ataraxionlogs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Zoidberg had never really considered homeless shelters, mostly because they had degraded so horribly in the future that they offered none of those amenities. Besides, he was a doctor, and he had a home....... in a dumpster.

"Sure, sure, I'll contact you once I figure things out." He waved a claw in a slightly dismissive manner. "I think I'll see if this place has a free buffet!" He began to shuffle away, licking his mouth tendrils in anticipation.

eighteenth jump;

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