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

[specialism]

[ he waits, expectant, and the expectation is obvious in his expression and the way he looks at her.

if not their team, then which is she referring to? because she has someone in mind, or he is reading her entirely wrong. ]

[busdriver]

The consultant— [Her tone covers some ground through reluctant, doubtful and unenthusiastic. Ward knows who she means, right, if not Skye?

Stark is a mixed blessing if ever there was one. She's not sure how well he'll respond to a couple of SHIELD agents he doesn't know. From what she's heard, he's not a pleasure to the agents he does know.]

—and Thor. [She has no (relevant) preconceived opinion on the Asgardian, so her tone lightens.]

That team. I haven't made contact.

[specialism]

Loki is here as well.

[ that seems very relevant information to share, and rather apropos, and so he does in a low tone.

and yes, he figured she didn't mean skye. ]

[busdriver]

[News like that would send a jolt of alarm through Director Fury himself. For both their sakes, she keeps her reaction minimal.]

You saw him?

[She's asking if there was an incident, or if Ward has that from simple observation.]

[specialism]

Yes.

[ his own reaction had been pushed down and ignored in favour of following loki's path — ] Followed him, but he noticed.

[ in the tones of a sit rep. ]

[busdriver]

You took a risk.

[It isn't a reprimand but it is, on some level, critical.

She's notably not saying she would have done something different.]

[specialism]

Yes.

[ it was a calculated risk and while he isn't entirely certain it's paid off, precisely, he's still in one piece and any information gained might be worth something in the long run. ]

You've been laying low? [ there is no judgment either way in that question. ]

[busdriver]

Ear to the ground.

[Both because that sounds low, and for the standard meaning of the phrase. It'd roll right off her back even if he did pass judgment on her tactics.]

You get anything?

[—from Loki. Well, he can't claim she doesn't have faith in his abilities.]

[specialism]

Not very much.

[ well, actually, the thread just hasn't developed that far yet but we'll handwave it for now how about it lalala ]

[busdriver]

[Right. Mental note to follow up on that line of questioning later, though not very much sounds 100% accurate to the probable outcome of that Laufeyson (Liesmith?) situation.]

He isn't responsible for this.

[specialism]

You're sure.

[ half a question, half a statement. ]

[busdriver]

You have to ask?

[She's seen enough. Beyond convinced that this isn't his style.]

[specialism]

Not really.

[ a shrug. he doesn't doubt her in the least, but certainty is not always a given in their line of work. ]

( actual least emotional reunion thread i've ever seen. )

[busdriver]

[And now she starts shivering a little. She's human; who knew?]

You know where you're headed next? [An indicative glance to her own comms device asks whether he got the automated message.]

( you said it )

[specialism]

[ he gives a nod, brief, once. ]

Quarters, provided for us by our abductors.