(no subject)

[theguidinghand]

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
LOCATION: MED BAY
WARNINGS: ... Partial nudity? It should be pretty tame, but let me know if I need to add anything.
SUMMARY: Side-effects of a jump may include disorientation and temporary memory loss. Fortunately, there are a handful of others who have been through this before.
NOTES: Yes, it's a rehashing of the game premise. Don't worry, you can personalize your own (re-)introduction!


You wake up, alone in the dark.

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.

Don't worry, 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. They will help you through your disorientation, even though they might suffer from it too.

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

[theguidinghand]

The first time that he had woken up in a gravity couch, he had been strong and quick to recover his sight. He had barely felt his hunger then, having fed shortly before the Tranquility took him.

This time, he awoke to pain. It was a deep burning in his bones, a flash of red-hot fire. He feel to his knees for a moment, unable to move until the pain eased, became more of a slow ache than a sharp jab. His vision was sluggish to clear, and when he finally could see, the world became blurred when he moved his head too quickly.

He closed his eyes until the nausea passed.

Once again, Guide stood and, more steadily than before, walked into the locker room. There would be no helping his hunger right now, but he could at least regain a bit of dignity by putting on some clothes.

[whatanovelty]

Kroton had closed his locker and was about to head toward the lift. He felt sorry for everyone having to go through the effects of the grav couch, while he hardly felt anything apart from some momentary shakiness while his cybernetic body readjusted to the atmosphere outside of the pod. If there was ever a perk to being a Cyberman...

"That was a bit of a doozy, huh?" he joked to the nearest passerby.

[whatatoolhewas]

This isn't the weirdest way Joker has ever woken up. That's saying something, all things considered. It's not his first time on a foreign ship (and he knows upon the dim awareness creeping into his consciousness that he is on a ship and it is not the Normandy just from the vibrations he feels).

But then he feels the sudden pull of gravity as it drags him down from his sticky bed before he's quite ready, subtle and inexorable. He has only a moment to think oh shit mid fall. Then, something cracks.

Joker wakes up screaming; cussing blue fire and curling on the floor. "Shit goddamn motherfuck! Fuck you and fuck whoever designed that fucking pod! Christ on a crutch! Medic! Mordin!"

[wiretap]

Something cracks and Aberdeen — haven woken earlier to her own disorientation — hears it from where she's managed to stumble into the other room in search of clothes. She hasn't actually found the clothes yet, but she's managed to put two and two together far enough to know that the number tattooed along the inside of her arm (neatly tucked underneath the tidy row of numerals to pi already there previous) corresponds to one of the lockers lining the walls. But the crack is enough to catch her attention, particularly poignant against the new ambient noises of the ship around her. She slips slightly as she rounds the corner back into the medbay, her feet still slick with statis fluid, the whole of her still decidedly naked (though Aberdeen doesn't seem to mind that fact).

A hand on his shoulder, her dark eyes wide and staring, Aberdeen doesn't seem startled, more like fascinated as she lowers herself beside him to kneel in the muck on the floor in front of his grav bed. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and low and oddly calm, bordering on flat.

"I'm not a medic," Aberdeen says simply, but is here nevertheless.

OPEN to new characters or anyone the Doctor hasn't interacted with yet =3

[madmaninabox]

It's really not any more fun the second time. Dripping and mostly-naked on the med bay floor, the Doctor composes himself. He doesn't remember getting into the grav couch -- but he does remember where he is, what it means to be waking up here. Really not any more fun. A bit easier, perhaps.

Not everyone seems to be having the smoothest transition, though. Someone a few tubes down from him. The Doctor stands and approaches, pushing his wet hair up over his forehead.

"Hey." He crouches down, reaching out a hand to - very carefully - touch them on the shoulder. "You're okay."

[eversohandsome]

Bob's the kind of bloke that takes the rough with the smooth and just deals with it as best as he can. Waking up like this, though, is just that tiny bit too far out into the territory of totally intimidating. He has no idea where he is and, although there's someone telling him he's okay, his brain won't quite let him believe that.

"...where am I?" His voice is hoarse where it's usually soft, maybe from the tube that's been stuck down his throat. He feels like he needs a strong drink and like he's had too many already all at once. He's confused, his eyes searching the face of the stranger for any answers, any sign of malice or like he's about to be caught off-guard.

[statsraaden]

Oh, no, not this again. Stats wasn't sure what exactly was happening again, but one thing was sure: it was happening AGAIN.
Oh, and there were new people.

"Hello. I'm Stats, for the new people and the ones won don't quite remember me. Nice to meet you."

[notpanicking]

She hits the floor on her hands and knees, coughing and hacking and complete with the distinct feeling she might throw up. It's an incredibly unpleasant sensation, and she sits there for a few moments, on her hands and knees, with her eyes closed as she waits for the nausea to pass.

It takes longer than she prefers, but eventually it subsides enough for her to pull her head up to look around and -- see that she isn't alone. Not by a long shot. There's people all over the place going through the same thing that she is -- not that that's any kind of comfort.

Pulling herself to her feet, she wraps her arms around herself, shuddering despite herself as she staggers -- somewhere.

Probably into you.

[zoosmell]

This was new! Waking up in a new world was new, and waking up in this new place was new, but also having women fall into him was new, too! He was already disoriented and now he was getting more disoriented, and for a split second, he thought he might be Dave who was very popular with all the ladies and he could survive on Butler Island with his charm alone.

What would Dave do in this situation? Probably say something cool and ironic, like, whoa there, hold up, got enough blue urine for a lifetime- wow, Dave! He'd take another option, thanks!

"Are you okay?" There was a lot of meanings behind those words. Most of the meaning was, are you okay. But there was a deeper meaning behind those words. And that was, he hoped she was okay.

[unwaveringloyalty]

One could call what Kristeva was feeling to be unpleasant, anyone would know that was what this feeling was. Anyone but Kristeva. Being an autoreiv everything that she felt, everything that was going through her body - something else that was new to her - was strange. Odd. Very unpleasant.

The pain registered first. There were some things that autoreiv's simply knew to help those that they served. And now she understood it. From the moment that she woke she knew that something was wrong - feeling cold was new and her movements? More fluid, and less controlled. From the voices that she could hear, not that registered, she knew that she wasn't alone but what she could see? Not Romdeau, and not anywhere that she had 'known'.

If anyone did see her? They may see some form of panic, small, contained but not enough that showed fear. If anything it was confusion more than anything. Kristeva knew what that was and she could say with certainty that she was confused.

[awakenings]

Re-l noticed the woman and her almost subdued expression and, reminded of herself, she made her way over. Not much had changed since she'd left Romdeau over a month ago, though she'd discarded the makeup she usually wore. There had been no way for her to get more and, honestly, she wasn't in any position to ask for something so trivial.

She approached the woman and held out a hand to steady her should she happen to pitch forward. "It's all right. It's a little disorienting at first, but you're safe." Relatively. "There are people here who are fairly amiable and no one's going to hurt you."

She wasn't very good at this comforting thing. "Are you all right?"

[coffeeking]

Ianto fell to the floor, spluttering and shivering, experiencing a bout of intense deja-vu. His memories filtered back in sluggishly. Right. Spaceship. Jack was here somewhere, thank god. They went back into the stasis chambers because...there was something. They were going somewhere? Ianto couldn't recall if anyone had said where.

He wondered bitterly if he'd ever get any better at waking up from these damn things. At least he could remember the details of his whole life, this time. It was just the past week or so on the ship that was still hazy.

Climbing to his feet, Ianto headed into the locker room, intent on finding his clothes, and hopefully Jack.

[awakenings]

Goddamn it, that was particularly painful. And nauseating. She didn't even remember getting into the grav couch, which was more disconcerting than anything else. After the past few weeks of uncertainty over finding that door, seeing the message, and feeling like the entire crew was one step away from running into some great fiasco, this really was the icing on the cake. She didn't like it at all.

She stumbled her way to her locker and slipped on her clothes, arming herself again and making sure that she looked at least somewhat presentable. She'd noticed a few new faces as she passed...and some people were missing from before.

Whatever the hell was going on, things were just getting stranger.

She took a breath to calm herself and then went back out to see how people were doing and if they needed help.

[payload]

The plan had been simple enough to come up with once the jump had been announced to the ship: settle themselves into the gravity couches, jump, be sick for a while and then back to business. It was expected that whatever anomaly had occurred the last time would in all likelihood happen again, having been left unaddressed given that no actual source of error could be pinpointed in time. Which meant that new crew members, along with more civillians, could possibly appear with the next jump. They had to be prepared for this contingency so instead of keeping it as an outlier, they had planned for it as best they could. As for Capa, he'd planned to look for Re-l first, given that she seemed better at liaising than he'd ever be. She'd be able to speak a language the new arrivals would hopefully be able to understand, rather than his tendency to cough up technical speak about worm holes.

He's waiting for Re-l by her locker when she finally stumbles in from the Medback, his back pointed turned in the opposite direction fromt he door to afford whomever enters some semblance of privacy. His hair hangs down in wet, soppy strands around his face, which he then gathers and ties back with a small rubber band. When he hears movement behind him he turns to only half-glance over his shoulder, acknowledging the noise.

"It's bad," he says quietly and doesn't clarify what.

open!

[51stcentury]

Jack wakes up in the gravity couch a bit less violently than he did last time. He doesn't fight the breathing tube, waiting until the liquid drains from around him before pushing it open and stumbling out onto the ground, where he sits for a moment, feeling vaguely nauseous and disoriented. After the feeling passes, he stands and takes inventory of the situation. His clothes are gone - he vaguely remembers giving them away and being shuffled into the gravity couch before. ...Ianto. Eridan. He needs to look around, needs to find everyone, needs to check in on them and make sure they're alright. So he runs a hand through his hair (though he doesn't need to - even covered in the liquid from the tube, he's still as immaculate as ever) and sets off down the hallway, towards the room where the lockers are.

Luckily enough, his clothes are still there, and within moments, he's looking the same as he always does, all blue eyes and wide smiles as he makes his way around to meet the people he can and find the ones he's looking for.

[coffeeking]

Ianto stumbles into the locker room, making his way down the row of lockers and muttering in Welsh under his breath. He hates the grav couches, he's decided. For the second time in far too short a period, his head feels fuzzy and he's drenched in goo. His irritation only increases when he turns the corner and finds Jack, fully dressed and fully aware and fully charming.

He scowls. "I've no idea how, but I'm absolutely certain you cheated to get here before me."

[neutralises]

Durham enters consciousness far less gracefully than usual, his hands and knees bearing the brunt of his ejection out of the grav couch and on to the floor, the entire process coming with little warning.

There's a moment of hesitation, of being at a complete and utter loss of what to do and freezing up in response to that blank space in his mind where sense usually resides. Where it's usually neat and tidy, his hair is wet and dangling over his eyes, the rest of his near-naked body suddenly reacting to the cold accordingly. Before he can stop himself a shiver runs from the base of his spine to his neck, eyes finally lifting from his hands to try and focus on his surroundings.

'Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong,' he thinks as the sensation of no longer being where he thinks he fell asleep tears through his mind like wildfire.

[gofortheoptics]

(Un)Fortunately, Durham is among one of the people from the gravity couches that Tali flags as 'new' as soon as she catches sight of him. She knows that those who aren't in their own personally-insulated environmental suits are going to be chilled, and when he looks up -- well, there's the same confusion she remembers having on her face. At least this time she can do something to help.

She tries to keep her voice level and soft and hopes that he doesn't think she's some sort of probe-wielding alien overlord.

"You're all right," she says, the slightly tinny noise of her mask suddenly sounding sharper to her ears than normal, "Here. Let me help you."

She offers the man her hand, three-fingered and all, in hopes that he'll take it and she can hoist him up. The floor is slippery with gel, after all.

[ex_outfoxes691]

Death had been compared to feeling of 'going to sleep' before, for those who were lucky enough to die in their sleep. For Fox death had been the tip of a bullet piercing her skull and slicing through her brain.

(Funny, she couldn't remember that part. She could remember flinging the bullet. She remembered watching it shoot through her comrades. And she remembered waiting for her turn. What she didn't remember was the impact.

Or the why)

Back to the 'going to sleep' thing.

Death wasn't like going to sleep for Fox. She couldn't really describe death. The after life, however, was like waking up. Actually, it was like waking up with a tube jammed down her throat and being suspended in fluids. Even more accurately, it was waking up with a tube down her throat and in fluids that were slowly receding. Once gone, the door in front of her opened and a usually graceful Fox stumbled out on shaky feet, hand gripping the pod to keep steady.

For now, Fox held tight to the pod with one hand. She didn't lean on the pod, only gripped it to keep herself steady. She refused to move until she was steady to keep from looking like a fool who couldn't find her legs. Lips twisted up in an almost amused smiled as eyes raked over the entirety of the med bay.

If this was death, then she was ready for it.

[the_vishual]

Chase was one of the first to wake up, and she was glad. She was glad because there was work to do--much, much work to do. There were new arrivals. New arrivals meant maybe someone from Heaven's Fence, or more of Capa's crew and she promised to look out for them.

She also promised herself she'd be far more organized this time around.

Finding a clipboard and a pen wasn't hard to do in the least, and the four-year-old-turned-eleven-year-old began pacing up and down the couches, hair still wet. She was glad she had at least normal clothes instead of the uniform, which was good, and--

She stopped, partially because she needed to anyway, yes, but also because the girl in front of her was white as a sheet. And yet there was a familiar grim determination she'd seen before.


Clearing her throat politely, the child looked up. "Name and number, ma'am, if it's not too much trouble. Wait for a few minutes, the dizziness will subside."

[mortalize]

There's something to be said for being aware that you're going to die. It isn't hard for Natalie to see the intense distress in Sharon Agathon's eyes -- for she's seen it in many Eights' eyes in her time -- and although each member of their Numbers is unique in their own way, there are still constants to their expressions and behaviours. She knows that reassuring Sharon that she isn't here to take away the woman's daughter is useless, but she lets the words slip past her lips anyway -- there's a part of her mind that's already feeling the warm breeze of summer air in an open field, preparing for the inevitable pain. Her human body makes it impossible for her to dodge bullets, whatever lies the humans have made up about them -- and when they pierce her body, she cries out. It is a pain that she could never truly prepare herself for, and as she lays on the ground, head back, it feels almost religious. She expected her life to have meaning -- she expected to be able to do something.

She hadn't taken this into account. She'd survived a mass genocide, but she couldn't manage to take on a paranoid mother on the refugee fleet. It would just figure.

She brings herself slowly to her favorite meadow in her mind, imagines the sweet, coppery smell of her own blood to be honeysuckles on the air -- and then snaps her eyes open at the sensation of liquid around her and a sudden confusion filling her mind. What is she doing here, exactly? And where is here, for that matter?

Natalie falls forward onto her knees with a sickening thump, doubles over immediately in pain, and muffles a sob. She's barely aware of the fact she isn't bleeding to death any longer -- still bleeding, yes, but not nearly so seriously -- because the slick feeling of the grav-couch's gel is just as alarming. Everything feels fuzzy, and her throat aches.

[pike]

There is something to be said for being aware that you're going to die.

Nigel had seen it coming in Jack's eyes and, arguably, had welcomed it eagerly, had placed the sentiment there himself in the first place. But knowing you're about to die and actually dying, actually experiencing the pain that comes with it as a necessity, well. That's something entirely different, isn't it?

He's mind comes to focus only to realize that he's on the floor and that his forearms ache from where he'd tried to break his fall with the both of them. Despite the goop in his nose and lining his throat, Nigel smells blood (familiar, almost comforting) and thinks that it's his own, but when he reaches to touch the side of his face he's surprised to find it intact. A mouth full of teeth, an eye in its socket, the whole of his nose — all of it there. But he remembers the muzzle flash burning him blind and that brief sear of agonizing ectasy that come just before darkness fell. His hand over Jack's, Jack's hand on the trigger. Nigel remembers it all with crystal-like clarity, and yet—

Beside him there is the sound of a sob and only then does he realize he's not alone. Nigel coughs, retching up more of that damned stasis fluid, but turns to look at the other person collapsed onto the floor beside him. He should say something, but instead says nothing, just coughs and coughs and coughs.

[saidhe]

"Wats--" He starts to call out a name, a bit loudly, and a very first thought when something's gone amiss, inevitably, but also a name he's learned to train himself out of (sometimes, better days) in his absence at Baker Street. Especially now would it be silly to employ. Stupid, he chides, and shudders.

The entirety of him just feels wet and utterly clammy. This will not do in the slightest. His senses are dulled - there's nothing beneath his fingers but cold-- steel? Or some sort of alloy, perhaps, but smooth, hard, certainly metal. There are faint, high-pitched pips coming from a direction or two, sounds he can't recognize, voices he can't recognize, shuffling feet, new movements and words and he doesn't understand where this floor is from.

He needs his sight - he's lost without it - but every time he opens his lids, his eyes burn and his world reels in dangerous circles around him, and consciousness is not a preference right now, but a necessity. 'And so you have twenty seconds exactly,' he allows himself, inwardly, and after a slow and even count, forces his eyes open, and, oh.

Oh, how indecent. It's not that he has an inexperience with sensory overload, but. Well, if he's taking a moment to clutch at the nearest grav bed to drunkenly drink in the sights while his dizziness subsides, that is FINE. Because for the first absolutely heart-stopping moment in Sherlock Holmes' life -

He hadn't the faintest.

[hummerdoc]

Ratchet had woken, and dressed, not fazed by the slowly becoming familiar wake up. He moved around the med-bay, keeping an eye and ear out for those who might be new or disoriented.

A familiar name, choked off, drew his attention. Ratchet moved closer to the man slowly waking up.

"Are you looking for someone named Watson?" He asked, a soothing note in his voice. "He should be around here somewhere, once he wakes up."

[gofortheoptics]

This is still utterly annoying the second time around, Tali decides. At least she feels as if her body -- or her suit, at least -- is telling her this is familiar, because it takes less time for her than she remembers to push to her feet and start sloughing off the goo from her suit. She's still thankful that the gravity couches haven't deemed to strip of her the equipment that keeps her alive in these jumps, but that thankfulness is only momentary. She forces herself into the other room and to her locker to grab her things, though -- her comm device and her weapon -- before walking back to the main room.

At least there'd been a warning. A quick glance around tells her that there are more people than before, and that's what leads her to announce -- however shakily -- the following.

"Is there anyone out here that needs assistance?" She hopes it's loud enough.

[theblogger]

John is perching on one of the metal stretchers that rests beneath a host of tools, all ready for the call of the computer nearby. It's perfectly harmless, almost inert aside from the hum of the system. Being here, out of the way of the flood of those escaping the tanks, allows him to both collect himself and watch over everyone else. He hears her call, and the tremor in it as well.

It takes a moment, but he's got his knuckles against his lips and is giving one, sharp note of a whistle in her direction. He can't tell if he's catching her eye or not, but he gestures with a hand for her to come over.

i'm henry the eighth i am, henry the eighth i am i am (ps this is open)

[goldshirt]

The second wake up was just as exciting as the first, and though Jim had prepared himself for the nasty wake up call when they'd been told to enter the grav couches it still wasn't enough for the reality. So once more, when the world gives out beneath him and the tube wrenches from his throat, he hits the ground with no dignity and a wet slap and a cough ripping from his chest.

Fuck, was he ever going to get used to that?

He staggers to his feet and takes immediate account of himself and his surroundings. No memory loss this time, so he has to assume that part had something to do with their being pulled from their own universes. Though speaking of- there were a number of confused people he didn't recognize.

A new batch of people, just like they'd guessed. And that could mean...

"Bones," It's a murmur, and immediately Kirk goes to his locker to yank out his regulation blacks, dressing before he starts looking.

[darkholme]

Raven was horrified at the idea of getting sent back into that blue tube, having failed to find Charles and come up with some kind of plan to maybe get her out of it, avoid exposing herself (no pun intended) as a mutant in front of everyone again, and when she wakes up she's feeling just the same as she did the first time. Sick, tired, and most importantly, blue. Not that blue is a feeling-- Whatever.

Before she even hits the floor she's trying to shift (blond hair, blue eyes, pink skin), but it just makes her feel more nauseous than she already is. And it likely looks nauseating, watching her try and do this, her skin fluttering a bit but always settling back to that textured blue.

After a few attempts she manages to get the skin right, though her hair is a dark strawberry blonde, and her eyes still bright gold. It's better than her real form, at least. She just barely get herself up on her feet, and she tries to back away from all the other awakening forms in the room, maybe hide... somewhere. She doesn't exactly know what her plan is, okay. But it takes too much effort to hold this mismatched form, and she doesn't want to be out in the open when she shifts back.

She's at her locker in no time, though she only uses it as a place she can hide her face and try to focus enough on getting it right. There's nothing in there anyway, it's not like she needed the clothes. When she thinks she might have her eyes right, she turns quickly, trying to spare a glance at her reflection somewhere, but she finds herself turning right into someone instead.

"M'sorry." She squeezes her eyes shut and drops her face to hide behind that reddish hair, trying to stop the world from pitching around the way it was, but really there's no use. As long as she's trying to hide, she's not going to feel any less dizzy. Instead of releasing her shift, she holds her hand out towards the lockers, hoping to brace herself on it for now. "Justa bit woozy from the couch... thing again. You know."

open to everyone!

[straightforward]

Once she's made a bee line for the locker room and pulled on the bland uniform provided for her, Jade rejoins the others in the main part of the med bay. The crowd seems even bigger than last time and equally as daunting. Despite the time she's spent on the ship already, being around so many people still made her a little uneasy. Spending thirteen years of your life isolated from the rest of society can do that to you.

Regardless, she stumbles through the group, occasionally stopping to try and shake some of the remaining goo out of her hair. Things are hazy, just as they were the first time, but some key memories remain intact. Jack was here, though he was quite different from what she knew. And Dave too - was he alright? Even Eridan would be a welcome sight at this point, if only to reassure the girl that she wasn't the sole person left from her world.

[zoosmell]

"Hi, Jade!" Having spent most of his life in society, he was pretty okay in the crowd. That was why he was waving to her like a loser a really cool person, and still adjusting his uniform, even though it was the perfect size for him. It was important to look spiffy, even though he wasn't marrying her.

open!

[whatanovelty]

Queue one Cyberman stumbling out of a grav couch. There's a momentary shaky throughout his machinery while his system readjusts. The first reaction his hazy mind sees fit is to reach out to other Cybermen within range via an internal signal - an automatic, emergency procedure, but he quickly kills the process.

The room soon begins to appear... mostly familiar, as he continues through and into the locker room. He quietly chuckles at the neatly hung uniform in his locker and grabs his belongings.

[circumitus]

Rey had been taken to wandering again, not just out of the sheer unfamiliarity of everything (to her, mostly everything was unfamiliar), but curiosity.

Curiosity was such a peculiar way of looking at it. She didn't think she found herself interested in any of the new faces when she had first arrived. Seeing some newer faces that were about, much different from the first time she'd woken up here... curious was just about the only thing she could think of.

Also, this guy looked funny. That might have had something to do with it, or a lot of something. Hopefully the Cyberman didn't take staring unkindly, because he was having one short-haired woman presently doing just that.

What's up, homefry?

[new/open]

[the_crowing]

When the blue mucky thing opened and spilled him out on the floor in less then he had originally been wearing, it was needless to say he was confused, disoriented and coughing for proper air! One hand and knees he brought a hand up to his chest to tap it, trying to catch a breath.

There are other people around, he can hear them, somewhere. That puts him on guard, his shoulders tight for a moment and hand moving from his chest to his hip, looking for his bag, his gun, anything that was his. He found nothing but under covers. Lifting his head he shook it a bit, realizing that the people who were around didn't look, or dress, like Red Army.

That was a mild relief.

But where was he? At the moment he couldn't remember his last location. Maybe he had been captured? Kidnapped? Didn't they just want to kill him though?

He made to grab the anti-grave couch, pulling himself up to his feet and giving one more hard cough to clear his airways. This was some weird nightmare, wasn't it? Perhaps... he should Ghost out of here. If it wasn't for the fact that someone MIGHT have seen him already, he would have gone invisible and taken off already. Seeing as how there were people around though he decided against it. Better to keep that secret hidden and safe for now.

[tenyeargambit]

The advantage to having done this before was that there was less confusion, at least on his part. There was less panic, less blindly running about, less confused queries as to what was going on. It meant that he knew about the general state of nakedness and disorientation, and Clive found that he was now firmly of the opinion that he really didn't want to see the vast majority of his fellow castaways naked. And yet it would happen again and again.

An unexpected side effect, however, was knowing which...what was the phrase? Oh, yes. Grav couches. An unexpected side effect was knowing which ones were (generally speaking) filled when he got into his own and which ones were empty. And so it was when the previously empty one to his right unexpectedly deposited someone, Clive was surprised and yet...right, yes, they said this might happen.

"Oh, hello. I take it that you are new."

open to all

[spacecommander]

Travis emerges from the grav couch with a scream, clinging to one side of the frame, and gasping for air until he's able to stand upright on his own. The pain was easily shrugged off for the moment, or at least from an outsider's perspective it was. If he kept breathing deeply, the nausea would also fade. He's had enough training and experience to, at the very least, not appear ill.

He wasn't putting much thought into where he might be, or where he was previous to this liquid-filled tube - he just knew that something didn't feel right. Something was missing. Clothes, for one, he noticed when he looked down and saw that his robotic arm wasn't covered. But more than that, something more important, something...

[firstofficer]

He isn't the first to have emerged with an excess of sound- and given the myriad circumstances in which passengers were delivered, several of these responses he believed, could be considered tame. As it stands, this particular outburst is close to Spock's own stasis chamber, and rising to his feet at the man's profile, his attention turns.

Outwardly, at his initial assessment he cannot find injury- though his attention does drag to the robotic limb- but the query is necessary regardless. Damage sustained by any member brought aboard the vessel could potentially decrease productivity of the whole.

"Disorientation is a temporary effect of the stasis chamber. In the interim, have you sustained injury?"

OPEN

[grndnpnd]

Tommy's first semi-conscious thought is: Didn't think Brendan had it in him. His second thought, a moment later and less a thought and more a physical impulse, is that there's something in his throat that shouldn't be there, and he needs to get it out. He tries to shift his hand to get at whatever it is but just as he does, there's a mechanical whirring noise, and the tube pulls out, and he's dumped all at once in a heap on the floor.

Between one thing and another, Tommy's been in and out of hospitals since he was a kid. He even spent a while in one after the thing in Iraq. He knows what they look like, and this doesn't look like any hospital he's ever been in before. If his shoulder wasn't still busted, he'd wonder if he was dreaming, but it hurts like hell, way too much for this to be a dream.

He wipes the goo off his face with his good hand and shifts his other arm around so that his thigh can take most of its weight. And then, with his head a mess of too much to take in all of a sudden, he just sits there for a moment because fucked if he knows what to do next.

[addictive]

There's a long moment when nothing happens save the obvious moving back and forth of people in distant places, the sound of maybe shuffling, maybe talking coming from an adjacent room. Then, without much warning (Mouse doesn't make much noise, even on a good day), there is the sudden and inexplicable appearance of a droopy mass of white blond hair (red at the roots) in the doorway. Said hair is attached to a small, bobbly head with a skinny little face which appears in the mouth of a hood of what can only be described as an oversided parka.

The boy in said parka, with the hair and the hood, lifts his eyebrows in some kind of Buster Keaton-esque pantomime before pulling the rest of himself to stand awkwardly in the doorway. If he wasn't already small in comparison to his parka, it's obvious now that he's just small, period. Silently, he lifts a hand and waves it back and forth a Tommy the way a very small child might. Mouse smiles in a way he hopes is vaguely cheerful, though it's mostly curious and questioning. His other hand holds out a folded up towel which he then trots over, his bare feet oddly nimble despite the muck on the floor.

"Hi," he says. And that's about it.

[ le intro de wichita~ open! ]

[cons]

Holy hangover, Batman.

Is this a hangover? It must be. She only had some wine, and it's not like she was stumbling drunk last night, but she feels awful now. Her surroundings haven't even registered yet, mostly because she can't bring herself to open her eyes. But, let's say she fell out of bed, right? Hit the floor with a groan and now had to crawl her way to the nearest toilet in case she got sick. However, under her hands and knees isn't lush Bill-Murray-Mansion carpet, but cold steel. And she's freaking cold, which makes no sense, because she fell asleep fully dressed, under four blankets, in the middle of summer.

So. Obviously this isn't just a hangover. Great. Could this get any wei--

Ah, yes, she's basically naked. That explains the chill.

Wichita's just going to sit right here and and lean back on the glass tube she just got spit out of and try not to barf, if you all don't mind. She's peering around for her sister, but her eyes are still blurry with sleep, or whatever the hell it was she just experienced.

She'd deal with the half-naked thing later.

[goingsilent]

This go-around is almost relaxing compard to Kasumi's first time. It's not just that she knows what to expect from the pods and the tubes now -- and can force her body to stay relaxed while they do what they have to do -- but she doesn't feel the same need to scramble to get her bearings and then get out of sight. There are enough strangers among the others who have just emerged that one Japanese girl with a face few people have seen before isn't going to attract attention.

She gets rid of as much of the excess fluid as she can before retrieving her clothes and dressing, tucking her hair back under her hood. But then, curious, she cycles back around to the med-bay to inspect the other pods. It seems strange for them to have picked up extra passengers during what was supposed to be a jump.

The sitting girl attracts her attention because she's just sitting, not stumbling about or retching on the floor. Kasumi drops down into a crouch across the way from her and half-smiles.

"You look like you're new," she observes.

Open!

[handelaar]

He has that bleary, heavy feeling, like he nearly drowned to death and is just now waking up again - he can’t remember how that had happened, but it’s a familiar enough sensation that it’s comforting in an absurd kind of way. It takes him a few moments to realize that, hey, he’s still underwater. Well, that’s real damn annoying, but whatever.

Two seconds later he falls right out of the grav couch and hits the floor with low grunt, eyes flying open to see - nothing.

Immediately he sucks in a breath and scrambles back against the nearest surface, pulse racing, ignoring how sick the motions make him feel because goddamnit he has no idea what is going on and he wants his back against something. Anything. Even if it feels like metal and is fucking freezing.

He coughs - his throat burns - twists to glance around, straining to see and coming up with nothing. He can hear voices, though, and isn’t sure if that’s bad or good. But either way, he doesn’t wanna just sit here doing nothing, so he rakes his dripping hair out of his face and croaks out a “Hey” that even he can barely hear.

...well that sucked.

[fourseasons]

Japan had still been recovering from the feeling himself when that raspy hey brings back a certain memory. Yes, somehow the sense of having needed to recall that came up, but he brushes the oddness of that away to turn towards the voice. Maybe if the situation were any less serious he'd be more concerned with embarrassment, but for now there's just a worried and surprised sort of expression.

"Holland-san?" He's shocked to find it coming out rather airy, himself.

CLOSED to Roxanne

[megamind]

The second time in a grav couch -- since he knew he was going in, knew what was going on, and knew where he was when he woke up -- was easier than the first time. There was no screaming. There was no panic. Just a sense of vertigo and need to wobble away from this place where he was nearly naked.

In the locker room, he dragged a towel from his locker, and get the gunk off as quickly as he could. Then he got his jumpsuit and quickly got the DE-Gun re-holstered his hip before he activated his watch, putting the illusion of Megamind, Unarmed Alien In Jumpsuit to hide his weaponry. Thankfully, most people were still shuffling off or in the other room, and he felt safe that his secret was still secret.

Grabbing his communicator, he pocketed that, and checked to see if anything new had appeared in his locker. So far, nothing.

[notpanicking]

Eventually, she'd managed to make it into the locker room and to her locker though it certainly hadn't been without meeting a few...interesting individuals on the way.

However, she has no time to slip into that jumpsuit before she sees a very familiar, very blue figure.

Megamind.

How relieved she is to see him -- and she expresses this by quickly excusing herself from her current conversational partner in order to make a beeline in his direction.

"Megamind--" She starts to say something but it's lost in her emotions and instead of trying to speak words she simply embraces him and kisses him.

open ★ action or prose

[herocomplex]

Welp. This go around, America wasn't as disoriented as last time for one reason or another. He didn't think he was Bruce Wayne or anything... instead...
America squinted, unable to see very well without his glasses on, "W..Where am I; who am I--I need to save people.. what is this stuff and why does it taste funny--!"

Puffing out his chest, he wobbled slightly before pumping a fist in the air, "I AM CLARK KENT, AND I WILL SAVE THESE PEOPLE."

With that, he started to dart off, if not without slipping and sliding a bit like a new born deer or something. LIKE BAMBI. However, he pauses in mid step as memories slowly come back, and he remembers who he really is.

This seems all familiar to him.

"---This--!! They did it again! HOLY SHIT, I REMEMBER THIS. AND THE GOOP. IT TASTES LIKE SHIT. AND THE... NUMBER THINGO AND THE LOCKER AND THE TIGHT PANTS..." Yeah, he says that as he looks over at his jump suit and points it to it, "--IT MAKES MY ASS LOOK AWESOME."

"Okay, so now I just gotta figure out why we had to do this again.. though.. I.." He starts, as he babbles to himself, then adjusts his posture, "Tony! Where is Tony! And my gun, and the chainsaw I got.. and..." He rakes his fingers through his hair, gripping it slightly. "Oh my God; we all were sent back here, I remember now---! First thing is first-- get to the locker! Get all my shit; my gun! And find my chainsaw and Tony and... and that cocaine--!"

He says this as he gets in his jumpsuit and starts to bolt off again, Unfortunately, he's not really watching where he's going.

[purrfectlycute]

...which leaves him open to tripping over Nepeta because she's horrendously short and is sorta trying to get all the liquid off of her by rubbing up against every dry surface available. This includes the floor.

Upon getting a foot to her gut, she immediately gives a startled yowl and starts flailing about trying to grab a hold of whatever just ambushed her. SHE WILL BE NO ONE'S UNSUSPECTING PREY. NOT TODAY.

Open! tags may be delayed as I'm going out soon~

[fourseasons]

"Hah..."

He couldn't say his life has been free from strange incidents, but this was certainly strange enough to be alarming. Even if Japan couldn't quite pinpoint all of the "why"s right now, it was obvious that this wasn't right. Knees and hands on the floor, he coughs a bit as he tries to find the mind to do something. Anything.

...But he's too exhausted. A thought in the back of his mind is telling him he really should get back in shape at some point, but it's all too confusing to process properly right now.

As it is, he'll stumble to his feet and squint at the number on his arm for some time before trying to work his way towards the lockers. Anyone he bumps into on this clumsy journey will still be met with a bunch of apologies (even if he is still wheezing from exhaustion!).

[zoosmell]

"It's okay! It's like bumper cars in here, except not as fun and kinda more cold?" John thought it depended on what sort of bumper cars you were riding. If you were riding cold bumper cars, then it would be even colder than this. But he thought his analogy was rather apt, since everybody seemed a little woozy from something or other. But he was worried about the wheezing man, in a mildly worried way.

"Are you okay? Do you need any help?"