oasismods | JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

"-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾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.]

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[Steve broke out of his shock when Bucky pulled him into a hug and returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around him tightly.]

I've been looking for you, Jerk.

[As soon as Bucky released him he focused back on the problem they now faced. He nodded as he listened to Bucky's assessment.] I don't have my shield which I did have last I remember, and I don't remember how I got on that ship either. [Which was a problem to add to the list of problems they now faced.]

If we're leaking fuel we need to move these people out of range, I don't want this thing going up while we all mill about. The city might have some shelter but I would worry about the inhabitants.

The movie reference went right past the kid's head, and Daryl wondered if that was a gap in his memory, too. And if it weren't, just how isolated he'd been. But he didn't make that obvious as he stood there, fingering the knife he'd been given, watching James with as much wariness as he had the first time the guy stood up.

He held up his other hand, one finger up, "How many walkers you kill?"

Daryl already knew the answer, if the guy didn't even know what they were, but he still needed to ask. To see how James answered it.

Bucky floundered for a moment before he seemed to put together what 'walkers' were. They both knew the answer to that, but he could understand the need to ask.

"That's the dead getting back up? None." Something about the direction this was going, the way Daryl was looking at him, analysing him, it didn't make him squirm, but it made him uneasy. In the short time he'd been talking with Daryl, he'd fallen more in touch with who he used to be. Now he was falling back on the support of what HYDRA made him for stability.

[ He barks out a quick laugh. ]

Oh, yeah. At least there's that. [ He sounds more amused than derisive. ] "Hey, if I'm gonna die, at least it'll be with some nice scenery." Ambiance is important, you know?

That was interesting. The kid was tensing up. Not jumpy, not yet, but the questioning clearly upset him on some level. But more than that, he was either smart enough to quickly put two and two and four, or he already knew about walkers before Daryl had explained it.

He lifted a second finger, "How many people you kill?"

[ Padme knows she is lucky to have escaped a crash of this magnitude with nothing but a bleeding wound at the side of her head and a twisted ankle; in fact, what worries her more is that she has no recollection of ever ending up on the ship, of the crash. Of any of it.

She dabs at the wound gingerly, determined to be on her feet as soon as she can, to help, to speak to the other survivors, gather information -- her first instinct is to try and contact the Jedi Council, the Republic... but neither of those would offer any help, now, not when one no longer exists and the other has turned into something that makes her feel sick every time she thinks of it. But one thing is certain: they need help.

Her thoughts scatter at the sound of another voice, quiet and calm, and she turns to look up at a young man. Humanoid and yet not, she thinks, glancing at his hand-- a changeling, perhaps? She breathes out and summons a small smile. ]

Thank you for the offer... but I'm alright. Head wounds always look worse than they are.

You should see the place I came from. Beautiful views, lush grasslands, wildlife that would tear you apart as soon as look at you, and bandits around every corner.

[ Wryly, ] So this place feels just like home, is what you're saying?

Now Bucky was jumpy. He'd been afraid that line of questioning would lead down this path. He took a steady breath and lifted his gaze to meet Daryl's. This wasn't going to be fun for either of them.

"I don't know." The answer was honest. "I was a sniper in the war. But..." Barnes shifted, subconsciously moving a bit further away from Daryl, as if he wanted to run. He'd become very good at running from his problems lately. First HYDRA, then Steve, now... "I was captured by the enemy." He flexed the metal hand, pulling the arm close to his chest. "I was erased and turned into a weapon. Since then, I couldn't tell you how many people I've killed for them. Periodically, I was erased over and over again to keep me blank. Controllable."

He edged backwards, foot hitting one of the dislodged panels. The scraping sound made him flinch, sharp to his enhanced hearing. "I'm not--they don't control me anymore. I'm not their assassin. I'm James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant of the 107th Infantry. I was born March 10th in Brooklyn. 3-2-5-5-7-0-3-8. 3-2-5-5-7-0-3-8. 3-2-..." He breathed in sharply, closed his eyes, and focused on calming down.

"S-sorry... I'm sorry..." There might be a bit of PTSD there, Daryl.

A sniper. A fucking sniper. Just like Merle. Only this kid hadn't come back with a taste for any drug he could get his hands on to manage whatever shit he'd seen. He'd just come back completely messed up.

"Easy, kid," Daryl murmured, tone soft like he was talking to a spooked animal. He hadn't let go of the knife, but he had it held loosely, where it could easily be seen. Both hands were up and he was crouching a little as he approached. He knew closing in on him was dangerous, but he didn't need someone like him running and making things worse for himself.

He attempted to put his empty hand on the shoulder that wasn't metal, "You should sit down. Get your head between your knees. Deep breaths."

I haven’t run into any bandits or hostile wildlife yet, so only slightly.

Messed up was putting it mildly. Oddly enough, it wasn't the war that had screwed with him. He never saw the end of it. Presumed dead, he was left in enemy hands for over 50 years.

His back hit the bulkhead behind him when Daryl approached, but it seemed to steady him and draw him out of his panic to a degree. Grounding him and pulling him out of the overwhelming flood of memories he'd accidentally opened up upon himself. Fragmented and all terrible. Daryl's touch melted the tension out of his shoulders and he nodded. Buck slid down the bulkhead and pulled his knees close, bending forward and closing his eyes. Several deep breaths later, his head was clearing, the tremble of adrenaline rushing through him was calming down.

He wasn't sure how long it took him to pull out of it, but it made him feel pathetic that he'd dissolved into this to begin with.

"You've dealt with this before?" He asked slowly, almost warily.

Finn looks up at the shout, a relieved smile on his face as he relaxes. "Poe. I'm glad to see you."

He thought he was alone here, but then he'd been so disoriented and panicked by the crash that he hadn't even noticed many others. Hell, Poe could have been right beside him and Finn wouldn't have known.

He takes the bottle and takes a long swig, panting a bit when he pulls it away. "What...what happened? Where are we?" He doesn't even remember boarding a ship, but then he'd been in a medically induced coma for a while, so... "Did the First Order find us?"

Finn swears quietly under his breath, picking up a backpack and looking around. The movement is painful and he hisses. His back hasn't healed fully and probably won't for a while, but at least he's not at death's door.

"We should get out of here before this thing collapses. Last time I saw a downed ship, it sank. In sand." Fucking Jakku.

Hey, who knows? Maybe some of our shipmates are thieves in disguise.

[ says the thieving conman ]

And now that you've said that, I say give it like, fifteen minutes before something giant and angry comes careening around a corner.

"It ain't sinkin'," Daryl said, nodding at the hole in the hull not far from them and the proper exit already long blown open beyond that. "We're in something like a jungle. Ground is firm. Should worry more about it exploding."

The noise gets Finn's attention, thankfully, and wide brown eyes swivel over to the stranger. Help. Good. He doesn't even know what he's doing.

"Please." He's breathless, shaking slightly as he tries to calm himself down. Clint may not see any outward injuries, but they're there, hiding beneath the brown coat. At least he hasn't obtained any new ones, but he can't be too grateful when he's mid-panic attack and his back is on fire.

[ Tris still coming to, blinking in what light the gaping hole in the shuttle lets in, cringing at the alarms. Her head is spinning, her body aching, but-- why is she waking up, to begin with? The last thing she remembers... no, this doesn't make any sense. One hand finds her stomach. There's a large bloodstain on her shirt there, drying, apparently, but there's no wound under it that she can feel.

Someone's talking to her. Her head snaps up, startled, and her neck doesn't thank her for it, but she blinks at the unfamiliar face, paying the twinge no mind. ]

I- I think? [ She lets him help her out of the restraints, shrugging the rest of the way out of them as he does. ]

Yeah. Yeah I'm okay. [ Shaken, pale as a sheet. But she gets up. How can she be okay? What is this place? ]

This doesn't make any sense. [ Muttered more to herself as she looks around, trying to see everything, everywhere, all at once. There are other people, too. Not a familiar face among them. Fear, at least, is familiar. ]

Daryl's eyes left James' and he looked, for the first time, legitimately uncomfortable. Talking about his own issues and the unpretty things he and Merle had both dealt with wasn't easy. Even alluding to it was hard for him. Especially to someone he'd only just met.

And hell, if what he and his people had been through the last couple years couldn't count as trauma enough to drive a person crazy, he didn't know what did.

Daryl gave a single shoulder shrug and leaned back on his heels, thumb coming up to his mouth again. Stayed quiet. It wasn't an outright yes, but it wasn't a no. And James could draw his own conclusions from there. Kid was smart.

Instead, he said, "Guess that answers my third question well enough."

For their sake, let's hope that's not the case.

[ something slightly dark seeps into her tone on that one, but it's there and gone in a second ]

Get behind me if it does.

[ WELL THAT WAS A LITTLE TERRIFYING.

so maybe he won't tell her he's a career thief, even if he moonlights as a good guy from time to time.

He clicks his tongue, dismissive. ]

What happened to giving me a shot at talking down any scary, man-eating monsters that cross our path?

[ the afterimage remains burned into his retina long after the light is off his face. if han looked grumpy before, his expression somehow manages to up itself.

kids these days. no respect for their betters. B(

the limp, though noticed, goes unremarked upon. considering they landed roughly three-quarters of a ship, it could be a lot worse. besides, it's not like han's sending him off on a bad foot to rummage for tools. even he's not that uncaring. ]

Do I look like part of the crew? [ well, han, you are up to your elbows in the ship's guts. ] I was strapped to my seat same as you.

Taking it apart. What's it look like?

[ he understands the kid would be confused. that does not mean he'll be treated any differently.

#good guy han ]

[ excuse???? ]

I don't need help opening a —

You and me both, sister.

[ he spares her a cursory look — what is she, another princess or something? duchess? do duchesses still exist? — before returning his attention to the panel. she could be an empress; he'll still tell her to hold the light.

for want of gloves, he wrapped torn strips of cloth around his palms. it's hardly protection, but better than nothing. as soon as he has finished removing the last of the screws, han digs his nails underneath the panel's cover. ]

If you believe in anything, [ pushing the cover aside, ] now would be the time to ask 'em for a favor.

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Page 8 of 27

JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME

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shuttle.

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