ELEVENTH WAVE

[astrogate]

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

[citygrit]

Oh, funny. This guy's funny. Funny, funny guy.

Couldn't say he had a head full of great ideas, though.

"Nguh, fuck doctors..."

God. Alexander had ran far, far away just to put distance between himself and any sign of doctors as possible, and he still couldn't escape them. Could he? Their poking and prodding and questions...

He really wasn't looking forward to having to explain any of this to anyone. Least of all his penchant for spontaneous blood loss. Oh yeah, that's going to be a hoot.

[justamobster]

"Yeah, gettin' patched up ain't my favorite either, but I'll level with you, pal. You're bleedin' all over." He frowned, watching the wounded guy and debating whether to ask what the hell happened to him. Ladon decides it's not his business, but that doesn't mean he's going to let someone just bleed to death or go comatose.

"Think you can stand?"

[citygrit]

"Ain't nothin' to patch up. Sure it'll stop in a few minutes." Though that didn't account for the mess, though. Yeah, somebody was going to have to take care of that, weren't they?

Shit. He hated it when it got this bad, especially when he wasn't in the comforts of the estate. He tried thinking about the vineyards and there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.

But nothing.

"...Yeah, I can stand juuust fine." May have snapped a bit harder than intended.

[justamobster]

"S'this normal?" The casual way the guy handles bleeding everywhere is telling. Plus there are all those bits of metal sticking out from his skin-- Ladon's reminded of the people he'd encountered in Sacrosanct with robotic augmentation. He has a feeling this is different, though. This fella doesn't have a swanky robot arm, it's more like it's holding him together.

"Sure you can, scrapyard. I'll getcha a glass of water, yeah?"

[citygrit]

"Oh yeah, happens every fuckin' day." It was hard to say whether he was being a sarcastic asshole, or actually sincere. He masked both sides of the coin pretty damn well.

If Alexander wasn't already so used to being manhandled and thrown about in worse situations, he seemed like one of those types who'd just fall apart right then and there. Yeah, it was that bad.

Also, "scrapyard"?

"Fine. Water. Sounds good. I'll just... sit, hahaha..."

Fuck this day and fuck his life.

"On second thought, you got a cigarette?"

[justamobster]

Ladon is thankfully the right person to ask about a smoke. Partially because he always has a deck on him and partially because he understands the need for one in multiple situations-- including the trauma of waking up covered in goo. He takes out his little metal case, then hands over a cigarette and takes out his lighter so he can give Alex a light, hoping that the gunk from the tubes isn't flammable.

"You want the skinny on this place, or's your brain still catchin' up?"

[citygrit]

Success! Alexander's day became just a little bit brighter.

If the substances were flammable, it wasn't like Alexander would go up in smoke, anyway. Or that turned out to be his line of thinking. Fate had a very specific plan in mind for how he was going to die, and being a crispy critter probably wasn't one of them.

"Y'know what?" Alexander piped up as he breathed in the smoke from the newly lit cigarette. "Fuck the skinny. The less I know, the better."

[justamobster]

"Suit yourself." Ladon shrugged, then got up to find a glass of water for the stranger. He returned a few moments later with a mug full of tap water, which he handed over with little fanfare.

"Number on your arm'll match the one on your locker. You got any stuff, it'll be in there."

Then he's off to do what he intended, checking the tubes for any possibly familiar faces.