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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.
Peter Quill | Guardians of the Galaxy
Nope, sorry, storytime is temporarily on hold, seeing as how the crash knocks Peter unconscious.
He wakes in the darkness a few minutes after the impact, when the lights have died and the exposed wires sizzle and pop. He takes stock of himself -- two arms, two legs, a head, and the appropriate number of fingers and toes -- before he finally wrestles with the harness and stumbles out of his seat. Fuck, his shoulder aches something awful, and he's going to be sore as hell come tomorrow. Assuming tomorrow ever comes, wherever this is.
... Where the hell is he, anyway?
There are others on the ship, still. He sees shadowy forms thanks to the light streaming in through the breach in the bulkhead -- and he only notices the presence of the bags when he spots others walking away with them. He grabs up one, claims another from a John Doe, and rummages through it until he finds the flashlight, which he wields with impunity. He casts the light around, examining the interior of the damaged fuselage, and lets out a low whistle. ]
This is a real fixer-upper, huh?
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From her aches, pains, and the smell of blood wafting on the air Rose can already assume something went terribly wrong before she even opens her eyes. She isn't going to either (play opossum just in case looters come to the wreckage of wherever they are) but that whistle startles her. It's the first distinct thing she's heard beyond quiet mutters and groans of pain from everyone else. So her eyes flutter open and adjust to the strange mix of dim auxiliary lighting and random flashlight beams. ]
I've seen worse. At least the whole thing is still, uh, mostly standing. That's a plus. [ The blond knocks on her seat instinctively; 'knock on wood.' Does it count? Probably not, but it's the closest thing to wood in this metal death trap she's got. ] They were kind enough to make sure I was buckled too. Save lives, y'know! I guess I'll have to th-
[ There was going to be more to that but she was finagling with her harness while speaking. She got it unlocked easily enough but wasn't prepared for the sudden release. The woman squeaks, faceplants into walkway, and sighs. She lifts an arm and gives it a dismissive wave along with a self-depreciating laugh. ] I'm okay!
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Ah, yep, that's a flopped-over hot chick, alright.
He jumps, alarmed, then moves to crouch beside her. Once she says she's fine, Peter heaves out a sigh -- n-not that he was worried or anything, baka -- and puts on his smirkiest smirk. ]
Fallin' head over heels for me already? We haven't even really met yet.
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Well! That was rather dashing of you coming to my aid like that, I must say. [ Unnecessary, since she was just being a dolt and not paying attention, but still appreciated. His sense of humor is also something she appreciates; it makes her feel just a little less anxious about not knowing what in the tarnation is going on around here. ]
My name's Rose. So now we've met! [ The blond gives a little wiggle to make sure everything's not more damaged than it already was from the crash. No new aches and pains (except for a headache now thanks to her tumble) so that's good. ] Mind helping a gal up?
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[ Peter stands, then, brushing himself off and offering her a hand -- both by way of handshake and to help her up. ]
Peter Quill. People call me Star-Lord. [ yes hold on to those dreams child. ]
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Works for me. I mean. I'm looking pretty scrubby myself, I'm sure. [ Jeans and a T-shirt. It's her usual choice of attire but normally without the splats of blood and grime. The blood isn't hers yet she actually doesn't know if that's better or worse. Best not to think about it too much for now.
She takes his hand to help hoist herself up. ] No way! The Star-Lord?
[ GASP! ]
I've never heard of ya', sorry. But if it's any consolation, that is a totally rad name.
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Thanks. Wish I could take credit for it.
[ He pulls Rosie to her feet. ] You alright?
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While blood decorates her forehead, it seems she's one of the lucky ones. There's no visible gash, either. Despite the circumstances, she's made it out all right. And she's relieved to see at least another on their feet.]
I'd say scrap it after all of this. Whatever this actually is.
[Not that she's never heard of spaceships or shuttles before, but- well she's inside, so she can hardly imagine that must be what she's on. After all- how and why would she end up in a place like this to begin with? She's never even been a plane.]
Are you all right?
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Pretty sure that's my line, actually. [ He gestures to his own forehead by way of explanation. He doesn't see a wound, but still. Better to ask, right? ]
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Ah-
[With a wave, she brushes away the concern, though is glad for it.] Don't worry about that. I'm more confused than anything. [Which is nothing but the truth. Considering she has no recollection of how she's gotten here, it's cause for worry.]
What just happened? [And then with a shake of her head.] I mean other than the obvious. Where are we? [There's the hope that he might have more answers that she presently does.]
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I uh, have no idea. To both questions.
[ He casts his light around at the fuselage again -- looks like a lot more people are starting to wander off, knapsacks in tow. Lots of dazed faces, at the very least, and Peter frowns. ]
I'm getting the feeling you and me aren't the only ones in the dark, though.
[ A pause, and he casts her a sidelong glance. ] Pun not intended.
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Puns tho...
As unfortunate as it is, they don't have much choice but to probably follow suit with the others. As long as everyone is off the ship that hasn't already- well, that can't make it off.]
I hate to admit it, but I think you're right. [They wont be able to really tell if they share any similarities at all until everyone's off board. They can collectively gather information once safely off. Eyes glancing around, she finds a knapsack of her own and pulls the bag down.
. . . Before pulling a second one down with a frown along side it. They should probably take out all they can, right? There's no telling what they're walking out into.]
We should probably get off this thing.
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[ He watches as she takes up the knapsacks, then tilts his head towards the two he has hanging from his shoulder. ]
Food and water and survival supplies. I checked already. I mean, if nothing else, they don't seem to want us to croak right off the bat -- crash-landing aside.
[ For a second, his expression is grim, but it passes. Brightly, ] So that's something, right?
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There is nothing to be salvaged here.
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Peter blinks surprised, but-- well, she's certainly not the strangest woman he's seen. And, you know, she's hot, so Peter's willing to let the orange thing go.
And the hovering thing. That's a little harder to ignore, but Peter is nothing if not a trooper. ]
I dunno, bit of elbow grease and a quick spit-shine, and it might be as good as new.
[ There's a pop followed by a shower of sparks and a worrying groan of metal soon after he says that. ]
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We must leave.
[ Why not pick up two or three of these bags? She can certainly carry them. ]
Hurry.
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Peter readjusts the packs hanging from his shoulder -- he's sticking with two, for now; best to travel light, in case there's a lot of traveling to be had -- before nodding toward the breach acting as their exit. ]
Ladies first?
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[ Tactically sound. Kory can withstand a lot of punishment, and he looks totally human. She walks in confident strides out, and looks around. ]
Watch these. I'll look for the nearest settlement.
[ She doesn't think he'll steal them and run away, but at any rate she's not worried about that. She'd catch him. So Peter is left holding the bags while she heads up. ]
There, straight ahead.
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Even with the delayed awakening, Groot knows something is wrong. This isn't the Black Aster, and it's certainly not the Black Aster after Rocket had crashed a ship into it. He couldn't feel the heat of the flaming wreckage or the whole place plummeting out of the sky.
A tremor runs through him. He can't feel his friends.
But the edge of a flashlight catches his face and he blinks. That voice... ]
I am Groot...?
[ Had they made it? ]
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How do you miss a guy as big as that?
Peter freezes for half of a second when he spots Groot -- maybe he'd hit his head on reentry, and his mind was playing tricks on him? But the half-second comes and goes, and Groot doesn't disappear.
Which is a goddamn relief, because that means he doesn't have to deal with this bullshit on his own. And it's also a good thing, because the second half of that second sees him dashing toward Groot. ]
Hey, big guy, take it easy.
[ He stands in front of him, crouching a little to check Groot for damage -- broken or missing limbs, cracked vines, whatever. Sure, he knows now that the guy can grow back practically everything, but Peter's gotta imagine that shit still hurts. ]
You alright, man?
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I've seen and been in worse.
[Since small talk is a thing that's apparently happening though she just goes along with it and smiles. As he shines the light she moves in to examine things too, hands moving to touch things like she wants to try and fix them. She has a flashlight in her own backpack but she wants to conserve the energy for things that can actually be repaired. What she's doing now is just moving her hands to get out some of the nervous energy she's feeling.]
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Anything in this scrap heap worth salvaging?
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[She laughs, because It's a Small World is literally the most colorful and quaint but horrifying thing she's ever seen in her entire existence. It's better than crash landing in an unknown place though. At his question, she turns back toward the seats.]
There's backpacks of supplies stored under the seats. I know it may seem wrong, but we should take the packs from the seats where people have died. They won't be needing them.
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[ In any case, Peter's practical, and at her suggestion, he nods. She's not wrong, after all; but she also looks like she's, like, ten years old. So-- ]
Surprised to hear that coming from you. No offense, but you'd think I'd have to be the one talking you into casual corpse looting.
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[Both eyebrows arch and there's a hint of a smirk as she turns to lead the way toward some seats where she knows backpacks are still waiting to be found. She grabs one from beneath a seat, and then a second from the one next to it. The individuals in the seats above them are most definitely deceased, and she spares them a brief sad glance before she moves on.]
Here. Take this. [She tosses one of the backpacks to him.]
No offense, but you don't exactly look like someone who's had to loot a corpse before.
[And clearly she does since she looks so old and hardened by the world.]
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