The Master of Ceremonies

Emcee had packed a new suitcase. Well, not exactly new, but a weathered replica to replace the suitcase that was now somewhere on the ground by the canal, flung open, its contents scattered. Everything was easily duplicated through Bar's magic: a change of clothes, some magazines from Emcee's time, a few sandwiches, and 1930s American money -- hopefully enough to get him and Herman and Helga through the winter in New York City.

His forged identification papers had miraculously (magically?) survived the ordeal, concealed in an inner pocket of his leather coat. Just a little stained at the edges, a dried dark brown that was once red. That old leather coat underwent a bit of alteration at Jay's hand: it now has a futuristic bulletproof lining, light and barely noticeable, just as a precaution.

Coming downstairs, suitcase in hand, coat belted tightly around his waist, Emcee is more than a little anxious. The only trace of makeup he has on is dark eyeliner; the rest of his face is pale with apprehension. And vulnerability. Yet, his jaw is set, even if his clenched teeth are due to equal parts tension and determination.

Logan. Eric. Jay. Cassian. Noriko. Barry. Yrael. All seemingly casual patrons of Milliways, but when Emcee steps into the room, they move from their respective places and gather at the door. Even George, the egg-shaped little drone, Emcee's watchful companion, hovers nearby.

Before this day, they had had a meeting. Emcee showed them a modern aerial map of the area, annotating it to the best of his recollection. It's been a while since that dreadful night -- a little more than three years. It was dark. And Emcee was dying from gunshot wounds. So he might have been a little vague, but at least with time and healing came some clarity, and he was able to give his friends something to go on.

It was all Logan needed to put together a rough plan, dividing the group into teams with objectives. Eric, bored as he was, chafed at being given orders. And while Logan wasn't an authoritarian, he had no patience for anyone who might put people at risk or compromise the integrity of the mission by being a brat.

Anyone else would have better sense than to put themselves between a vampire and a wolverine, but Emcee, small, harmless, with a calm, placating look up at Eric, reminded him of the promise Emcee made to him. Their agreement.

Eric will be fine. As will everyone else.

So the day comes. Emcee with his suitcase and his leather coat and his determination. And his friends. Goodbyes have already been said, embraces already given. But even now Emcee can't help passing them without a grateful touch on the arm or squeeze of a hand, as he makes his way to the door. They all look so different and even intimidating in their uniforms from their own worlds, but Jay, who has been so supportive of him since the beginning, gets one final hug.

The uniform Logan has on is black rather than the bright yellow and blue, but the tell-tale mask is still draped back between his shoulder blades as he surveys the gathered group.

"All right, you all know the plan and yer parts in it. Priority one is gettin' Emcee an' his people on that boat. Not gettin' anyone or yerself killed is second. After that, you wanna give Nazis hell, they damn well deserve it. Just make sure you get yer ass back through that door when it's time t'pull out."

That said, Logan pulls on his mask and gives the go ahead nod.

For AU Emcee reference:

https://www.instagram.com/p/B4pSYTNJ9eu/

Emcee's room is modestly sized but neat and stylish and relatively spacious for someone who lives alone. Everything is done in shades of gray or cream or black-and-white with an art deco-esque feel, all sleek curves and symmetry, sort of like one of those impossible apartments depicted in 1940s films. The bed is king-sized, of course, with black sheets and red pillows. The smoky gray plush loveseat matches the armchair, and the thick shag rug is conveniently placed for optimal lounging (or kneeling).

A bookcase displays books (classic literature, erotica) and magazines (nature, news, porn) from his own time, and a collection of record albums, along with the gramophone to play them. There is also an incongruously modern wireless speaker system set up on one of the shelves.

On a dining table by the wall is a collection of liquor bottles: today there is gin, whiskey, rum, vodka, and red wine. Some are cheap, some are quality; it all depends on the mood and the preferences of Emcee's various guests.

And today his guest is Klaus of the newly painted fingernails.

"Come in, darling, make yourself at home," Emcee says as he invites Klaus inside.

It's some time around 3:30 a.m. when Emcee brings his merry band of friends back to the penthouse. Those who are returning to Milliways, he says auf wiedersehen to with the warmest, most grateful of embraces as he opens a door for them. Those who are sleeping over, he guides them to the prepared guest rooms and provides them with fresh towels and pajamas. There is plenty of food in the refrigerator for whenever breakfast suits them.

And then, those who are here for the orgy, Emcee leads them down the hall to the master bedroom.

The spacious master bedroom is done in calm, neutral shades of off-whites, creams, and grays, the lighting dimmed to a soft glow. There is a plush chaise lounge by the French doors, an art deco vanity table, and similarly styled nightstands flanking the ginormous party bed. Nine feet wide by nine feet long, it fits three large pillows across, or three broad-shouldered men. Running the length of the headboard is a shelf stocked with toys and party favors: various types of lube, silicone cock rings, dildoes, and plugs--some of which vibrate!--and colorful condoms of every size. Safety is important! There are also small towels and tissues on the nightstands for everyone's convenience, and the private bathroom is just to the side.

Once Emcee has pointed everything out to his guests, he lets everyone gravitate towards their preferred partners.

"Remember to share, darlings, and have fun!"


[ OOC: Some guidelines! Because orgy logistics. Any questions/concerns, PM me!
1. The first two group threads will be taking place simultaneously. Without godding, and as handwavey as you like, please feel free to have your pup notice things going on in the other group, or even bump up or brush against someone. After all, everyone will be on the same bed.
2. Muns are all in different time zones. Slowtime is our friend! And to keep the action going when others are away, let's allow up to 6 tags (depending on the action/availability) out of order before resuming tagging order. (The first three tags will set the tagging order.)
3. I will be setting up a free-for-all thread after the group threads get going. Here everyone gets a chance to be with whoever they want. Can be just pairs, or however many agree to jump in!
4. THE PARTY SHOWER. Another free-for-all type thread where anyone is free to use the ginormous main shower or the hot tub.
5. Open indefinitely! ]

The door opens on a sleek penthouse apartment, expansive but warmly lit. The tall windows and balcony on the left provide a magnificent view of the Berlin skyline at night, with all its bridges and towers and cathedrals, old and new side by side. At the far end of the room is a baby grand piano (Emcee had decided to have it moved out of the den), and to the right, a state-of-the-art entertainment system with stylish speakers placed throughout the premises for surround sound. In fact, the first thing Emcee does is turn on the stereo, and a best of Queen playlist begins to play at an ambient volume, because let's face it, all playlists turn into the best of Queen at some point or another.

"Come in, darlings, come in, and welcome to Berlin!" Emcee trills, waving his guests inside and closing the door behind them. "I am so happy you all could come. Please, make yourselves at home. There is plenty of food and liquor and more where it came from! And if there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask me or Jay, he knows where everything is. And keep in mind that he also can open a door back to Milliways-- this is his world, after all-- so if for some reason I am unavailable, he is your emergency ticket back to the end of the universe. Now, then -- eat, drink, and be merry, my darlings!"


[[New Year's Eve Party: Part II - Wonderland]]

He was called the Master of Ceremonies, an elusive figure in the East Berlin underground. With a network of what he referred to as his "boys and girls," a variety of friends and lovers alike, he set up secret dance clubs throughout the city.

One night in a parking garage; another night in an abandoned warehouse; another night in a cinema basement. Never in the same place twice within a month. Western music and such gatherings were outlawed, punishable by prison or deportation or a sound beating by the Stasi.

Emcee and his team had all they needed. A boom box, a crate of cassette tapes, portable colored lights, and a supply of liquor. The venue was scouted beforehand, checking for exits for a quick getaway if needed. Word was spread on the down low. Those on the margins of society, the freaks, the punks, the misfits, they were all welcome. For an hour or two, they would be free to be who they were.

But there was something else about these secret dance parties that posed a far greater threat to the iron-fisted regime. For not only did they provide a symbolic kind of freedom, but a literal one as well. Every so often, one of Emcee's boys or girls would give him news of a citizen needing desperately to cross the border. Using his network, Emcee would have documents forged, transportation arranged, and if necessary, protection provided.

He was actually quite skilled with a gun, and so were his boys and girls.

Emcee never lost a refugee. As far as he knew, they always made it to their destination. But he did lose a few boys and girls over the years. They simply disappeared. That was the Stasi way.

Now, in the early days of November of 1989, the word on the street is getting louder. Growing bolder. Protests jam the plazas, marches clog the roads. The Wall cannot and will not stand forever, and the people of Berlin -- both East and West -- know this. Soon, they will converge on the concrete and barbed wire. Soon. Soon.

And Emcee will be leading his dance party out of hiding, boom box held high, the music of freedom echoing throughout the city.

The only light tonight comes from the galaxies above. The stars dimly illuminate the flagstone path that winds its way through the thickly growing garden, its hedges hiding benches in secret alcoves, casting deep shadows in corners.

"I think this is a good spot," Emcee murmurs. "Sitting down or up against the wall?"

The sound of gunshots awakens Emcee in the middle of the night.

He sits up gasping, clutching his chest, his stomach. His heart pounds in his ears like a bass drumbeat, his whole being shaking with the tremors.

And in the pitch black of his room, he realizes that those gunshots were only in his dream.

It's been a year since he was shot. It's been a year since he was brought back from the very edge of death. He can still hear the sharp cracks that pierced the foggy silence, can still feel the searing pain in his gut, the warmth of his own blood that gushed through his fingers.

As Emcee tries to get a hold of his shattered senses, he cries. Hard. For hours. Hot tears mixed with helplessness and anger and desperation and guilt. Has anything changed? Was it all for nothing? He's still where he is one year later, his friends stuck in time amidst a hail of bullets.

It isn't fair.

Emcee curls up, pulling the covers tightly around himself like a cocoon. Too wound up to relax and go back to sleep, he can only run the dream over in his mind. That's what it's like to him now, just a dream. The reality that he had once survived is now all just a dream.

And then suddenly: lucidity.

Emcee sits up again, eyes wide and blinking in the darkness. It's as if the mist that hung gray and dreary over the docks that night have suddenly lifted. It's as if he can-- he can see.

He scrambles to the edge of the bed to turn on the light. He grabs a pencil and his notepad and begins to draw what he sees in his mind, quickly before it fades. The canal, the pier. Herman, Helga, the seamen, the refugees, the soldiers, the police. Where they stood, how far they were from the ship. The shed, through which Emcee had escaped.

The image becomes a sort of map, a diagram. And the longer Emcee works on it, the more he's certain that this is as accurate a depiction as he can get.

It's strange, looking down at crude pencil lines outlining the moment when you almost died.

But at least he feels better now.

And awake.

He's never felt more awake in his life. There will be no more sleeping tonight.

After a quick, cold shower, he puts on some clothes and some makeup, and he heads downstairs with his pencil and notepad. There is more work to do.

Emcee has decided to take a little trip back to Jay's Berlin. Up in his room, he packs a small bag with essentials for a few days away. Clothes, toiletries, makeup kit. Just some things to make his home away from home start to actually feel like a home.

He lifts the lid to his drone-made music box, glittering silver and blue. Somewhere Over the Rainbow plays sweetly, and he listens for a moment before picking out the special key with the glass fob on a chain. He gathers it into the palm of his hand and tucks it into his trouser pocket. After the last note of the melody, he gently shuts the lid.

A new Berlin calls to him.

***

Emcee borrows a smartphone and charger from the Bar, and leaves a note for Jay. Emcee is fairly sure he won't be missed by anyone else, but just in case someone asks, Jay will know where he is.

He then pauses at the door just long enough to use the key for the first time, trusting it to lead to the penthouse, and not a hail of bullets.

He turns the knob. Opens the door.

...It works.

With a breath of relief, Emcee hangs the key around his neck and slips through, closing the door behind him.

***

It's early evening. The wide windows let in the dusky light as the city skyline begins to twinkle awake. The expansive room is quiet, empty, incredibly still.

Emcee still feels like a stranger in it. Perhaps turning on a lamp will help? He does so, and he drapes his leather coat (can't go anywhere without it) on the back of a chair, and sets his bag down on the floor.

Actually, no, he'll bring his bag to the master bedroom. And he'll unpack it. He'll take out his clothes and arrange them in the dresser and the closet, and he'll set out his makeup on the vanity table.

There.

Music! Music is definitely missing from this scenario, so Emcee heads back out into the living room to turn on the stereo. This is a state-of-the-art entertainment system, because Jay would have nothing less for Emcee. However, there are a lot of buttons. Emcee pushes many of them in growing dismay until he finds the radio, which immediately blares out a bright and dance-y pop song that he has never heard of, but he likes it!

There! Music!

Filling the very big and very empty room.

Emcee sighs.

(He is going to have to plan a party here, and fill the rooms with life.)

He rummages through some drawers in search of cigarettes. He finds a stash of several unopened Lucky Strikes, which makes him smile. At the wet bar (he has his own bar), he pours himself a gin on the rocks, and takes his glass and cigarette out onto the balcony. It's getting darker, and the weather is pleasantly cool, with a breeze that plays with Emcee's hair.

How much time has passed since he was last here? Are Alice and Jared still waiting for his return?

He stays out there for as long as it takes to finish his smoke and drink. He doesn't think too deeply on anything in particular. It would be too overwhelming.

Right about now, in a past existence, in a past Berlin, he would be showing up at the Kit Kat Klub for his opening number.

No, that's too deep. Emcee turns and goes back inside, as if wanting to leave his thoughts on the balcony. He needs a distraction. He'll go to Wonderland.

***

After a glorious shower in that glorious bathroom, he parades around naked through his rooms as he prepares for a night out, because he can.

Tonight he'll wear the tank top with the word Delicious splashed across the front in hot pink, and a pair of tight, black, cropped trousers. His trusty old boots will do for dancing (though sometimes he wonders if there would be any harm in buying a new pair, frugal as he is). His eyeshadow is lavender, his lipstick a deep purple.

Wallet with cash in one pocket (he'll leave the credit cards behind for safety), smartphone for selfies in the other, he pats the key hanging on its chain under his shirt to check that it's still on him.

Is he ready? Is he really doing this?

Yes.

He shrugs on his coat before turning off the radio and the lamp, bathing the entire room in darkness, except for the city lights glimmering through the windows. And then he heads out into the embrace of this beautiful city, hoping it will remember him.

***

Emcee takes some detours on the way to Wonderland, just to familiarize himself with the immediate neighborhood at night. The sound of German being spoken everywhere pulls him in every direction at once, and he loves it. There are a few bars, some shops that are closing up (a bookseller, a dress boutique, a housewares store, an art supplies shop, and the like), and some cafes that are still open. Emcee can't resist popping into a bakery to buy a square of Bienenstich cake. He hasn't had any sort of dinner yet, but he's never cared about the order of things.

With the taste of honey on his lips and tongue and fingers, he makes his way around back to the street where the penthouse is -- above Wonderland, its art deco signage glowing warmly in the dark.

Emcee's excitement and anticipation builds as he approaches the nondescript door to the club. Outside, there are some party people milling around, smoking, laughing into the night air. His people, basically, and he smiles to himself.

The smile widens as he sees the bouncer keeping watch at the door.

Emcee opens the door to his room and leads Aureus inside.

The shades are up and the windows are open to the night air. The large bed is neatly made, with soft, dark linens and down pillows. On the table near the plush loveseat are glasses and bottles of wine and other liquor, and a gramophone.

"Would you like something to drink?" he offers.