ataraxionlogs | twenty-sixth 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: Your average, run-of-the-mill jump—except some characters don't seem to be waking up from stasis like they should.

Don't worry.

THEY NEEDED THE REST.

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

[ brad respects competence and strength and what this woman lacks in the physical department, she more than makes up for in sheer gall. he can appreciate that, even if it means his ears are ringing from her screaming and she's kicking at him. he's too well-trained to let her go, to let his grip weaken even though some of her kicks connect in a way that more than just stings.

he doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about, but telling her that he hasn't killed anyone in a while or that he only shoots when he's in a warzone or attacked seems counter-productive and he can exercise some discretion here. so he doesn't say any of those things. instead, he goes with: ] I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, so shut the fuck up and listen.

[ this time, his voice isn't friendly anymore. those are orders. the questions is whether she's going to take them and somehow, he doubts it, but fuck that. it's worth a try. ]

[ as if dana is going to listen to orders from some asshole who kidnapped her and probably helped kill marty. she screams again, the sound feral and wild, like some kind of caged animal. her wrists twist in his grip, her fingers bent to try to claw at his hands as much as she can.

marty's dead. he's dead, and if this guy didn't do it, then he's part of the organization that did, that killed all of them -- because even if dana is still here, still has a heartbeat, still breathes, the person she was before she went to that cabin has been murdered, and now she's just a husk. even she would barely call herself human anymore. she is entirely what the facility has made her, and more than anything it has made her angry.

after a moment, she goes still. not long enough for him to let go of her of his own volition, she doesn't trust him enough to do that, but long enough for him to begin to relax. long enough that he may think she's tired herself out. that she's given up.

and then she brings her knee up fast and hits him as hard as she can in the groin. ]

[ recon marines are tough motherfuckers. they're stone cold killers, trained to withstand pain and torture, trained to keep their cool under the most threatening of situations.

there are some things you just cannot train for, though, and biologically speaking, brad's just a guy like any other. meaning when her knee hits him in the groin, he finds himself in pain and doubling over, letting her go. he does have the wherewithal about him to push her away from him even as his other hand is already covering his groin. ] Motherfucking—

[ if not for the fact that she just kneed him in the balls, that move would deserve some respect from him. good thinking, girl.

he doesn't let himself have much of a reprieve, though. the instinct to roll into a ball and whimper in pain is there, sure, but he is trained and so a moment later, he's semi-upright again and watching her. ]

You done yet? [ because for the record, she started this. she's the one who attacked him. ]

[ no matter how well-trained a guy is, without a cup he's not going to be able to withstand a knee to the balls. that's just biology. dana has no problem exploiting that fact in order to get herself safe -- she's already killed a man and ended the world today, what's a little trauma-induced sterilization going to hurt?

he doesn't have to push her away from him, she's already scrambling as far away as she can get when he lets her go. dana has no training, no idea how to fight, but her muscles are tensed and she glares at the man in front of her, trying to think of everything she was ever taught in highschool self-defense. she may not have a weapon here, but she can still fight. she will fight.

for marty. ]

Depends. Are you done lying to me?

[ back in iraq, he'd been wearing adult diapers that might have softened some of the blow, but there is no necessity for that here and yeah, it fucking hurts. at least he's got his breath back and she's not attacking him again right now, that's something.

( he wouldn't let her get away with the same trick twice and he is trained. )

lips curling in disdain. ] Wasn't fucking lying to begin with.

[ she could run, probably. aside from the people watching their little dust up, no one's paying much attention to her. definitely no one else is trying to attack her, so she could probably get away at least fast enough to hide, find some kind of weapon. combat-trained or no, he won't be able to run for at least a minute or two, and she could use that time. there's no way he'd let her get close enough to attack him, and even if she could he has the higher ground here. if she could just find a weapon...

but call her a cat, because the curiosity is just too much for her to resist. ]

If you aren't lying, why did you attack me? Who are you, and where are we, and where is Marty?

You attacked me.

[ so excuse you very fucking much, but what drugs are you on and come off them right now, or at least get your facts right. and maybe he's run through the scenarios as well; if she runs he'll let her, because brad does not have a bleeding heart and he isn't going to put in an effort for a crazy bitch who kicked him in the balls.

voice sardonic: ] Sgt. Brad Colbert, USMC. We're on a spaceship in the middle of buttfuck-who-knows-where, space, and I have no idea who the fuck Marty is.

You --

[ bumped into me. okay, maybe in retrospect it wasn't actually as threatening a move as she'd thought it was, but can you really blame her, coming from where she came from? you're lucky she didn't actually manage to kill you brad, if she could have she would have.

sardonicism noted and not appreciated, sergeant. ] You are lying to me. [ aka, we are not in fucking space what the fuck you lying asshole. ]

[ he cares precisely not at all about whether or not she appreciates his sardonicism. ]

Go look out of a fucking window.

[ not that there are any, here, but there's plenty in the shuttle bay. ]

[ yeah well fuck you too, buddy, how're your balls doing? think you'll ever have kids? ]

Yeah, cuz there are so many of those around.

[ dana's been cataloguing the room looking for exits since she got out of the tube, dude, she'd have noticed any windows looking out onto space. try again. ]

[ brad never wanted kids in the first place, he ain't worried. ]

Not here. Flight deck.

[ and he'd be offering information more willingly if she'd listened earlier. and, y'know, if she hadn't kicked him in the balls, maybe. ]

twenty-sixth jump;

aldksjf never worry i am the slowest slow to slow, so

sorry brad.............

he had it coming

i am the worst please don't hate me :(

i don't!!

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his language, i am sorry for it

eh, like she's any better

oh good

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