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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.
no subject
"We got ourselves a third," Daryl said, not really to change the topic, but to give a heads up. "Well, fourth. Counting your friend. She's about twelve or thirteen. Dark hair, blue dress like she's ready for a Sunday picnic. All smiles and eager to help out. Goes by Athena."
no subject
"Twelve or thirteen? She's just a kid." Whoever sent them here had the gall to kidnap innocent children too? Survivalists and soldiers he could understand, but kids? His big brother instincts were flaring up. "She a run-away?" Not that he's hoping for that, but it's a better option than knowing she was snatched away from her parents and dropped in the middle of nowhere with potentially dangerous things lurking in the wilderness... that left a bad taste in his mouth.
no subject
"Get your friend and head out with whatever supplies you can carry. Secure the place as best you can. When Athena gets back, I'll start on over with her." Further introductions could be had then. "We'll probably be sharing our sleeping space with people that ain't ours, so be careful about what you say."
no subject
Daryl took charge once again and he barely gave a sign that he acknowledged it before acting on it. He started to move but stopped himself after only a few steps, turning half way back to Daryl. Again, it wasn't that he was against the order. It was actually a very sound course of action, it was his own reaction that bothered him. This was a conscious effort to break himself of the remnants of the programming.
"From what I've seen, I don't need to tell you to be careful. So I'll say take care instead. I'll rendezvous when we're both on site. And..." He hesitated, thinking over his words carefully before saying them. "I guess, call me Bucky. That's what I went by before they messed with my head. I wasn't sure I knew 'Bucky' anymore, but I'll try to remember him." And then he swept out of the ship to gather their supplies.