ataraxionlogs | eighteenth jump;

Entry tags:

eighteenth jump;

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.

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[Gravity couch/showers]

What was this, a goo bath? It was so clean. It was like a cool softness surrounding his exoskeleton, like some sort of spa treatment he had never been able to afford. But then the liquid drained away seemingly as soon as he woke up. Oh... it was all just a dream, then. How disappointing.

When Zoidberg stepped out the gravity couch, he wasn't exactly familiar with where he was, but it didn't really bother him. Eh. He had seen worse. A bunch of naked people coming out of pods? Maybe that was a little off, but maybe it was just a fancy new trend or something. When Zoidberg looked down at his body, he found he was naked too. Oh good, he was following the trend! So far this new place was a success.

He strutted out of the gravity couch, perfectly content with himself, not caring that he was naked (that was a good thing here, wasn't it?).

A bunch of fleshy humans were walking around in droves, it seemed, so Zoidberg followed them, because that was what everyone was doing! He just wanted to be popular. And so far it seemed to be working... right? Well, he was the only Decapodian here, it seemed, so he was probably getting lots of weird looks for sticking out like a sore thumb. Not that Zoidberg noticed or cared, because hey, this place seemed pretty great so far.

The thing is, Zoidberg didn't know how he got here, but he didn't particularly care too much. It was a new adventure, a new chance to be great!

Oh, so people were heading toward the showers, were they? A giant communal shower thing full of sweaty naked people. Okay. So it was a strange nudist colony, was it? Well, hey, at least he got a free shower out of it. All this goo dripping off his body was starting to feel weird anyway. It was nice at first when he was surrounded by it, but now... blech. Get it off.

After Zoidberg entered the shower, he took his sweet time cleaning himself and actually sang to himself. While his voice wasn't horrible, it probably wasn't entirely pleasant.

---

[Lockers]

So where was he supposed to go now? Some of the naked humans were heading toward their lockers, and by now Zoidberg had put two and two together and figured out that that strange tattoo on his arm (what, did he get that while drunk or something?) connected to a number on a locker. Maybe... maybe this was a cult. Oh. A normal person might have side-eyed the idea, but Zoidberg was simply happy to be included.

So with a bounce in his step, he made his way over to the assigned locker, pulling out his familiar lab coat and scrubs. Ooh, they felt so clean!

"Ah... Freshly laundered clothing! How wonderful!" He pressed the clothes to his face, inhaling the scent of fabric softener. Wow, this place was great already! He was included, got a free shower, and fresh clothes? How could this get any better?

Well, then he found a fancy gadget next to his clothes. Something electronic. It wasn't Zoidberg's shell phone, but it actually looked even better! He pushed a few buttons with his claw, trying to figure out how the thing worked for a couple minutes... But then he started to grow dismayed. It was too complicated. "Ach... How do they expect me to figure this thing out?"

He put it down for the moment and discovered a black outfit in the back of the locker. Ooh. New clothing! It was so new - no evidence whatsoever of spending time in a dumpster! He held it up before him, impressed with the durability of the fabric. Would it break if he clawed at it? Well, maybe he shouldn't try.

What to wear, then? He had two great options in front of him... but everyone seemed to be wearing those black jumpsuits. And Zoidberg so desperately wanted to fit in that he decided to change into it. Oh yes, it looked great on him! He felt like a million bucks already!

So when you find Zoidberg, he is either fiddling with the communications device or admiring his new jumpsuit in the mirror.

The Doctor is mostly, currently, taking everything in, but when he returns to his locker —

"A Decapodian!" he pronounces in delight, bounding up to Zoidberg. "An actual Decapodian!" He leans in, takes in a deep breath, smelling him, and then immediately wishes he hadn't. Eurgh. But no doubt about it, it's the kind of species stench you don't really forget, even if it's been several hundred years since he's seen one.

The Doctor reaches out and takes Zoidberg's overlarge claw, shaking it thoroughly. For his part, he's not dressed in the black jumpsuits at all, but in his own eccentric tweed-and-bowtie fashion. "Hello! Looks like we're neighbors. I'm the Doctor."

Wow! The people here were so friendly! Zoidberg wasn't used to all this attention at all. Was he dreaming? Probably. Well it was a good dream and he preferred to stay in it.

Now, Zoidberg didn't know this man at all. Had never seen him before in his life. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to cozy up to him and make use of the fact that this man was being so indescribably pleasant.

"The Doctor! What an honor!" he replied enthusiastically, shaking that little human hand with great vigor (maybe a little too roughly). "I'm a doctor too! ...A Decapodian doctor!" As if that made much of a difference. (Well this man really liked Decapodians so obviously it did.)

"Are you!" the Doctor says, a little jerkily given he's having trouble stopping his whole body from being shaken by Zoidberg's enthusiasm. "Well, that's certainly something." Given he wasn't aware that Decapodians had a strong incursion into the medical industry. "I'm afraid I'm not a doctor, however. Not a medical doctor, not in the way you're thinking. It's just my title. My name, if you will."

Not a medical doctor? Well, Zoidberg wasn't one either. Secretly. But he wasn't about to admit that here, not when things were going so well. He stopped shaking the Doctor's hand soon enough, though, once he realized that he had no idea who this guy was.

"What, so your name is Doctor? But you're not a Doctor?" He withdrew a claw and scratched his head slightly, attempting to process this strange information. Well, people in this place certainly had some strange names....

"Yes, that's it," the Doctor agreed, seeming not to notice that Zoidberg found this odd. He's fairly used to people side-eying him for it, and it mostly just goes past him now. He is a little disappointed that the handshake's over, though, it was really just getting interesting. "That's my name. But what's yours?"

Well okay, the guy's name was Doctor. Still not the weirdest name, Zoidberg supposed. It was like calling Farnsworth "Professor," right? (Except he was a professor.) But he shrugged then. There were weirder things out there.

"I'm Dr. Zoidberg!" he introduced himself with a bit more enthusiasm. "An actual doctor... of course..."

"Of course," nods the Doctor. "I'm sure the Decapodians greatly appreciate your medical expertise, Doctor Zoidberg."

Ha. Ha ha. Well, he means it unironically, which is the important bit.

"Yes... Of course..." He responded, shifting his eyes slightly. Medical expertise. Of course. Something that he very much had. "I am a well-respected doctor among my fellow Decapodians."

Oh Zoidberg, how long could you keep up this farce? Nobody here knew him so people seemed to be believing it, but how long would it last?

Probably until the point where he tries to do medicine.

"Are you going to practice here?" the Doctor asks, genuinely interested. "I noticed some people react quite poorly to the stasis fluid, or perhaps the hyperspace jump itself — it isn't exactly a pleasant experience."

Zoidberg's eyes lit up at that suggestion. Oh, there was a medical facility on board that could use another doctor?

"Oh, what joy! It just so happens I'm an expert on humans!" He clacked his claws in delight. "I would love to practice here!"

The Doctor has no idea of the grave error he's just made. "And I'm sure all the humans will appreciate it," he says jovially, even though there should probably be some sort of ominous crescendo to accompany that phrase. "I'm afraid given I only just arrived, so I can't tell you who to talk to. But big clunker like this ship, there's sure to be a sickbay."

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whynotzoidberg - 2013-05-20 04:04 (UTC) - Expand

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ex_inventive578 - 2013-05-21 00:03 (UTC) - Expand

What the hell is that.

Casey had seen a great many odd things during his time on board the Tranquility, but as odd things went, this just about took the biscuit. It was man sized, pink and singing in a strange, gurgling voice--grotesque, like a big, fat lobster.

And... Well, that was the worst thing about it. It had claws; massive pincers the size of Casey's head that made him feel distinctly as though he wasn't nearly armed enough to defend his naked self.

The only problem was, in order to get out of the shower he had to go right past it. Which meant raising his voice over the creature's singing:

"Excuse me!"

Things had been going pretty well for Zoidberg right now. A free hot shower! For the first time in ages he could finally feel clean! He wanted to get rid of his persistent stench for now, since there weren't any other Decapodians around and he didn't need it to win over some lady or something.

He was lost in his little tune, some pop song written in the late 3000s that he enjoyed, not a care in the world for the moment. (Maybe in the back of his mind he wondered why he was here instead of at Planet Express or in their dumpster, but hey this place seemed better already.)

Over the sound of his beautiful singing voice, Zoidberg heard the call of another person. Turning his head toward the source, it was a naked human, of course.

And right now he was in a fairly good mood, so he smiled (or the best that could be visible with the tentacles hanging over his mouth) and chirped, "Hello!"

Oh man. What -- the hell is that thing?

Jion's still standing around the locker room, rubbing a towel through his hair and trying to make some sense of where he is -- it certainly doesn't look like the military lab where he'd grown up, and it certainly isn't any place in the city that he can recognize -- when he catches sight of some ... guy. Thing. Weirdo thinger going by.

"... woah."

And of course, Jion just boggles at him for a moment. Staring, hard, before jogging forward and curiously looking over him.

"-- cool costume, dude." Jion tries to sound cheerful since, hey, it'd be good to make a new friend when stuck in a weird place like this, right? But there's a distinctly awkward edge to his movements when he playfully punches Zoidberg's shoulder. "What're you supposed to be, though?"

Zoidberg was no stranger to people giving weird looks or doing double-takes when confronted with his appearance. Decapodians weren't exactly common on Earth, and his friends loved teasing him about his appearance (well, that's how he took it as, at least...). It probably wasn't the first time he had been accused of wearing a costume, but his fish-like stench usually gave away that it was him all right.

Everything seemed to be going so well, even with the playful punch on the shoulder (because that meant that he was likeable), because wow, people here were being nice to him!

"Costume?" Zoidberg gave a forced laugh at that until it petered off into a sad groan, a realization that he did not exactly look... conventional. His face sank for a brief moment. "No, it's just me, Zoidberg!"

He's still marveling at that costume, to be honest -- boggling at the way those mouth-tendrils (?) move so naturally, those eyes glancing around in a way that seems so real. Man, that's so cool! And Jion's so absorbed in admiring the handiwork that must go into making a costume like that, that Zoidberg's words kind of startle him.

"... what's a Zoidberg?" Pause. Ah. "Wait. That's your name, huh? Zoidberg? Nice to meet you, I'm Jion."

But man, does that mean -- "Woah, though -- is that real, then? Like -- all of that?" He gestures looking at himself, to clarify that he sort of means Zoidberg's whole body when he says 'all of that.' And while Jion doesn't really mean to gush, he certainly sounds excited. "Seriously? That's so cool! What are you?"

Well, at least the guy was reacting with fascination. Many people reacted with disgust or fright upon first seeing him, though Zoidberg sometimes denied that people felt that way toward him. But still, this was genuine excitement that the guy was exhibiting, and it made Zoidberg feel great! So many people here were so nice to him!

"Cool? Of course it's cool. I'm the coolest person ever back home." It was with a smugness that he pointed at himself, pretending to elevate his status. (Because surely if they knew he was a loser on Earth, he'd be a loser here too.)

"I'm a Decapodian. From the planet Decapod 10."

It doesn't really matter whether Zoidberg's bluffing or not, since Jion's still listening closely -- or at least, staring with great fascination at the way those claws clack and move. Wow. That's so weird. Is that how this guy picks stuff up, with those claws instead of hands? Haha, he probably can't use scissors or keyboards, then!

"Decapodian. Wait, so -- you're an alien! Wow!"

That -- sorta makes sense, then! He can't imagine a guy like this living on Earth, really. Jion looks practically enraptured as he continues staring at Zoidberg's claws. "So -- is this like, your home? Are we on a space station? Are there other people like you here?"

Well, the strange thing was that Zoidberg's claws functioned just as well as human hands, though no one was exactly sure how. But he gestured with them as he spoke just as people would with their hands. He didn't notice the guy looking at his claws - it was probably something that happened often enough that Zoidberg tuned it out.

"Home? No, my home is on Earth!" He clarified, waving a claw. "In... uh... a mansion..." he quickly added. Certainly not in a dumpster or anything. Oh god no.

"Well the Earth is full of humans and row-bits and some other weird creatures, maybe."

"Row-bits. Row-bits?" Pause. "Oh -- robots." Another pause, then a slightly startled blink. "Robots! Man, I guess I really don't know much about the world if I've been missing out on all the aliens and robots wandering around. I always thought it was just humans through and through. Guess this is a crash course on diversity then, huh?"

A thoughtful little hum as he rubbed a hand against the short hairs at the back of his neck, feeling them bristle against his fingertips.

"You got any idea where we are right now, though? It sure doesn't looks like anywhere in New York that I'm familiar with ..."

"Oh sure - You have your humans and row-bits and sewer mutants and a bunch of aliens nobody cares about - like me!" He pointed to himself enthusiastically with that last bit.

He had to shrug at that last question, though. "Don't ask me. I just woke up here. I'm just following the crowd!"

"... huh. Same here. I mean -- just waking up here and following the crowd. Guess we just gotta ask around and figure out what to do."

A small sigh before he gives Zoidberg a slightly awkward attempt at an encouraging smile. "But hey, c'mon, we'll be alright! I'm sure there's gonna be people here who care about you, y'know? There's gotta be a reason we ended up here?"

"Oh sure, I'm sure it'll be fine! It's shaping up to be a great place already!" He shrugged slightly, but it was more of a delighted shrug.

"A free shower, a free outfit, free laundry! Oh, the list goes on!" He smiled as much as he was able, being genuinely happy to be here. It was probably a dream, most likely. Or maybe he fell asleep in one of the Professor's new inventions.

"Free shower, free outfit, free laundry ..." A small tilt of the head as Jion repeats that list. Honestly, it sounds more like what they hand out at homeless shelters than any sorta grand gift, but hey, who's he to judge a weird lobster-tentacle-alien-thing for having interesting priorities?

"Yeah, I'm sure things'll work out. Hey, keep in touch if you figure more out about what goes on here, okay? I'll do the same for ya." He holds a hand out to shake, grinning. "I'm Jion, by the way."

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whynotzoidberg - 2013-05-21 23:48 (UTC) - Expand

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eighteenth jump;

Need someone to tag? Why not Zoidberg? | OTA

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lockers

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