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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.
WHAT UP RUNTCHEEKS
Nah. Just a crank jungle. [ well, they aren't really cranks. ] Sort of.
[ it's a long story, and there's something he needs to know first. ] Hey, don't freak on me, but I gotta check something, okay? [ said with hands raised, pacifying, before he reaches for the back of Minho's shirt, tugging it down to look for the WICKED tattoo they'd all been branded with, before being sent out into the Scorch. And, yep, there it is. so this is his Minho, and thomas lets out a sigh of relief. ] Thank shuck.
[ that's the other long story. newt. not that he isn't more than happy to see him here, but... it's complicated. it's really complicated. ] What's the last thing you remember, before the dropship?
no subject
He doesn't protest even though he has no idea why Thomas is interested in seeing that goddamned tattoo. Maybe it's just his way to make sure that Minho is really who he's saying he is. Still, once Thomas is done Minho raises a questioning eyebrow at him.] Like what you see?
[His playful expression melts into one of confusion, eyes narrowing.] Falling asleep on the Berg after the Scorch. Why, they playing mindtricks again?