GreenWolf's Overflow Sandbox

Some of you have been with the Unit for a while. You've all seen some pretty weird shit, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Maybe you've done a stint in the Backdoor and think you've got a handle on this kind of thing. Well, you've never seen anything like Three Ports. I can guarantee it.

This city is fucking weird.

The City of Three Portlands is the largest paranormal enclave in the United States — or within our jurisdiction, at least. I'm still not super clear on the semantics of this multiverse stuff. But what that means is that you're going to see things you've never seen before — things you never thought possible before. Anartists and wizards are just the tip of the iceberg. We've got cyborgs, talking dogs, demigods, ghosts, psychics, shapeshifters, faeries, and gods know what else in this town. Most of them are human, or humanish. Some of them aren't. So try to keep an open mind. We're the outsiders here.

Three Portlands is also autonomous. Independent. A self-sufficient city-state with its own city council and mayor — although nobody's ever seen the latter. We're not on US soil here. Our authority and jurisdiction only come from the Hoover Mandate — that is, because we say so. That said, we don't have the manpower or the firepower to fight the entire city, and we aren't gonna be winning any popularity contests here, so play nice — city police handle most local crime, and you should always try to deescalate back to them if you can. They've got riot golems, after all.

Our job is to keep a lid on all this weirdness. Keep it contained, if you want to use the skippers' term. There's no Doorman here, and there are more Ways in and out than you can count. Trust me, I've tried. This place is a haven for paracrime — smuggling and trafficking are near the top of the list, but I've seen everything from conceptual arson to temporal trading fraud. Like I said, this city is fucking weird. Don't be surprised if some goon running demonarcotics for the Lighthouse Mafia pulls a Soviet plasma projector on you, because that'll get you killed. Surprise is a luxury we can't afford.

The good news is that we've got some weirdness of our own. Most of our irregular agents are assigned here; odds are good you'll be partnered with at least one of them — listen to them, they know this world better than you. If you need to call in the big guns, the amount of Ways mean that MOOT can be here in minutes. And if things go really wrong, the Foundation's always looking for an excuse to get involved. Try not to give them that excuse if you can avoid it, skippers always manage to fuck things up for us.

When in doubt, act like a Boy Scout: helpful, courteous, and prepared for the end of the world.

Special Agent Kenneth Spencer
Orientation for Incoming Agents of the UIU's Three Portlands Field Office, 2015