JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

[oasismods]

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐"

You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...

You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.

You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.

Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.

"W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ"

With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.

---

[MOD NOTES: TDM threads may be used as game canon.]

Comments

Daryl Dixon | The Walking Dead

[dirtyredneck]

Waking Up
Daryl was pretty disorientated when he came to. Being strapped into something as high tech as he was shouldn't have been possible. Not with the world the way it was. He unbuckled himself and slid out of the seat, landing hard against the floor before sliding the two feet across the isle into the body opposite him. The occupant was dead and no someone he recognized. Hell, nothing he saw was anything he recognized beyond the clothes on his back.

The dead body he was leaning against wasn't moving or trying to grab him, so unless it's brain stem got severed in the crash, because this was definitely a crash of some sort, it was recently dead enough not to reanimate. Yet. Daryl wasn't going to chance it and patted himself down for his knife.

Which was missing.

"Shit," he muttered and lunged across the space back to the seat he'd been in. The footing wasn't good, the transport he was in sitting too much at an angle to stay upright without effort. But the belts used to strap him in could also be used to brace him while he took a look around. It didn't take long to figure out there were backpacks under the seats with some very basic supplies. So the transport was probably a military one. Only question was, how in the hell had he gotten on it and who were the others he'd been traveling with?

At the sound of another person coming to, Daryl jerked his head around to watch them carefully.

Welcome to the Jungle
He'd grabbed three backpacks from beneath the seats of the dead and used a broken off piece of metal bracing that had twisted out of place to stab each one of those bodies through the eye. They hadn't yet gotten to the point of walking again, but he wasn't taking any chances. There were more backpacks under the seats. Just that Daryl couldn't carry that much alone and the angle of the ship was one he didn't want to fight with. And, well, there were other people in there, too.

Some of them had woken with him. Some would wake up soon enough. And they'd wake up outside the ship because he'd unbuckled all the wounded and living he could that were still out of it and brought them out. Laid them out as comfortably as he could while he started going through the supplies he'd grabbed for himself. They could scavenge their own.

But since they were the only people around that he could see, he'd wait until they woke up before he went exploring any further. Maybe they knew what was going on.

[zimasoldier]

Bucky had been in and out of consciousness for several minutes now, but he was finally pulling fully out of his daze. The soldier took stock of his position, the straps around his chest, and the ache of his body. A helicopter crash? Had the Handlers found him again? He couldn't give away his awareness. He evened out his breathing before opening his eyes, which adjusted quickly to the darkened interior. Not a helicopter, then. Some kind of carrier?

The man across from him stirred and the soldier instinctively reached for his knife--it was gone. All of them were gone, as well as his guns and various explosives. But as he watched Daryl move and react, he seemed just as lost. Then he made sure the dead stayed dead and began moving the unconscious and wounded outside. Somehow the man's actions felt... right. So when Dixon passed him, he ignored the programmed instinct to lash out like a concealed snake and instead, cleared his throat subtly then unbuckeled his harness.

"Those men were already dead." James commented coolly, voice rough with disuse. He grabbed a backpack and rifled through it to take inventory of what he had.

He opted to offer Dixon a hand and wrenched a mangled seat out of the narrow path so Daryl could reach the rest of the survivors. The metal plates in his arm shifted and locked, preparing for the stress of the weight before he twisted it from the bulkhead completely to relocate the mess of metal and pleather out of the way.

[dirtyredneck]

The man with the metal arm. Daryl had pinned him for being unconscious the whole time and had been planning on leaving him for last. He looked dangerous, but more than that, he looked heavy. And Daryl figured he'd best move the people who were lighter out of the way before attempting to tackle a load like that.

When the man spoke, Daryl clutched his make-shift weapon all the tighter. And when the man pulled a seat up and twisted it off like it was little better than a turkey leg, Daryl braced himself against another seat and reassessed the threat the man held. He had the look of someone trained to fight. And while Daryl hadn't seen many prosthetics in his day, he knew they weren't nearly that advanced before the outbreak. At least not for the everyday folk. Which meant this guy was military. And that supported Daryl's suspicion of being picked up by the wrong group of survivors at some point. When though?

He remained where he was, watching the man for several moments before giving a grunt of acceptance at the help he was clearly providing in getting the rest of the wounded and unconscious. Whoever the man was, he wasn't out to hurt anyone. Not immediately. Daryl would have to watch him, but he could use the help.

"Making sure they stay that way," he answered like the man was stupid. His own voice gruff, accent pinning him from somewhere south of the Mason Dixon line. "Grab the backpack off the bottom of that one and put it outside with the others."

[zimasoldier]

Bucky's brows drew together in confusion briefly at the statement. He'd think it a joke if it hadn't been delivered without even a skipped beat or bat of an eye. He paid the slight tension absolutely no mind. Even his Handlers, at times, treated him like an attack dog that might bite them--truth was, he just might now that memories were flooding back. But this man was, as far as he could tell, not HYDRA. He lacked a distinct logo and didn't quite fit the bill. At all.

"Do they usually not?" The question was out before he could mull over whether he should even speak again or not. Well, okay then. He'd spent the past several months avoiding people, trying to put his own mind back together, and now he was just going to carry on a bizarre conversation with Mr. Backwater Gent with a heart of Gold.

Upon the order, he immediately acted, picking up the backpack and carrying it outside. He dropped it off and only then did he realise that he'd followed through without question. He'd have to focus on shaking that lingering twitch of the programming. Not that Daryl had been wrong in the command or that he would have disagreed with it, but had it been something worse, he would have still acted.

He returned to Dixon's side, moving to help him carry whomever he started dragging out now. "Do you remember boarding this craft or who owned it?"

[dirtyredneck]

"No." Daryl stilled, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Two years in and there was no way anyone didn't know that. Not if they were alive.

He stood up as best he could and watched the other man do as he'd said. Acted like he was used to taking orders. Was it possible the military had kept some of their own in the dark about the virus? For that long? Naw, that didn't make no sense. Of course, Daryl had just woken up in the middle of God knows where, surrounded by God knows who, for God knows what, and God knows how it happened.

And then golden boy was asking the same questions Daryl was asking himself, which halfway shot his theory to hell. So maybe the military did have their ways of making people forgot. Really forget. Or maybe it was a group of survivors who got their hands on enough military tech and supplies it didn't make much difference. Only thing Daryl knew for sure was he didn't have enough information to make a good educated guess. Not yet. That, and if the anyone else didn't know what was going on with the dead, they would have to learn fast. Not if any of them were going to survive for long.

He shook his head and got his arms under the shoulders of the next person, "Nope."

After another few seconds of silence, he offered, "Anyone dies, you get 'em in the head as fast as you can. Gotta be the brain or they'll be up and walking and you'll be the only thing on the menu."

[zimasoldier]

"Understood."

Given the man's response, Bucky was starting to get the feeling he might have found himself in cryo again somehow. Frozen but not wiped? Maybe whatever happened had left HYDRA without the time to reprogram him. Tossed him in storage and something else went wrong. Who knew what year it was now. He'd go with that for the time being.

"How long?" Full sentences, Barnes. "...has this been going on? My memory's been full of holes for--a long time." He opted against dropping the WWII bomb just yet.

[dirtyredneck]

Full of holes. To a much greater extent than Daryl's was. That was just fucking peachy.

"Not sure," Daryl answered, taking a deep breath while they got the body laid out so the person could wake in relative comfort. When he straightened, he stretched his back and looked from the other man and to the transport. He didn't have knife, just the metal bar, but the man seemed strong enough not to need one. Could be useful in salvaging something other than the back-packs.

"We lost track of the days pretty quickly," he continued, voice getting quiet. His thumb came up to his mouth as he started back into the ship. "Can't give you anything exact, but it's been about two winters and three summers."

With a lot of the lower seats cleared of bodies (except for the dead ones), the backpacks they held could be grabbed. Or the seats themselves. Which is what Daryl wanted. That and what was under them or in the ceiling. He waved a hand along the isle, "Think you can rip all these out? Be easier to cut them up if they are. Need to get to the wiring under it all, too."

[zimasoldier]

"So roughly two or three years?" Okay, that wasn't too bad. He'd been in storage longer than that if the broken memory fragments bleeding through were any indication. That didn't mean this had only started two or three years ago, unfortunately, so he was still uncertain, but it was a start. "That gives me some sort of time frame to start with, I guess. Uh--thanks?" Yes, manners. He was raised a proper young man in Boston, might as well act like it if he had any chance of reconnecting with his life before the fall. He wasn't the same man anymore, but he was human again. Mostly.

Buck nodded an affirmative at the question and flexed the metal arm, servos giving off a soft whirr and plates shifting. "What are you using the wiring for?" How long had it been since he'd been able to actually question an order given to him? He was effectively a brainwashed weapon for HYDRA until that programming began to fall apart, thank you Captain America.

Barnes moved back into the drop ship, working on the first row of seating. A combination of the metal arm, his Serum enhanced strength, and the training he already had before being turned into a living weapon, he made short work of the first few seats, carrying them out to set on the ground without breaking so much as a sweat.

[dirtyredneck]

"Little over two," he clarified, bending down at the opened floor to start pulling out what wires he could. "It went global near the start of the first summer. It's late in the third summer now. Nearing to fall."

Daryl paused and lifted a hand to his chin, thumb rubbing under his lip before he chewed at it a moment. When he let it go, he let out a huff of air, "Least it was last I can remember."

He went back to pulling out as much of the wiring and cable as he could, wrapping it around one hand, "This is for snares. Got nothing to cut the rope with even if it weren't too thick. And I ain't seen anything else thin enough or long enough. If any of us are gonna survive this, we're gonna need to eat something other than what was left us."

And someone took his crossbow, so he couldn't easily go on a more proactive hunt anyway. And he wasn't going to stay at the wreckage, either. Those dead bodies and all that blood would begin to smell too good for the local wildlife to stay away from, no matter how cautious they might be over the noise of the crash. Assuming there were any predators around. And if not predators, well Daryl wasn't going to bank on there being a lack of walkers. The noise alone would draw them in and he didn't know how much time they had. Wreck wasn't in any shape to be used as decent shelter, neither.

we've got fun and games??

[hasitsthorns]

Rose was one of the mentioned few that had woken up around the same time as Daryl. She counted her lucky stars that she had woken up after seeing what became of some of the other crew. Thankfully, they weren't anyone she recognized. Neither was Daryl though he'd caught her attention for another reason. That reason being the way he stabbed the dead through their eye. It makes her curious enough that she figures it can't hurt to ask-

"Why did you do that?"

Brutality isn't something Rose is new to. She understands, sometimes, that it has to happen. Kill or be killed was her life for a long, long time. But she respects the dead. There's no point in mutilating them further.

"To the dead, I mean." She realizes it might not be something he wants to talk about even for as much as she wants to know, however, so she adds just in case: "You don't, uh, have to tell me. I just wondered was all." There had to be a reason, after all. At least, she hoped there was a reason.

[dirtyredneck]

Were all the other people the group that got them that oblivious? He didn't have time to teach everyone how to deal with walkers.

...or, rather, he probably did, seeing as how he didn't know where he was or how much time had passed since he'd been taken. Didn't mean he wanted to, though.

She looked young, though. College-aged maybe. Bright eyed and well-fed. Like the people of Alexandria that had never ventured outside their walls. Didn't know what it was really like out there. Where it was kill, re-kill, or be killed.

Daryl met her eyes with his and walked past her to the dead body two seats down. He held her eyes as he grabbed it by the head. He looked away when he had to line up his piece of metal. But he looked back as he jammed it hard through the eye socket and pulled it back out, "Ain't got no knife to make it pretty."

He wiped the metal on the shirt of the now-definitely-dead body before yanking it forward and tapping the back, right at the nape of the neck, "Easier to slip one in here if you can. But anyway you go about it, you gotta get the brain. Don't let 'em bite you, don't let 'em scratch you."

[hasitsthorns]

Despite what her appearance may tell him, she doesn't look away as he jabs the corpse through the eye. There's a small flinch - that's a natural reaction, right? - but otherwise she seems to be not as squeamish as one might guess. She doesn't like it, of course, but it's... not actually anything new to the blond. That life may be a good thirty years behind her now but parts of it still linger. Always will, probably.

"Not sure a knife would be much 'prettier,' but I'll take your word for it." Rose listens to him say that she needs to the brain, but this really isn't answering her initial question of 'Why?' He mentions not letting them bite or scratch... Suddenly, years of TV and movies come to mind. 'When the dead walk' as taglines and campy, cheesy teenage horror flicks about viruses and the like causing people to reanimate.

That was just television though, right? People didn't actually come back to life, right?

"Uh. Are you trying to tell me that people who die might not be like dead dead? Dead for good?" Since, in her reality, that's only in the realm of science-fiction at this point. And it leads to the realization that maybe, just maybe, they might not all be from the same place.

[dirtyredneck]

"They're dead," he answered as he started looking for another body to make sure it stayed dead. "Rot the same. They just stay hungry and moving."

Daryl didn't have much sympathy for those like her. Who were so protected they thought it was all just some made up fantasy. That was the impression he was getting from her. She cringed more than anything at the death, which he'd been surprised by. Expected her to gasp and gag or try to cover her eyes maybe. But other than that, she didn't seem that different than the kind of rich pricks that had looked down on him all his life. Too clean and pampered for her own good.

"Get out of here," he said after another moment of study, waving at the holes in the hull that acted as exits. "Make yourself useful to someone."

After a beat, just to make it clear he wasn't dismissing her on appearances sake, he huffed out some air and muttered in a kinder tone, "We got a lot to do, can't stand around jawing the whole time."

[hasitsthorns]

'Hungry and moving.' Just like those shows and movies back home that are all supposed to be in the realm of fantasy. Something that can't actually touch them, something that was so distant. Was that his actual life? Rose can't fathom it. Well, at least, not from a human perspective at any rate. The Makai was a kill or be killed world, but that was just. Normal. For her kind it was normal, anyway. The dead walking in the Ningenkai though? That wasn't.

She isn't sure what to say to that - is there anything she can say? - but he kind of resolved that for her with his dismissal. "Oh, uh, right - You're right." There were people injured, supplies to gather, things to do. She... wasn't actually planning on helping anyone (would probably just get in the way, she thought) but she can try and figure out something even she can't screw up. Probably. Exploring didn't seem like a bad idea. That was a solo sort of thing but she could report back her findings, at least. Yeah. Yeah, she'll do that.

"My name's Rose, by the way. If you need any help with anything, let me know! And, uh, thanks. For doing... this." Vague awkward gesture to the people with holes through their heads "We got enough to worry about, so. Making sure even more bad stuff doesn't get sprung on everyone is pretty nice of you." Even if he might have been doing it initially only out of self-preservation, it still would benefit everyone regardless.

"That's, uh. All. I'm gonna'. Go now."

Smooth as sandpaper, this one.

[dirtyredneck]

"Stick close," he called back over his shoulder. She was definitely not used to living on her own or taking care of herself. Not in the way she needed to be. It was in the way she held herself and the way she spoke.

"Sort through some of those back packs and take stock of what supplies we got," he suggested. And this time it was a suggestion rather than a dismissal. "Need to figure out how long it will last those of us that survived this..." Daryl waved his hand in a circle, indicating the wreck.

After another moment of consideration, he turned to face her, one arm going up to steady him on the awkward incline, "Daryl."

[hasitsthorns]

He's right on both accounts. Rose was more often surrounded by people than not; the faces may change on a practically daily basis but they were there all the same. Taking care of herself was also something she wasn't the best at and for a mix of different reasons. She got by, of course, but only because she always had the means to. Without them, she was definitely at a loss. That isn't to say she wouldn't figure it out though. Rose is nothing if not, perhaps surprisngly, determined to live.

"Okay, sure. I'll get on that." Supply gathering, huh? She can totally do that too. It's actually a little bit of a relief, even if she'd never admit it, to have a reason to stick close to everyone as well. Besides! Who can mess up taking stock of supplies? ... Her, probably, but she isn't going to discredit herself just yet. She's just about to to taking the best count of supplies anyone has ever seen ever when Daryl turns towards her.

Him offering his name gets a smile bigger than one might expect in this situation. "Nice to meet you, Daryl! I mean, uh. The circumstances are kind of screwed up, but. Still." #2awkward4lyfe "Anyway, right. Let me... do this thing." Y'know, the. The supply gathering thing.

[dirtyredneck]

He lifted his chin in in lieu of a wave. Kept his mouth shut otherwise. Then stared at her for close to a minute, unsure if he should do anything else since she was just kind of standing there, too. With a hard gulp of air, he gave a nod and turned around to make his way deeper in, get back to taking care of the dead.

If they were lucky, once they got themselves set up in a base of sorts, they'd be able to come back and bury those that didn't make it. Didn't have names for any of them. But they could at least have the dignity of a grave.

[pinner]

Athena was also in the process of scavenging what she could find. She had the "good fortune" of looking far younger than she actually was, which meant that anyone she had come across so far was far too nosy about her well being and too inclined to try and force assistance upon her. Not one to ever allow fate to control life, she kept as quiet as possible and began exploring on her own.

She was so caught up in attempting to free a backpack from under a seat that she didn't notice she had company directly nearby. It was only after she heard a movement that she gasped softly and abruptly stopped moving so she could slowly turn her head and look over.

The man she saw didn't look particularly threatening sorting through his belongings, but that didn't stop her from sitting up a little straighter and tugging on the backpack more roughly. It came free with the added force but she also managed to send herself crashing backward to land on her backside.

[dirtyredneck]

"Watch it!" Daryl barked at her, upper lip curling in a sneer as he pulled one of his bags closer to himself and away from where she'd fallen. As if he suspected she might try to steal it and had engineered the fall to look accidental for the sake of getting near enough to grab and run. Enough people had been grabbing more backpacks than were their fair share and raiding them as it was. He'd protect his own if he had to.

Even if it was from a strip of a girl.

[pinner]

"Watch what?" She tried mimicking his tone as she scrambled to roll over onto her belly and push herself up into a sitting position. It sounded strange coming out of her mouth so she tried speaking once again, this time in a voice that was familiar to her.

"You, you mean?" There was a hint of amusement to her tone as she looked him over. She pulled the backpack she had grabbed into her lap and watched him. She wasn't sure if he would be hostile and do anything to her after a greeting like that.

"Don't worry. I don't want any of your things. I've found my own. See?" The backpack in her lap was nodded toward, like it explained everything.

[dirtyredneck]

"Watch yourself," he clarified in a gruff, growly tone. Like a dog that wasn't sure of the one reaching out to pet it. Allowing it tentatively, but wary and ready to bite if he caught wind of a threat.

"It best stay that way," Daryl grumbled, transferring all of the stuff he'd found to one of the bags and throwing the extra, empty packs in on top of it all. His jaw moved, grinding his teeth some before he dipped his head and looked away, rubbing at his nose with the back of one hand. "How many water bottles you got in there?

[pinner]

She was quietly sorting through the contents of her backpack when he spoke. Used to promptly answering when asked a question, she took a count of her supplies before looking up at him.

"Only four," she sighed. She wasn't sure if that was a good number or not, but she knew that humans needed water. He was likely interested in obtaining more.

"I have food, a blanket, and flashlights as well. But no weapon. Would you be willing to trade?" He seemed gruff enough that he might be more willing to talk if she offered a trade instead of just handing over the things he was asking about.

[dirtyredneck]

Four bottles of water? All three of his only had two in them. One had a pack of matches and another a small first aid kit holding only some bandaids and some thread and needles. If she'd found a pack with four, she was off to a better start than most.

He shook his head, "No weapons in mine, either. Give you another blanket for extra batteries for the flashlight."

Daryl figured keeping herself warm would be more important than the light. At least for the time being.

[pinner]

She didn't technically need the flashlight. But everyone else here seemed so eager to cling hold of what supplies they had that she wanted to fit in. She was reluctant to agree. But she eventually did nod, leaning forward to hand over the flashlight to him. She took a moment to dig into her bag and produce extra batteries to hand over as well.

"Some people have weapons," she informed him, making eye contact. "Do you know anyone on board that shouldn't have one?" They could be in trouble if the wrong people find backpacks with knives and hammers. She had spotted people with both of them.

[dirtyredneck]

"Keep the light," he said, taking the batteries and handing the torch back to her. He just wanted the extra because he knew he'd be using them when he went to scout out the ruins and check the snares at night. The ones he was going to set once he found something thin enough and long enough to use. The rope they'd been given was just too thick for his taste. It could work in a pinch, but a lot of the smaller animals, rabbits and the like, they'd be able to pull their heads out before it tightened enough. Not all of them, but most of them.

As her new question, he held her eyes for a second, then let them drop as he shuffled the items in his pack around so it would sit better on his shoulder, "Ain't met many people yet. But if'n they don't know how to use it, then thems the ones that shouldn't have it. Why? You think you see someone you wouldn't want having one?"