SILENT HIL PLOT: FOG EDITION

[yardbird]

CHARACTERS: ALL OF YOU SICK-MINDED MOTHERFUCKERS.
LOCATION: THE TRANQUILITY: FOG-WORLD EDITION.
WARNINGS: SURE IS FOGGY HERE, HUH?
(Also, you know. Horror. In space. With Silent Hill. That's always a recipe for Friendship Is Magic, right?)
SUMMARY: WELL, YOU'RE PROBABLY JUST WANDERIN' AROUND
WHEN SOMETHING DRAWS YOUR ATTENTION,
YOU CRASH INTO THE GROUND AND THEN YOU WAKE UP
IN A PARALLEL DIMENTION...

OOC: Okay! To make this easier, I am going to split this up into two catch-all logs. This event takes place within the span of September 26 through October 3rd, so maybe include the day in the subject line. If you plan on shifting between the worlds in the middle of a thread, it might be a good idea to add a link when starting a new thread in the other log (but it's not mandatory. Do whatever works for you!).

Characters who wind up in the fog world will either find themselves simply waking up to it, or walking when suddenly it becomes strangely more difficult to navigate the hallways. Hmmm... the lock is broken, you cannot open it. What more, they will find that their devices aren't working properly. The video feed is mostly snow. Audio kind of works, though! So you're free to give that a whirl.

Those who were not drawn in by the siren call of Silent Hill will not be able to physically interact with any of the characters stuck in the fog or Otherworld. To those in the real world, they simply vanished, and may find traces of them via unclear radio static on the communicators or catch ghostly glimpses of the missing people wandering the ship. But that's it. Ooh, spooky...

Monsters can appear in the fog world, but there are significantly less of them. You're probably likely to only run into a few of them. Other than that, you're almost safe here. Almost. Things are just unsettling and foggy and doesn't look quite right. But you never know when things might transition into the Otherworld, so be careful.

By the by, now might be a good time to stock up.

For information/questions, refer to this post.

THAT LOG WITH LOTS OF NIGHTMARES AND OTHERWORLD STUFF GOING ON

Comments

September 26 | OTA

[yardbird]

[ooc: Continued from here:]

Cue more screaming as Murphy dropped from the shaft, only to plummet, arms flailing, through the dark gratings and corroded walls. Suddenly, there was none of that. Only a ceiling, and a clouded area with rising steam. But the way he fell, you'd certainly think he just dropped a great distance...

That was all fine and dandy, because it sure was convenient to have this squishy cushion (that wasn't really a cushion at all) beneath him break his fall... Didn't mean that he didn't hurt like something made of sharp and metal and nasty things had just chased him down the lift, though. Murphy was definitely feeling that.

He groaned, rolling off of the "cushion" and onto his back, hands over his face. "Shiiiit..."

This was the worst. The actual worst day on the Tranquility. And Murphy here didn't like it any more than the person he'd really just landed on.

Re: September 26 | OTA

[receiving]

[ooc: Prior to arriving here]

He'd been walking the gore-soaked hallways of the ship for some time, there were no monsters, but the sounds, the sounds are what haunted him. He swore he could hear the ghosts of Walter's victims in those pathways. Quiet, subtle even, but Henry could make out those antagonized voices. Gradually they continued to grow louder until Henry reached a dead end.

And on the wall of that dead end was a hole.

Again, Henry entered it, the world around him grew dim, as did his vision. He never made it to the end of the hole awake.

It wasn't until he felt something land on him did Henry jolt awake in fear and pain. Regaining his senses, Henry knew something fell on him, and body throbbing with the impact, he tried to figure out what. Then he heard the voice. Sitting up, Henry could now see that he was in a room shrouded with what appeared to be steam. Looking up, he could see a ceiling, but all around him was the steam. It didn't look as though there was a way out. Ahead of him, he could make out the vague appearance of a figure lying on the floor, casually swearing in either shock or pain. Perhaps both.

That must've been what fell on him.

September 26 | OTA

[showbizpanache]

[It's kind of like when that fear gas hit--but that doesn't make Kurt feel any better, any safer about any of this. This time he feels more alone than ever, wandering through the thick fog with nothing but the echoes of his boots and eerie silence trailing after him.

I can't be all alone, he keeps telling himself. There has to be someone around. He isn't about to go calling out, though. Instead he just keeps moving slowly, steadily-- His foot hits something solid and he gasps, flinching.

It's a flashlight. Carefully he lifts it up and switches it on--it works. Thank god. Now to try and find his friends.]

[dirtyword]

[ Brendan taps Kurt on the shoulder. Maybe because he's surprised he's crept up on the other, sure, but mostly because he knows he'd want the same decency if someone else were to sneak up he'd want the decency for the other to let him know. It's only fair.

He says nothing--just grabs a health drink from his pocket and throws it at the other once he's turned, hands back in his jacket immediately. Hunched over, seemingly uncaring. There's no flashlight, only him. ]

September 26 | ota

[hejhej]

[It started when Lisbeth opened her door that morning. It was down below her feet so she didn't notice it until she walked down the hall about two yards. It started to get colder and now the whole hallway was filled with fog. What was it exactly? The oxygen garden didn't make fog. Was it a gas then? Were they being gassed and killed?

Lisbeth's heart began to race. That's when she noticed how quiet it was - the only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat in her ears.]

Alex Shepherd's Fog World | Sept. 26th | ota

[unsoldiered]

... The fog is a dead giveaway, an ominous reminder of the past. When he'd moved to open his door then, he heard it—the sound of water, a dock, the ring of a lake he'd tried to push out of his memory. He backed up, slammed into the wall, tried to control the sounds of panicked breaths. No. No, no, no. His eyes, wide and horrified, scan downward and immediately he takes note of the crumpled, soaked picture on the floor. The picture of his parents and brother, standing on the shores of Toluca Lake. His axe is leaning on the wall next to it, as if being told wordlessly take it.

"No fucking way, no fucking way-"

He swallows everything up and grabs the axe. That's when he hears the wet, ragged sound of something down the hall, beyond both mist and darkness, a ribbit less befitting of a frog and more befitting of a bubbling creature gargling blood and liquid ash. That's when he backs away, the tempered strength he'd had so many times lost on him in the despair and terror that suddenly rattles his bones. There's a crunch, a cry like ripping tissue, and then—

Metal, heavy, dragging along a floor. Metal that he remembered and always would.

He turns and runs. And he keeps running, hitting doors as he goes, screaming for them to open up, to open the fucking door, it's happening again, it's happening and they're gonna be taken—

fuck, fuck. no. please, not this time.

A door finally opens and he barrels through it, only to end up on his knees, in his own room.

It only takes him a moment of staring in frozen surprise before he starts tearing open his closet with steadier hands, retrieving what needs to be retrieved. The journal. The radio. The gun. His mind forces the thought of dying in his head, but he refuses and remains icy as he reloads the handgun and walks quickly out of his room.

Is it just him? No, it can't be. Would Murphy be around? Heather? Is he just paying for things now, for something he probably very well deserved? He's not sure, but he has to see what's become of the people here. Even if Silent Hill wouldn't cooperate with him, he had to try.

frodo baggins | september 26/ota

[ringbearer]

[ he doesn't like it. this fog. it's too eerie, and from it could come anything. they could not find me here. not even they could hope to find me, we are too far up, his eye could not reach.. it's all thought in a feeble attempt to assure himself, as the hobbit looks around him, holding what appears to be a sword shining faintly in the dark. if only he had a torch to light his path. ]

Legolas?

[ his voice is faint, daring not to speak too loud as the hobbit walks the halls, stumbling a little as he reaches for the wall for in this shadowy fog how easy it could be to slip. the longer he walks in it the more uncertain he becomes. careful walking into him or he mights swing that sword at you.]

[goldshirt]

[he sees the light, and for one wild moment Kirk thinks of every fable about lights and fog and leading you to your death. it doesn't scare him, but it's sure fucking eerie- until he hears the voice.

the anxiety flees him in a rush and he lowers his phaser.]

Frodo!

[unforgives]

[it was hard for emily to make out anything as she was trying to make her way back to her room. the fog itself practically came out of nowhere from inside the ship so that in itself was concerning and yet emily was unphased by it for the most part.

she does hear a voice though along with the footsteps of someone approaching she tries to call out to whoever it was] Hello? Is anyone there?

Sept 26/ota

[goldshirt]

[it had only been a matter of time, Jim knew this. he was just damn glad the wraith feeding had happened early enough to circumvent any weakness on any of the volunteer's parts.

Kirk makes his way through the halls, both hands wrapped around his phaser and stepping lightly. he can hear footsteps, can hear running, but he can't see anyone in this damn fog. under normal circumstances, he'd keep his mouth firmly shut, because god only knows what could be hiding out there- but he knows there are others on his floor, and they could be just as lost as he is, so he calls into the gloom:]

Hello?

[learnedtosmile]

[Blake doesn't know what's happening, but he does know it's his job to do whatever he can to help keep people safe - and maybe figure out what the hell is going on so it can be stopped.

Much like Kirk, he's been moving about the ship, alert to any signs of life in the fog, hands on his gun just in case - and thank god for that shooting practice with Wichita, at least it hasn't been six whole months since he fired his weapon.

When he hears the voice, he answers immediately:] John Blake, security. Do you need help?

Re: Sept 26/ota

[meddler]

[ This was definitely new, and the Doctor was more than determined to get to the bottom of it.

Or rather, the Doctor was more than determined to get to the bottom of it once he found a few select people, or at least knew they were safe. After all, mysterious fog on a spaceship never boded well. Actually, mysterious fog in general never boded well, so having it on a spaceship made it all the more suspicious.

So when he hears that voice, he echoes back to it. ]

Hello out there!?!

[ Definitely not Amy or anyone else, but it was something of a start, wasn't it? And the voice sounded familiar enough.

Or at least as familiar as it could when one has spoken to another all of once. ]

[gothchicklit]

[ October's not an idiot. She may not know exactly what's going on around her, but she knows that fog - especially this much - on a ship that has never had fog before (as far as she knows) is a bad sign. Something's up and while she'd certainly love to stay locked in her room until whatever it is comes to an end, even if it means staying there for a week, that requires finding her room.

The first thing she does is stop walking even though it increases the likelihood of someone literally running into her. If she keeps wandering, she's going to get even more lost. She pulls her comm out of her pocket and tries to connect to the network, but it doesn't work. Even after hitting it against her hand a few times, it won't give her anything but snow (and how weird is that?) so she puts it away again.

When she moves to take another step, her foot hits something that scrapes across the floor. Just as she's reaching for it, she hears someone's voice call out and she freezes, fingers just barely touching the blade of the knife. She glances over her shoulder and squints, but the fog's too think to see through and over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, October can't make out the voice. ]

Who's there? [ Stupid idea to respond, maybe, but she's got the knife in her hand now, so at least she's armed. ]

/casually tags all of your things

[bottlearum]

[Fog isn't exactly unusual to Jack. The seas have a tendency of fogging over in the early mornings, and it's just another part of home that Jack misses. However, it's never once been this bad, bad enough to not see anything past the hand in front of his face.

He's got a hand on his sword as he wonders the fog. Almost a year on this ship, and he knows enough to wander around without any sort of weapon to keep himself safe, should something attack him again.

He himself does keep quiet, until he hears a voice calling out in the fog. It's a vaguely recognizable voice, and he frowns for a second, trying to place it before calling back.]

Oi! Whose there?

Sept 29 / for ALAYNE

[grandseigneur]

[Hook can still feel the waves in his ears, pulsing behind his demon-red eyes, and he curses heavily as he shakes off the vestiges of salt water, sea weed and bile. he is bleeding across his left arm, a curdled yellow, and it is lucky that he misplaced his good jacket before this nightmare had even begun because otherwise he would have nothing to wear.

his gaze scans the fog, searching angrily for the pirate with whom he had crossed paths. Jack Sparrow, it had been his doing, that dilapidated ship and all it's monstrosities. they must have been separated just before they broke free, and Jas would spend more time deliberating this fact if a sound didn't catch his attention.

a tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock.

his grip on his blade tightens violently, and though fear had not found him previously, now it makes heart hammer like a bird against his chest.]

The Croc. [he murmurs, carefully making his way forward.]

[wont]

[ Out of chaos and war and death, Alayne turns a corner and stumbles into fog. Thick and impregnable, it is a physical weight upon her face and her clothes, a tangible touch upon her face (misty fingers brushing her cheek like so many cobwebs). Her first reaction is to brush it off and away, to try to shirk out of her own skin for fear that it's been attainted by so many grasping hands. But no— that is Winterfell and its puddles of vile black, Winterfell with its moaning dead and its shrieking walls. This place here it seems almost serene in comparison, this place being—

Was it the ship? Had Alayne been finally returned to the Tranquility?

But no, why then was the air thick as a swamps, why did it unsettle her to breathe and to move through (however cautiously). There is still an ache above her eye from when Marillion had tried to savage her, the wound still fresh and weeping above her brow. The blood has staunched enough to blind her, but even here the pain is undeniable. Had it not been a dream then? Did she dream still?

Gathering her skirts, now rendered laden and vile, she touches the wall with one hand and slowly slowly begins to make her way down the corridor. There was no indication which way was best, which direction promised safety. But to remain still when there was nowhere to hide — surely that was equal folly.

Was that— in the distance, the sound of movement or chatter? No, no, Alayne realizes, moving towards it now. Simply a tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. ]

Sept 26 | OTA

[talkstoengines]

[Space can be a scary, dangerous place. Kaylee has been in space long enough to know that. She's seen reavers, been shot, had her life threatened more than once. Mostly, though, it's people that do all that bad stuff. Mostly it's people she can see.

This, this ain't people, at least not as far as she can tell. That's probably the scariest part. There ain't no way a ship can just get foggy like this, no way that she knows of, and she knows ships. Knows how they work. She said when she first arrived that Tranquility didn't feel quite right, and that's increased by ten, now. This just ain't right.]

Simon? [Her voice is smaller than she thought it would be, but maybe that's for the best, anyway. Could be something a lot scarier than Simon running around out there. Still, she just wants to see a friendly face.]

[coffeeking]

Kaylee?

[Ianto had come out to investigate the fog and gotten turned around in the corridors. Kaylee's voice is familiar even if they'd only talked briefly, a sweet cadence to it different from any other person on the ship. The trepidation in her voice is understandable under the circumstances, and it's with a sinking heart that Ianto realizes this is probably another of the ships tricks, and it'll be the first for Kaylee.]

September 26 | Narrative

[circumitus]

She was alone. Nothing new there; Rey was always alone. She woke up alone, fell asleep alone, walked around alone. It never bothered her before. If nothing else, the familiarity was a sense of comfort and knowing.

Then why, for some ungodly reason, did this sinking feeling amplify tenfold just now?

Because she'd been here before. The hallways were wrong. Everything was wrong. Every corner turned, every area she visited, it was all the same. No doors, no windows. Just blank, empty spaces that followed her forwards and backwards.

This was not the first time this had happened. There had been an incident that felt so long ago that someone else might've experienced it instead. If it wasn't Rey, then it was a woman who had been wandering these same exact halls, who looked and sounded much like her. This woman got herself lost for some time. How long, she didn't know. Her communicator worked. Did it now?

...Yes, it worked.

Good.

She looked around, checking the next empty corridor, and...

Strange. The deeper she went, the smoother the walls became. Everything blurred in this mist that rose up from the ground. It was like she was in Engineering, but she wasn't anywhere near that place.

Rey took a moment to stop to pay heed to the first sound she'd heard in some time. Whispers in the walls:

Salamander.

She turned. Something was already behind her.

A woman. Her face was erased. A mask folded over it. The woman twisted her mostly-bald head, before whipping her hand to Rey's throat and squeezed.

Rey was strong. She tried punching the masked woman in her stomach, but she did not falter. Her eyes rolled over to the top of her head. Her breathing faded, and so did any thought process that she might have had after that...

[ooc: Follow the yellow brick road...]

sept 26| ota

[entrapments]

[ the fog creeps. it's something insidious- crawled in slowly and in all honestly, Hayley's plan had been to get a glass of chocolate milk and go back to freaking bed. she's tired. she'd decided to volunteer to feed their giant alien sea monkey and still has the impression that she's been hole punched but come on already.

not that Batman wasn't a cool consolation prize, and not that she didn't kindof know that this was coming- she'd only just commented upon the relative peace the ship'd offered them lately-

but fog? really?
that wasn't going to mean anything promising.

her weight sags, and Hayley takes a moment to feel totally exhausted, to close her eyes tightly- before her shoulders square. one hand lifts, and Hayley pinches the bridge of her nose, exhales slow. ]

This is so totally the last thing I need right now.

[ alright. if the fog machine gone wild was any indication, she was going to be seriously short on visuals. she needs to find a weapon and she needs to get moving. pronto. ]

[resurgent]

Tell me about it. [ Allison throws back. it comes before she can reconsider creeping up on someone when they believe they're alone. she doesn't know what floor they're on anymore but she heard something. yeah, rule number who's counting: never follow a strange noise, or you die. but all she's been doing is chasing shadows on this ship, when she's not trying to dodge them. they call to her and she's powerless to ignore them, here where she's terrified that she's more alone than she's ever been.

if she thought she was weak before, then she's going to be immobilized on what it feels like when you need someone to fall back on (not because you can't fight) but because she can't fight the world on her own.

shifting, holding her flashlight steady, looking back in the direction of the lift, she has to know: ] Is this like a regular once a month simulated space weather deal or...?

[ or do i really not want you to finish that sentence? ]

Sep 26~30th | ota

[walksonrooftops]

[At first, he thinks the fog must be some kind of malfunction on the ship. But he's no engineer, so he wouldn't know how to fix it, but at least he can try and find it to notify the proper authorities, find someone who can.

He tries to use his device to call on someone else, but finds his feed staticy and choppy--and he remembers the room from months ago, the room with the bodies and the red smile. He wonders if this is the same thing, and immediately gets his guard up even more. His footsteps echo harshly in his alert ears, louder than they should be, the sound hollow and tinny as if he is gradually beginning to walk on something not quite solid. Not the way the ship should be.

But where is he going? He doesn't recognize this hallway at all.

After what could be minutes or hours just as easily--time felt odd here, out of synch with itself--he heard a voice. It was a gentle, familiar voice, calling his name. Once. Twice. A woman's voice. She's weeping.

He remembers pulling gently at a skirt with a clawlike hand when he was a child; he said "Don't cry" and she just said "Asato" and scooped him up in her arms and--]

Kaya?

[And with that, his pace picks up. He's not looking where he's going anymore in his attempt to find where that voice is calling from, amid the fog, so others wandering the hallway would to best to be on-guard for six feet of Ribika coming their way.]

Who's there?

we're going with the start of the event~

[angerissues]

[ Mason's normally got his guard up, so when he finds himself suddenly engulfed in fog, his paranoia and alertness hits a high he didn't even realize he had. He draws his gun from the back of his jeans but keeps it low in front of him; his reflexes are good enough the he doesn't need it aimed and ready to shoot, especially since he has no idea what could be coming out of that fog.

Like the six foot figure - could be taller, it's hard to tell in this thick fog - running towards him. ]

Stop! [ His fingers tighten around the handle of his gun, arms straightening and ready to lift - and shoot - if the figure keeps coming. It feels ridiculous to say it, especially if it's not a passenger but a monster instead, but he tacks on, ] Stop or I'll shoot! [ Best to give whatever it is a warning, right?

(In the back of his mind, Mason finds the fact that he sounds like an actual cop almost as strange as the fog, but it's not what's important right now.) ]

sept 30 |

[firstofficer]

[ it is impossible to forget the fall, the crumbling of the planet's surface beneath him and of the captain's final, defiant shout. but no sooner had the rock broken beneath him, than Spock was able to find it. that thread within his mind- the fabric holding all things together, tying memory to fear, intertwining hopelessness and grief and guilt.

he is not healed. he does not feel distanced from the tragedy he has known, and that which he has relived- allowed to become not simply spectacle, but stage for those he has come to know. but there is a new awareness that spreads through his consciousness. an understanding that soon, will require his full attention. time, and devotion.

but neither are things he may offer at present.

Spock's feet find the floor without stumble, and despite the density of the fog that surrounds him, he is certain that he is on the Tranquility. that he has never left. instead, he had allowed himself to become compromised by yet undefined circumstance, and his negligence may have resulted in significant injury. his heart does not race, but his mind does. there will be time for it later- for this vast yawning emptiness that tightens his throat, and when that time comes, he will allow it to take him, and he will rise from it.

right now, he must find the others.
Captain Kirk, Lieutenant Sulu, Tony Stark, and Arya he had seen. and they are who he must locate. ]

[leaps]

[ sulu thinks that it's the fall that does it. he jumps and he misses ( fails, fails, fails ) and the planet swallows him and kirk both. it's a twisted parody of that first time, the two of them plummeting towards sudden death only this time nothing had saved them except--

except it jolts sulu out of it.

this isn't the enterprise and for one long, crushing moment the disappointment threatens to overwhelm him. he trips over himself, propelled forward by phantom momentum to land hard on his knees, gasping in pain. everything's scraped raw, palms and knees bloody from collision with the rock. he's willing to bet there's bruises on his face still, newfound scars forming even as he gets to his feet.

( spock's head is a force to be reckoned with. sulu's going to remember that. )

like before, like on vulcan, he shouts out, screams out for anyone at all because being alone in all of this is just not something he can stomach. ( kirk and spock, where are kirk and spock? not dead, please not dead, it can't have been real... ) ]

OTA 28th onwards

[anthropos]

[ When the Otherworld takes Data, it takes him for several days, then deposits him back in the fog world, transformed.

Data does dream, but rarely, and those dreams were usually transformations of his memories, obscure concepts wrought into images that could be examined in a variety of different ways. Sometimes he remembered days, his positronic mind taking them in ways they hadn't originally progressed. If there was one solid thought engrained in his mind, irrefutable, it was that he cannot harm people.

And so his nightmare had transformed him into something which could.

There was nothing that resembled human left, everything Borg, and yet he was as individual as the Queen, with the mind of the hive, its knowledge - as it had been then - ever present beside his own identity. Never mind that the Collective didn't exist on the Tranquility; for now they existed inside of him, and he stalked the corridors seeking to add to that collective, armed with nanomachines and one single, glowing red eye, a remnant imagery lifted clean from his memories of Locutus, and absorbed into his own nightmare.

He is a monster in the fog. Resistance is futile. ]

[leaps]

[ sulu come stumbling and choking through the fog. ( starfleet, you're starfleet get it together ) he's just this side of clumsy, which is embarassing, but less embarassing than it could be, all things considered. under the circumstances, he thinks he's allowed to fall just a little bit to pieces.

although he can feel himself stretching thin, cracking under the strain. he's bounced from horrible place to horrible place to horrible place and seen things he knows he has no right be seeing and he just wants to stay here. the fog is not safe, he knows it isn't safe, but he'll take whatever he can get. he'd rather be here, striding through nothingness, than bounced back through another horror show, filled with unfamiliar and most likely dangerous things.

of course, sulu really should be careful what he wishes for. ]

John Connor | September 28th on

[theyalldieforme]

Closed to Kurt Hummel, post attack

[theyalldieforme]

[John's moving carefully, his breath almost audible, but he's still watching Kurt's back]

What happened? Back there? What was that thing?

september 26th | open

[unforgives]

[the day started off different than usual with the sudden fog and since it showed no signs of dissipating anytime soon, emily couldn't help but be a bit curious as to what was going on. technically the logical thing to do would be to stay in her room until this passed but instead she was just trying to make her way through the hallways]

october 3 | for jack kelly

[cons]

[ when Wichita wakes up, she's already screaming, shouts of terror ripping through her throat because no, no, no she can't be dead right now, she can't really be dead. eventually she moves her hand over her mouth, muffles the panicked sounds because she can hear them just getting swallowed up by the fog around her, too thick to really see much of anything at all, which only makes her feel so much worse. there's no carnival music, so she didn't end up back in Zombieland again, but who knows? maybe she's just in another world. the trick is to find out whose it is. and maybe not getting killed this time.

oh, god.

the heels of her hands press hard into her eyes as she sits up, like she can shove back her emotions and lock them all away until she can get out of here. but it's no use, she can't stop crying and she can't get her panic or fear under control. she's a mess. and lost. fuck. ]

[allucinator]

[Despite what he's been told, despite all the feminist rhetoric and girls being heroes, there's something deep within Jack that will always be old-fashioned. A man crying-- even during all this bizarre hellishness-- is cowardly, and a girl crying-- well. A girl crying must be helped.

He hears the sobs as he rounds the corner-- and he can't pretend he isn't wary, that he's not terrified of what's going to happen next, if it's some trick, some monster trying to lure people in-- but once he catches sight of who it is, Jack races forward, skidding down so he can sit next to her.]

Darlin'-- oh, Christ, Wichita, it's me, it's Jack, you remember me? Oh, come on, come on, it's okay--

[There's a note of nervousness in his voice, because they're too exposed out here-- but still he tries his best to be soothing.]