eighteenth jump;

[mathematically]

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

[chaineddog]

[He lets out a huge sigh and has to restrain himself face palming. He's not good at this. In fact, he sucks at trying to comfort people.]

You and the entire ship.

[He eyes the blood on the wall and he tugs out a tissue from his jeans before dangling it silently in front of Bells.]

[lacksgrace]

[ When he looks at him, his head cocks a bit to the side as if he doesn't get what it's for, but he takes it anyway. There's no word of thanks, just a shift in his position so he can press his busted hand against the wall for support. ]

Maybe not home. I-- [ Is he seriously going to have this conversation with a guy he usually only sees around jumps? Yeah, looks like it. ] This place keeps taking the most important things away from me. I just wanna be with 'em. But I can't.

[chaineddog]

[Heine merely gives him a shrug when he looks at him and promptly shoves both of his back into his pockets.]

You mean your home didn't pull shit like that? Must be nice.

[lacksgrace]

[ He crumbles the tissue in his hand, but it's the only movement he makes as he talks. ] Taking people as they pleased? Torturing them? Whatever else you can think of?

Uh, yeah. Where I'm from, it's kinda forever. [ Bells bites into his lip. ] It's different here though. A lot different.

[chaineddog]

Sounds like fun. [Of course, not really. It sounds too much like his past and he has to force the bile back when he hears Bells describe it like that.]

Didn't know that shit like that could be considered different though.

[lacksgrace]

Hell's great. Come visit some time. I'm sure you won't wanna leave if you do. [ His sarcasm is more bitter than actually sarcastic, and his shoulders sag. ] It's all in the way it's done. But I'm not an expert. I don't get off on that kinda stuff.

[chaineddog]

I'll pass. I had my stint there. [Well not Bells' hell, but it may as well have been. And to be frank, Heine doesn't think anything could be as bad as that was. He shrugs.]

Some people do though and I sure as hell don't know what you're like.

[lacksgrace]

[ He looks over at him for a second, biting at his lip before dropping his eyes. ]

Maybe you don't. But I'd never really wanna hurt anyone. Not unless I had to, and there's a difference in that. [ He breathes slowly. ] Angels aren't designed to do those things anyway. It happens sometimes though. A lot of 'em go crazy, and just, I dunno. Lose it.

That's not me. It isn't gonna be.

[chaineddog]

So you're an angel. From hell. [He processes the information slowly, and almost with a hint of interest. Heine has never believed in angels or heaven or 'salvation' or anything like that. Maybe hell. But that's only because he feels like he's been there and back several times over.

Whatever. Another sigh leaves his mouth.]

It's all lip service until you follow through.

[lacksgrace]

[ There's a shrug. Angel from Hell. Fallen. Same thing. ]

I think I've been pretty good so far. Haven't done anything to anyone. But it's not like I'm asking you to believe me.

[chaineddog]

Wouldn't get you far if you did.

[He tilts his head to the side.]

Shouldn't angels from hell be...I don't know. Less emotional about people leaving and going? [Hell isn't exactly known for its benevolence after all.]

[lacksgrace]

We're not demons. Most of 'em wouldn't give a fuck either way. Angels... [ He sighs, rubs at his face despite the mess his hand has become. ] Things are weird. I don't know if I can explain it.