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JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME
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.
With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.
gamora | guardians of the galaxy
While others dally around, groggy and shaken from their sudden and unanticipated arrival, she's gone ahead and thrown out the bags of supplies, out into one big pile. There, outside, she makes quick work of searching each and every one. She's already recovered two knives, already tucked away in her own belt. One hammer, too, although that's been set aside for the time being. Same with medical supplies, food, water; all in all, it looks like she's counting up what they have.
Just, you know, keeping the sharper bits for herself. Next bag rifled through, another knife found. Gamora holds it up into the light to inspect it with a discerning eye. She won't even look away when approached, instead offering a dismissive: ]
Don't even try it.
[ The third knife, probably deemed worthy, ends up stabbed into the ground by her for emphasis. ]
Just behave and maybe I'll let you have one.
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The Siren approaches the pile, raising her hands when Gamora makes her threat. ]
Wouldn’t it be better to divide the weapons as evenly as we can? We don’t know what’s living out there.
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You're right. We don't. [ She looks away from the latest backpack, taking a second to size Maya up. If she's approaching that diplomatically, chances of an immediate fight seem slim. ] I don't plan on taking every knife, but I'm not about to head out there alone until I'm properly armed.
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What constitutes “properly armed” to you? Because based on the number of knives you seem to have and the number of packs you’ve already gone through, weapons are a rare commodity.
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[ Although that requires her leaving them something to sharpen sticks with. As much as she would like to replace all of her own missing knives, she can't argue that the other woman is wrong. The rest are as lost as she is and she shouldn't be taking just anything she feels like taking, but she'd also been hoping to be long gone before any of them made their way out to call her on it. That makes it infinitely harder to simply abandon them to their fate.
All of which Gamora isn't about to say out loud. Instead, she turns away, back to her search and onto the next pack. In that one, she'll find another hammer, which, again, she sets aside with the other supplies. ]
I suppose I could live with only three.
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The impact knocked him unconscious for a few long minutes -- and wasn't that fun, waking up to the dulcet sounds of creaking metal and showering sparks? The first thing he had done was look for anyone familiar in the crowd around him, checked the bodies of the unconscious and the deceased just in case, before he finally scooped up his survival pack and the pack of a nearby John Doe and stepped out into the daylight.
Imagine his surprise when he finally spots a friendly face.
... Well, relatively friendly. (Do deadly assassins do friendly?)
He shoulders both bags and limps out (he's going to be damn sore tomorrow, he knows; crash landings like that are fun for absolutely no one), and in lieu of a proper greeting (Thank God you're here. I thought I was gonna have to deal with this shit by myself), he plops down to sit on the ground. He frowns at her, at the pile of packs she's already rummaged through, and almost looks disappointed. ]
I can't believe you started looting without me.
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She won't say so, but the relief of not being here alone is immense. Of course, instead of showing that, she'll only purse her lips at him in a most disapproving way and get back to her sorting. Yeah, that's it. ]
I'm not looting.
[ She so is. ]
Are you unharmed?
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Well, he's grining because of that, but also because that for a second there, he was expecting, like, a hallucination. Or maybe a Skrull. Just something pretending to be Gamora and then going, "Ha ha, tricked you, Bozo," and fading into nothing.
But she's still here, and she's still 100% looting, and man, is he glad to not have to tromp through Narnia or wherever the hell they are by his lonesome. ]
I'm about as well as any dude can be, considering we crash landed in some ship I don't even remember hopping into.
[ Which is to say, "Kind of shitty, but anything you can walk away from, right?" He lifts his good shoulder in a shrug. ]
I can sleep it off. What about you?
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[ "That minor", like she's been in other crashes. She probably has, but now's hardly the time to share those kinds of stories. Gamora picks something out of the current bag and tosses it to Peter. A bottle of water, likely the most useful thing she could offer at this point in time. ]
Did you see anyone else from the Milano? Rocket? Drax?
[ The tiny plant-like creature that may or may not be Groot?
Not that... she's worried or anything. ]
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The whole in her memory isn't, either, and it bothers her a lot more than she's letting on. The last time she didn't remember something was-
Oh. That's definitely a knife stabbed next to her feet. Yup. That's also one very green woman at the end of the said knife who looks pretty displeased. Not that Rose can blame her. ]
Oh, uhhhh. I don't really... want it. [ Wait. Oh, no, what if that offends her. ] I mean! Thanks for the offer and all, but. I'm good. Got my own pack and everything. So. Yeah. [ Smooth as crunchy peanut butter, this one. ]
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[ Gamora yanks the knife back out of the dirt and finds another spot on her belt to stow it away at. Offended? Hardly. More knives for her. ]
Whoever packed these didn't bother to distribute the supplies evenly.
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[ ... N-no. She had actually assumed all the packs had the same types of supplies in them. Looks like that isn't necessarily the case. That's what she gets, she supposes, for not actually checking.
Still, it isn't as if she actually needs a knife. It'd be handy but she can make due without. ]
It's got all I need. I'd, uhm, rather leave stuff for people who might need them more, y'know? [ Other people can't handle themselves. She can. Heaven forbid there's any children on this ship... Thankfully, she hasn't seen any so far even if there are some teenagers. ]
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[ Gamora's skeptical, but it's also not her problem. Though, she will at least add, as she moves on with her own search, ]
Well, I don't plan on stopping anyone from picking up other items from these, if someone happens to suddenly recall not having enough food in their own.
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sorry about the delay! life and school caught up to me
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[ Kory is eyeing the bags Gamora's already looked through. She will keep a machete for the forest, practicality, and safety reasons. She has no wish to incinerate everything in her way. ]
Are you finished with these?
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[ Which may not make it any better. Who knows. That said, if she isn't trying for a knife, Gamora will find another place on her belt for it, along with the other two. ]
The ones in that pile. [ She nods to the left, indicating those bags. ] You can go through those, if you'd like.
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[ She opens a bag. It has rope, some rations, and a spare pair of boots. Kory opens another and switches out what she doesn't need: keeping the ropes and the food. There's a lighter as well, which she won't need, she puts that back in the moment after examining it. ]
I am Koriand'r.
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[ Gamora's basically looting, as it is. She's simply more willing to fight for certain items. She watches Koriand'r for a moment, then, deciding she likely isn't a threat (yet), gets back to her own business. ]
My name's Gamora.
[ She offers a name, although warily, while still keeping a watch on the other woman from the corner of an eye. For any reaction, mostly. ]
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[Daryl's voice was low, just as threatening as hers, but he was holding himself back at a safe distance. He knew trouble when he saw it. And She-Hulk was definitely trouble.
How the hell was her skin so green?]
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Then you should hope I find more than three.
[ Though Why she needs three knives isn't something she'll share outright, but Daryl's caution is wise. She can go from no trouble at all to the worst trouble at this crash site in no time at all. Preferably, it won't come to that. ]
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He needed the knife because it was useful tool.]
I'll bring it back, then. And if you've found another when I do, I'll keep it.
[Daryl lifted his chin, then nodded his head to the right.]
Got my own set up around the side. But you got more backpacks out than I did. Ain't no knives in them. Just a couple hammers.
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Oh. Oh. She was talking about the knife. And, to be fair, he doesn't think Gamora knows who it is that's approached her. He can be pretty quiet if there's soil around, and there's plenty of that here, wherever here is.
Still, he's gentle as he extends his hand again, pointing towards the gash on her temple. ] I am Groot.
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But this?
The all too familiar words startle her away from her ongoing looting, jerking her head around to look at him. It isn't common for someone like her to gape at anything, though she does now, just a little. ]
Groot? [ She stands, dropping the latest pack in hand as she rises. ] You're--
[ "You're you", but what a stupid sounding thing to say. Instead, she pauses, frowning and puzzled at his pointing for a second before remembering, ah, right. She reaches up to brush a fingertip against the gash. ]
That? That will heal on its own. It's nothing.
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At being called out, Athena only scowls and keeps her distance. She recognizes a tone that means business when she hears it. ]
I was only getting a closer look.
[Athena wasn't programmed to lie. Even if her body is now humanoid, it's not a habit she wants to get into. She also doesn't wish to get into the habit of making enemies here. Without her skills she had been created with she understands that she is at a weakness here. It wasn't a wise move to make enemies first thing. This logic caused her to slowly move into sight.]
The backpack I found doesn't have anything to protect myself in it. Would you be willing to make a trade?
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She gives Athena a long, thoughtful look before saying anything else. On one hand, yes, it wouldn't do for the child to be defenseless, but-- ]
No. You won't have anything I would need to trade for. [ That said, Gamora pulls the knife free of the ground. ] Have you ever defended yourself with a knife before?
[ A serious question. While she does see her as a little girl, she isn't going to condescend down to her. ]
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[Her answer is simple and curt. She doesn't need to elaborate or make up excuses. She knows it's likely not that far fetched a response for someone that looks as young as she is.]
I understand the basics of using one though. At least -
[There's a hesitation as she looks at the knife in Gamora's hand.]
I think I understand the basics. I know that I look young, but I need to be able to keep myself safe just the same as anyone else here.
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