My Internship With The Necroconsortium

[Endboss Empress]

"Congratulations, [NAME IRRELEVANT]! You have been selected for membership in the Necroconsortium Prodigious Inhabitant Internship reward for your scores on the Truelife Reserve Bi-Decade Aptitude Tests! Report to your nearest train station on Standard Day 207, Hour 11, and present this letter and your identification. You and your luggage will be brought directly to Necroconsortium Headquarters via the Personnel and Supply Rail! Please bring no more than two bags, one of which must be carry-on. All luggage will be carefully inspected before and after you arrive at HQ. Failure to arrive at the designated time will result in swift Asset Confiscation of your corpus under Truelife Citizen Regulatory Ordinance 1929."

It had been just as the letter said. A visit to the ticket booth, a quick escort by armed guards, muted horror watching said guards ruin your carefully organized packing, and immediate cramming into a train car with three other people who didn't seem much older than you. There was a moment of silence, as you stowed your carry-on and tried to sit down without nearly touching someone, but it was difficult work. Still, the young woman you're sitting next to seemed unbothered by your presence.

"New intern, huh?" another person asked, this one a catkin across from you who couldn't stop scratching his exposed forearm. Beastkin were rare around these parts, but not so rare that you had to gawk.

"Obviously." the human next to him said, arms crossed behind his head. He seemed dangerous in a way that defied description, cropped brown hair crowning a serious and scarred expression. He may have been almost pretty but for the obvious signs of a consequential zombie encounter.

"Whatcha going for?" the blonde next to you asks, giving you an almost glimmering smile. Too clean, too peppy... you wondered how someone from the Management Class had wound up in your neck of the woods. Still, she seemed nice enough...

The Necroconsortium had a lot of undead, and a lot of ways to create them and keep them in check. There were a lot of roles to "go for", and you wouldn't actually have to make a choice... or have it made for you... for a little while. Still, you had to imagine the Necroconsortium was in some way listening in on the train. You could probably put your finger on the scale if you at least name a specific department...

CHOOSE A DEPARTMENT?
>REANIMATION
>OCCULTISM
>REQUISITION
>CHOOSE LATER

[Lucy]

oh god oh fuck your carefully packed collection of rubber duckies you're going to be on edge for days now you need to choose later, choose later when youve built your shrine. Quickly, say this and say it so so good.

[Headful_of_Eyeballs]

Reanimation- My parents were reanimators, so i have to follow in their footsteps.

[Endboss Empress]

Reanimation- My parents were reanimators, so i have to follow in their footsteps.

That's right! Your parents WERE reanimators. They were pretty good at it too, until...

For a few horrible moments, you go back to Take Your Child To Work Day.
 

oh god oh fuck your carefully packed collection of rubber duckies you're going to be on edge for days now you need to choose later, choose later when youve built your shrine. Quickly, say this and say it so so good.

Overwhelmed by remembered panic, you fumble for the first thing you can think of to steer the conversation away.

"My ducks! They messed with my ducks, so I don't really know!" You begin, eliciting three perfectly unified confused stares.

"..........huh?" The foxkin finally asks, your outburst the only thing so far that's stopped him from scratching the same spot on his arm.  Your mind slows down and you replay the last couple seconds.

".......................books. I brought books, not... not ducks. It was... last minute reference material. For the choice." You correct, pallid face filling in with some pink as your embarrassment rises.

"That's a shame!" the woman next to you says, seemingly more amused than anything. "Could you imagine? Some guy showing up to Intern Orientation with luggage full of rubber ducks or something?"

"Have you seen some of the nepo babies from HQ?" the dangerous man asks, smirking. "Probably got some dumbass with a desk job who brought exactly that."

It seems that the question of your career trajectory has been skipped for the time being. As the train sets off, the other three interns-to-be quickly settle into breezy conversation about nothing in particular. You tune out for a moment, contemplating what just happened and where you're about to go. Your Truelife Settlement was far enough away that even high-speed rail would take a few hours to reach HQ, and you wouldn't be reaching the Grazing Fields for a while either. You could read, but with how quiet everyone has to be in the field, you'll just read then.

So. Conversation with your fellow interns. A daunting proposition, considering you know none of these people, but the airy nature of the chatter suggests they also don't know each other. Right now, the two men across from you are all but interrogating your seatmate about what the cafeteria situation looks like at HQ, apparently assuming the managerial cafeterias are comparable.

"Dessert? Managers get DESSERT with their dinner???" the foxkin all but yells in obvious shock and frustration. "Once a month us Truelifes get ONE cellophane wrapped cookie. And if we complain, they don't let us take one next month."

"Yeah, it sucks. You guys deserve a mediocre boxed pie slice with your dinners too!" the manager scion immediately agrees, tone so obliviously sincere it hurts. "But my point is I don't think you can, like, expect much more than manager chow as an intern? We might get good cake if it's, like, a supervisor's birthday?" she suggests. "Our cellophane cookie was getting the week old supervisor cake."

This conversation appears to be winding down. You could try talking to one specific intern, or you could try and find a topic to converse with the whole group about. Of course, if you're REALLY desperate to avoid talking to these people, you could also start reading early.

[Guest]

You need to impress them with your extensive knowledge of instant noodles and how youre excited for a chance to eat them.

[Endboss Empress]

You need to impress them with your extensive knowledge of instant noodles and how youre excited for a chance to eat them.

You decide the food conversation still has some legs to it, and break out the trivia.

"Yknow, I hear they've just got unlimited instant noodles at HQ. All the flavors." you say. "I guess some big shot researcher won't do his all-nighters without a steady supply. He got so tired of sending interns to buy more that he just bullied the higher-ups into getting the stockpile." This factoid causes the dangerous man to let out a low whistle.

"Damn, every flavor? Nice." he says, obviously impressed. "Back in my settlement it was three flavors every month, one cup a day."

"That's standard, I think." you add. "I hear they use a literal number generator to determine which settlements get which flavors. I used to pray at the end of each month for Krakenink Surprise to show up again."

"Gross." he concludes, though he smiles lightly at you. "But then, I love the Marinara Motherlode flavor, so I guess I'm a big ol' hypocrite."

"I'm gonna eat nothing but Lithospice Delight noodles and gain thirty pounds." The foxkin announces, tone only half-joking. "And it'll be worth it."

The manager gives you all odd looks.

"This is a really depressing thing to be excited about." she says, tone pitying. You immediately decide that this is a person who hasn't experienced the glory of a piping hot Johnsonton Quiknoodle, and resolve to teach her what she's missing out on.

Suddenly, shutters slam over the cabin window, and the door locks with a heavy click. Phlogiston lights fizzle to life overhead as you begin the diciest part of the journey. Even the heavy shutters fail to keep out the groans of the Grazing Fields' hordes, though they reduce the deafening din to more of an unpleasant rumble.

Outside, the undead swarmed, penned in by arcane wards, sustained by supply drops of whatever viscera the Reanimators couldn't make use of. The train was itself warded, but too much noise from anyone could be enough to draw the crowd's wrath, and not even an HQ Train could fend off all the nightmares outside.

"One last thing..." the manager says, voice lowering to a whisper. "What's everyone's names?"

"Alex." the foxkin says, drawing a battered game console from within his carry-on.

"Thorpe." The dangerous man says, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Ozzy." you say.

"And I'm Ingrid. I look forward to working with you all." she adds, shooting you all a beaming smile before opening a notebook and beginning to scribble away.

Now began the waiting game. You had three books to read, and based on distance, only enough to read two. So, what's your plan?

>THE DISCIPLINES, a formal guide to the three primary "fields" of the Necroconsortium's research
>FIELD GUIDE TO NECROLIFE SPECIMENS, which covers the primary forms of undead you may expect to encounter
>THE LITHOHISTORIA, a history of the Necroconsortium and brief overview of its leadership

[Headful_of_Eyeballs]

I should read 'The Disciplines'- All the knowledge i have on necromancy comes from reanimation, so expanding my skillset would be a perfect idea