[TCP FAN-STORY] UNMASKED

[cosmo]

Chapter Two

The TCP car was a normally sized train car, filled with miniature TCP-scale seats, luggage racks, and even dining tables stacked with TCP food. Since Finnley was on the small side, even for a TCP, they had to half slide half crawl into their seat. Once they were in it though, they found it quite comfortable with cool faux leather and plush cushioning underneath.

They looked out the window at the glittering neon cities for a bit, until they turned slowly but surely into drab swamp views. Then they turned on the TV screen embedded in the seat in front of them. The current channel showed a well-groomed Selected in a sparsely decorated but comfortable looking room. Finnley's eyespots were drawn to the shiny metal cuff-like bracelets that they wore around their wrists. The Selected was talking about what newcomers to Solitude should expect. Their speech started something like this:

"Welcome to Solitude, the greatest zone in Taverne. Whether you are fleeing the chaos of your previous zone or seeking a better life than what you had before, Solitude is the best place you can come to. Solitude has been rated the number one safest zone-"

Finnley began to tune them out, wondering if the TV screens had any less boring stations on them. As they leaned forward to see if there was any way to change the channel, they noticed a PRN logo in the lower right corner of the screen. It might not be... the most promising sign but Finnley was sure not all their shows were like this. After all, they had been recruited after the network had seen them on the Gauntlet! Surely they had seen their overwhelming star power and desire to entertain and understood that they were just what they needed to liven their network up.

Seven hours of game shows, talk shows, and reality TV later, the train pulled into the station with a whistle and a hiss of steam. Finnley stood up and stretched twice. They grabbed their luggage and went to the head of the car to meet up with their new manager, who'd introduced himself as Artisan, so they could disembark.

He waved at them as they approached. "Ready to go, champ?" he asked, beckoning them to follow. As they walked, he began to run over what to expect when they reached their destination. They would be staying in Pristine Recording Network's on-site housing, "for your convenience and ours." There they would get to know their director, set staff, and fellow show hosts. And in no time at all, they'd be on the airwaves and on their way to super stardom.

By that point, Artisan and Finnley had reached their cab. The seatbelt was obviously too big for Finnley, so Artisan just told the driver to drive extra carefully. Apparently the studios weren't very far from the station because just minutes later they pulled to a stop outside a large, blocky white building with imposing stairs leading to darkened double doors. They were here.