned me to cut down." 

"Well.  Out the gate, let's do a little Orientation 101."  He indicated the general expanse of the place with a hand.

"Looks like you're on a planet, right?  But you're not.  The space here is finite, and recursive.  You travel a quarter mile out of the city, any direction - including out into the water - and you end up at the opposite side, at the same distance.  Upward is the exception to that rule --  for you fliers, you can get about four and a half miles altitude.  And past that point, it'll feel like you're still gaining, but when you look down, you'll see you're not."   

He procured a soda for himself, removed the lid, took a swig.

"Now, it may ease your mind to know you've arrived in a spot where folks typically come in. Five at once is unusual, for sure -- but doesn't break any records."    Bill had a second sip.

"And, it's normal for there to be a greeter.   Some of us - like yours truly - develop a kind of sense for impending arrivals, and actually get paid to do this, in fact.  It's one reason the Doc chose me, over a few others.   Nothing about this is too out of the ordinary for an Arrival."   
This message was last edited by the player at 19:03, Tue 16 Aug 2022.

"Does that mean that others might have sensed our arrival as well?" Mark asked. He had no idea who Doctor Zing was, but he figured he'd ask later. The safety of their arrival was paramount. And just because someone sensed their arrival, it didn't mean he'd necessarily show up with a warm welcome and cold soda. Someone else might see their arrival as a potential threat to be eliminated. "Such as the enemy we've been engaged to deal with?"