TENTH WAVE

[felinely]

CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one


You wake up in darkness.


There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.


There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.
 

Comments

IT'S COOL

[scamp]

[There is... a new quality to the way he knits his brows. He's going to blame it on the disorientation. Yes.]

What?

<3

[sharp]

I'm not Cat. We have the same face. Besides, can't you tell? [ she points to herself, lifting up her eyebrows. ] Scottish.

[ The biggest (only, really) difference they've been able to find is their accents. ]

[scamp]

[The outfit and accent could be explained, if Miles let his imagination stretch a little. A different identity seems to be a bigger challenge.]

Well - if you're not Cat, then where the hell is she?

[sharp]

[ Ah, there we go. Amy can see it's finally clicked in his mind. She wonders if Cat ever mentioned somebody to her. She's trying to recall a name, but nothing is coming to her yet. ]

Not sure. She should be around here somewhere. What's your name?

[scamp]

[It takes him a while to answer, eyes narrowed.]

Miles.

[sharp]

Hmm. Sounds a bit familiar. I think she might have mentioned you. [ maybe. whatever. anything to distract the awkward mix-up and the fact that she is still dressed in a police uniform. ] Sooo, are you two good friends, then?

[scamp]

[There's just a quick shrug.]

I guess. How do you know her?

[sharp]

[ shrugs back. ] I don't. Not really, I mean. The first day I showed up here she was here. I think it's hard not to say something when you've got the same exact face.