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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
The sudden question on his own well-being drew the blond's gaze back to Glenn. "Yeah, I'm fine." But that seems to mean a lot more to him than the simplicity of the question. In his world, most people were out for his own skin. This Greenie could very well have fit in as a Glader it seemed. Concern was rare, and it was a good trait in someone, no matter how dangerous it was for that person. Newt wasn't even aware that Glenn was having similar thoughts in regard to his own concern. That's just who Newt was, if he could help, he would or he'd at least try.
"I don't mean the cranks, I mean, gettin' on this ship or where ya were headin'? Were ya in the Scorch?" It was like Newt was a few steps ahead of Glenn, because with his own questions he began walking towards one of the occupied seat, someone with longer hair. But when he turned the light to them, it turned out to be a deceased male. "Do ya remember Wicked gettin' you?" Newt doubts this guy is WCKD, but then, Tommy was apparently WCKD. They apparently hired 'em young.
"I can't remember anything about how I ended up on this place, which isn't bloody surprising with Wicked."
no subject
When he was told that his current companion was fine, he'd given a nod and didn't press further. Still, if it came down to it - he would give Newt a hand if he could; he'd keep his eye out for him, too. That's just how it worked. He went back to his inspections of those still in the seat, heart jumping in to his throat now and again when someone seemed a high possibility to be revealed as Maggie. Glenn was torn on his thoughts of finding her there. To see her, know that she was there with him? That would be good. But, if she were safer elsewhere? That would be even better. Her well-being was the most important thing. More important than her being with him. Still, he didn't want to leave her there if she happened to have gotten on the ship - however they did - too.
"Cranks?" He heard himself ask, pulled back to the moment by Newt's words. The confusion was clear on his face. And the more Newt talked, the more that Glenn's expression became mystified. "Hold on, hold on - Wicked? What's that? And no, I just remember... I was in the woods, and then I was here. This is a really far cry from everything for months, man. But, yeah. Dude, what's Wicked, and what's the Scorch?" His flashlight was on the guy he was speaking to, but he wasn't rude with the beam of it. Glenn closed the distance between them, his curiosity showing on his face.
no subject
"Wicked? The bloody people I'm sure are in charge of us bein' where-ever the hell this is." The blond paused, keeping his own flashlight aimed at Glenn's chest. "And the Scorch is the place that ya don't shucking go to if ya wanna live. With all the sand." The desert. How did this guy not know about it? It seemed like the Scorch stretched on forever. Then again, Newt barely knew anything of the world. Maybe there were more woods like this guy mentioned.
"Point is, if ya see anything strange lookin' don't give it the chance to eat you and if people claiming to be Wicked try to get you - do yourself a favour and run."