twenty-eighth jump;

[ataraxites]

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: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.



It's getting closer.




YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.

KEEP LOOKING.

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

GRANT WARD ( so very open )

[specialism]

PODS

[ this isn't the bus — ward has no recollection of leaving the bus and he has no recollection of anything that might lead to a scenario in which he's suspended in a tube of blue fluid, breathing through a tube in his nose, which means that his memory must be failing him or the bus was ambushed. neither one of those are acceptable options — but the thought process is delayed when the fluid drains and he ends up on the floor, barely catching himself in a crouch in time before his face hits the ground.

this is not the bus. this isn't anywhere familiar; nothing he recognises. he's naked, but that is secondary to unarmed in this moment, eyes narrowing as he pushes himself to his feet.

there are others stumbling from pods just like the one he'd been in. there's a tattoo on his arm — none of this makes sense and if someone had time to tattoo him, that means he was out for too long.

where is his team? ]

LOCKERS

[ in the end, he'd followed others into the showers and then towards a room full of lockers. he keeps his head down, but that doesn't mean he isn't watching his surroundings carefully.

at least the locker contains tac gear and weapons and some of the tension in his shoulders bleeds away as he checks over the two guns, the ammo, loading them — that he doesn't strip them entirely is the only concession to time and place.

only once he's assured himself that they're functional does he set them aside for long enough to actually get dressed. in tac gear, rather than the unfamiliar uniform. ]

hahaha i meant pods.

[sleuthtastic]

[ Granted, in her time aboard the TQ, she hasn't seen that much nudity. Sure, there's that brief freak-out everytime you open your eyes to blue goo, and the showers are a lot like high school gym, which means there's nudity if you look for it. But it's not a big deal — it's definitely not like this, which is rounding the corner only to see a guy very, very confidently walking his way around, and it's not like Veronica hasn't seen her fair share of cheating wives and husbands mid flagrante, but— ]

—oh my god!

[ Quick, Veronica, put your hands over your eyes to protect your mythical (ha) virginity (double ha). ]

Do you— clothes?

[ A beat. Her fingers open, just a little, and only from the waist up because, you know, space crazies. ]

Are you Ryan Gosling's body double?

[ That's a good question, right. ]

chinhands!!

[specialism]

[ he's not particularly pleased to be naked, but it's pretty low on his list of concerns right now. unknown location and unarmed and where is my team? rank far higher up there and so he disregards it for the time being. gather intel, subdue hostiles should you encounter them, find supplies (weapons, clothes, protective gear preferably, he has training enough to deal with this kind of situation but that makes him no less tense, ready to spring at any moment.

except the person he encounters isn't hostile, or if she is, she's the least aggressive hostile he's met in all of his career with shield. covering her eyes and babbling about clothes of all things?

no, veronica, asking him if he's ryan gosling's body double is not a good question right now. ]

No.

[ that answers both her questions, actually. ]

[sleuthtastic]

[ Right, okay. Veronica's not a good judge of character — god knows that if first impressions were always right, she'd be able to do something about the people she once trusted — but he's obviously not a talky-talk kind of person (and, in some weird way, she kind of thinks of both Shepard and Anderson, that maybe the common thread there is a little too much Rambo). It's not that she's knocking it — they're more adept than she is — but there's a certain carefulness that comes from talking to people like that.

Veronica kind of— takes a step back, lowers her hand but hovers it right below his chest. At least trying to have some kind of normal conversation might help. ]

So do you always stroll around in The Empire Strikes Back buck-ass naked, or should I continue being terrified?

[ Experiences with military personnel: not actually pleasant, historically speaking. ]

[specialism]

[ he's not a talky-talk kind of person and he is very much rambo and close enough to actual military personnel, certainly in training — so her first impression really isn't far off. he won't be congratulating her on that anytime soon, or ever. he's wary and worried and it translates into shortness, into tension along his back and in the lines of his shoulders and jaw, but he isn't openly hostile or going to beat her.

( part of him wishes there was an immediate threat because it would make this easier; the world is rarely so black-and-white, but ward deals best with those obstacles that he can hit, fight, beat. ) ]

What are you talking about? [ and, seeing how she is apparently the talky-talk kind of person: ] Where is this?

[sleuthtastic]

[ Right, okay x2. Veronica kind of— makes a face, massages her temple (singular, with her other hand still busy) because she's only been here a little while and it's not like— why do they not make pamphlets on this kind of thing?

(She's never met someone who looks so serious while pulling full-frontal in her whole entire life.

Which is still terrifying, in a round about way.) ]

You're on the Tranquility. It's a space ship, and we're in space — there are windows down in the bay — and we're all. Around. What you experienced was a jump, and then there's other, metaphysical—

[ A beat. ]

Sorry, I have obviously not watched enough Star Trek for this explanation.

ᴘᴏᴅs

[carbonite]

[han solo hates newbies, he just does. the idea that new people come and the same information is said over and over again and then it just never stops is just so annoying. it grates on his nerves, makes him even more irritable than he usually is. most people mistake it for being a curmudgeon, but the truth is something far too gallant for him to want to let on.

it's because newbies are suckers, and at some point he was a newbie. how many jumps has it been since he came here? too many, that's the answer, and yet he feels like he's learned nothing. absolutely not a damned thing. leia gone (someone whom he actually loves), and yet the ship remains.]

Argh, buddy. Do you wanna hurry up and get to the showers, or is this first time you've woken up naked and covered in goo?

[for han, that is also something that has happened far too many times for him to appreciate.]

Move along, go shower and go to your locker and get out of the damn way.

[han solo is confident enough to be scowling at someone while he's naked.]

[specialism]

[ han solo might be confident enough to be scowling at someone while he's naked ( while they're both naked ), but ward is confident enough in his ability and training to block the path of the guy bitching at him. he thinks bitching because it is the term that seems to come closest to the tone of voice and annoyance in the man's voice.

more important than that annoyance, though, are the implications of his words. apparently, this is not an unusual occurence for the man. apparently, people wake up naked and covered in goo regularly and repeatedly. apparently, there are showers and lockers, and ward wonders for a moment if there may be weapons — but no, which kidnapper would be stupid enough to supply him with weapons?

so instead he glares at han. ]

Is this centipede's doing?

[ he doesn't think it is; centipede wouldn't be as stupid as to let him walk around freely. centipede may be many things, but stupid is certainly not among them. ]

[carbonite]

[oh good, this one has come out crazy. that's great, that's just great. he might not have ward's combat scores or the mind of it, but han has a lot of years dealing with people that would want to break his neck before even asking for him to get out of the way.

he can't help it, his eyes squeeze shut as if he's trying to process what the hell just came out of the other guy's mouth.]

One, what the hell is a centipede and two, you sort of wish it was because then it would be normal and not a mind bend. Welcome to the Tranquility, it's going to be terrible now move along.

[specialism]

[ he hasn't come out crazy at all, you just don't know what he knows — which would be obvious as soon as ward makes the connection between multiple worlds and universes and portals to other places. he has not yet made that connection, but what he can tell is that while han might not know about centipede ( or might pretend not to know about centipede ), he knows something. ]

The Tranquility?

[ ward isn't feeling particularly tranquil. nor is he feeling inclined to "move along" and to get out of han's way just yet. he doesn't bother telling han that nothing about centipede is normal. ]

[carbonite]

[what the fuck is a centipede and why is this guy still tripping balls about it. han has to rub his eyes, like he's counting down before he just clocks the guy in the face. he hates jumps, he hates that they remind him of being tortured by vader and getting told that he's going to be frozen in carbonite.

he hates that he'll never ever not feel this way about them because he knows that if he doesn't wake up in goo, he'll wake up dead (or so he thinks).]

Yeah, the Tranquility. What I just said. Do you need directions to medical or do you want to keep repeating things at me?

[10.]

lockers | i'm so sorry cries...

[nuked]

[ It's the sound of shotgun shells, locked and loaded, and assault rifle being checked. Enormous plates of armor being examined thoroughly piece by painstaking piece. No breaches, just dints, burns, scratch marks--areas where a Promethean Knight tried to put its blades to him, where Elites have grabbed him by the pauldrons.

It all seems to check out alright.

He's a man who has to duck down too low to search the locker for one last piece (his helmet) that he can't seem to find. Broad in the shoulder, obviously a little big even for the apparently standard-issue crew uniform, he pulls back and for the first time his brow draws a little.

Where the hell is that helmet?

(Somewhere on the floor where Cortana put it, but it really isn't clicking to John since she simply picked up one of his thigh plates casually and walked away with it.) ]

Where...

cackles

[specialism]

[ the sounds of an assault rifle being checked, locked, loaded — those sounds are intimately familiar to ward and for a moment, he looks down on the two handguns in his palms with something akin to regret. having them is a relief and a measure of security that eases some of the tension inside of him, but an assault rifle, that is another calibre of weapon entirely.

so he watches for a moment. at first, his eyes are on the rifle more than on the man, but then he takes in size and height and finds himself almost impressed despite himself. height and weight aren't everything, though — he should know. may is faster than he is and it gives her an advantage despite her much smaller frame.

it doesn't take him long to figure it out. ]

On the floor.

he can't be left alone /sigh

[nuked]

[ John turns a bit towards the sound of the voice, but only slightly, one eye on the man as he tells him to look "on the floor." It's enough to make his eyes narrow a bit, maybe in confusion, maybe in uncertainty, before he looks to the ground and sees it sitting there on top of the pair of his arm plates.

Helmet. Check.

It's dinted in the visor, which is a bright orange color, and it's seen more starstuff than anything in truth. ]

Appreciated.

[ He glances now at the other's hands, a pair of handguns (a gun is a gun, just depends on whose hands they're in. He looks like he knows his way with them). The look he gives him afterwards, could be called unnerving, but maybe it's just the eyes that make it so, startlingly bright and clear. Sharp. ]

Surprised they left us what they did.

[ It's an observation, maybe to himself, maybe to the both of them. He'll dig a little. ]

they can be helpless badasses together

[specialism]

[ it's nothing that ward hasn't thought himself; it's stupid of any captor to leave those captured in possession of weapons and protective gear. it's stupid and it makes him think that there must be some truth to the things he's been told.

this isn't centipede's doing, this is something else entirely.

hostile, but not in the way he'd initially assumed.

the look is returned evenly, his eyebrows wandering up. ] If what they say is true, the rifle is going to be of no more use than my guns.

[ while they could shoot up the ship, damaging it to die in the vacuum of space isn't a great alternative. ]

y e s

[nuked]

For now.

[ Guns have alternative uses. John's found a million and one different ways to use an MA5D, and good amount of them don't involve putting a finger near the trigger.

Leaving them in possession of their weapons, however, does seem strange. Hell, being left with his armor is even stranger. Why give a man such strength? So that they might be called generous? No, John doesn't believe they're after gratitude. ]

What did they say?

[ And who are "they"? ]

lockers. the most dramatic tag ever, i'm so sorry.

[allfatherissues]

[Loki has gone through the jumps enough times now that at this point, he's merely going through the motions. It's likely one of the most unpleasant parts of the whole experience, and thus he often tries to make it was swift as possible -- sometimes keeping an eye out for anyone that may be of interest, of course, in the process.

But he just -- turns a corner, out of nowhere, and keeps walking right past Ward, brushing past him as he does so. He doesn't know the man, though the man might just recognize him.]

lockers. screeches!! also i'm sorry this is so late

[specialism]

[ ward is on edge — how could he not be? this is unknown territory, space and a spaceship. he has yet to make contact with anyone he knows and he has yet to find anything familiar aside from his weapons.

he's on edge and he's alert — there is no way he would have missed loki walking past him. the lack of recognition doesn't shock him; he wasn't there during the battle of new york. lack of recognition on loki's side doesn't mean lack of recognition on ward's side and he grips his guns tightly for a long moment and then — follows.

it helps to know your enemy. and unknown territory or not, loki is most certainly an enemy. ]

no worries, there's no hurry!

[allfatherissues]

[Loki keeps a steady pace, every once in awhile having to weave through a small group of passengers that were also going through the jump process. His destination is unknown -- perhaps he's going to check on Thor, or maybe he's merely making his way to the lift to leave the medbay.

He doesn't look back. This continues for a minute or two before he turns another corner.

And mysteriously... disappears(?).]

<3

[specialism]

[ ward follows — at a steady distance, at not quite the same pace. he's good at this; it's what he was trained for. which means that losing loki once he turns the corner is all the more worrisome.

ward doesn't let his guard down, doesn't stop to look around and make a target out of himself in case this is an ambush. he keeps walking, hand on one of the guns. ]

[allfatherissues]

[Only a second or two passes before Loki's voice echoes from behind Ward, standing several feet down the corridor they were both passing through. The Trickster and his misdirections and illusions, what can you do.]

Is there a particular reason that you're following me?

[His tone is undeniably patronizing.]

( post-lockers )

[busdriver]

[It doesn't matter what she thought of the mutiny; what matters is that Nathan Petrelli and his team needed an extraction, and she'd been as powerless as anyone else to get that done. That's bound to play on her mind, even though she knows by now that the outcome wasn't fatal. Security's orders to clear the area, two hours before the jump, didn't absolve her sense of personal responsibility, because orders never do.

At the lockers, she changes into her gym clothes, which means she's not much less cold than she was in a towel. It isn't enough coverage for the temperature, but she's expecting to make good time to someplace warmer.

Ward, outfitted in tac gear and combat-ready, is an unexpected sight enroute to the lift. His posture is closed and unrevealing, but she's assuming alertness, looking for those subtle physical indicators. She thinks better of using his name. She falls into step beside him and relies on his awareness of his surroundings to do the rest.]

Can't say I'm glad to see you.

[For all that she believes he'll increase their chances of resolving this situation—taking control of the ship, or otherwise getting everyone back where they belong—she doesn't want this for him. She wouldn't underestimate him as an asset, but neither of them were trained for this. Judging from what she's seen and heard since the last jump, her arrival, she wouldn't wish this ship on anyone.

It's largely because of Ward that she hasn't been concerned about the rest of the team. She knew he'd take care of them, no matter how long she was gone. Knowing that both of them are here now, there's a part of her that just got a lot more concerned about the vacancies left on the Bus.

She doesn't ask if he's okay, if the disorientation is subsiding, but she gives him that kind of look: support, should he need it, rounded out by her awareness that he probably won't. She doesn't expect him to lean on anyone more than he has to, herself included. That's not how either of them operate. In completely foreign situations, most field agents would withdraw from help, or even try to offer it, before searching it out.]

[specialism]

[ he doesn't know anything about the mutiny and the complete failure to extract the team in time — he is only just learning spaceship and jump and the terminology surrounding it. he has learned of loki's presence here and that is not at all comforting, but it just means that he has all the more reason to draw from his training, to remember that this is precisely the kind of situation in which being 100% of the solution and able to rely on yourself fully is necessary.

she is right: he is far more likely to offer help to those seemingly in need of it than he is to search it out. even so, he's already learned some things of this place and it didn't even take an interrogation. information is as much a necessity in warfare and espionage as physical strength and tactics are. without knowledge, tactics are useless, and sheer strength wins fights, but only sometimes.

if she is offering support, he won't ask for it.

( there is a moment's relief that she is here, but it is quickly followed by anger and the exact opposite of relief. if she is here, that means whoever snatched him managed to get the drop on her as well, and it means that there is no one with the team to look after them.

he would have trusted may to do it, but it still feels like his responsibility.

a responsibility he is failing, despite his best intentions. ) ]

May.

[ a nod, short and clipped. ]

[busdriver]

[They think alike, at least enough that she doesn't consider expounding on her initial reaction. He'll get the picture.

This is as safe a place to talk as they're going to get on the ship. She's assuming a blanket lack of privacy; that they're being observed at all times. If she were masterminding this operation, she wouldn't take her eyes off the passengers for one second.]

You know where we are?

[Her confirming tone of voice should make it clear that the question's for his benefit, not hers. She knows the generally accepted answer, even though the situation's a lot bigger than their part in it, and she hasn't had enough time, or processed enough reliable information, to feel anything other than new herself.]

[specialism]

Space. [ it's said without inflection, but he is watching for her reaction — whether she confirms or denies. any signs of surprise will constitute denial in this scenario.

if she confirms — if she confirms, he will accept that they are, indeed, in space. ]