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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.
Finn | Star Wars - likely to contain spoilers in comments
Finn swears softly, continuing to try to unbuckle himself, but he's shaking too much. Anxiety builds, that pressure rising in his chest until he can't breathe, gasping and pulling frantically at his belt. Where is he? Where's Rey? And Poe? Finn lets out a quiet noise, struggling like a wild thing as the panic builds further.
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Couldn't get him out of there if he was squirming too much. Wasn't sure if he'd need to cut him out, neither. More than a few of the belts he'd already undone had been damaged somehow. Probably from the impact or something like that.
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"Thank you." It's the least he can offer. A helping hand is both unexpected and very appreciated.
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He moved his hand to the buckled and gave it a press. It wasn't jammed, but it was stuck enough that he had to press harder than he should have before it finally released. He put his hand back on the kid, this time to the center of his chest. His touch was light, more to hold him steady as he got to his feet in case he rushed it.
"There's a backpack under your seat. Whatever's in it is yours. Ain't got much, but it'll help keep you alive."
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"I don't remember this... Was the Resistance attacked?"
Because obviously this man must be Resistance.
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"Don't know," he answered after another shake of his head. "Don't remember any of this myself."
Daryl let the kid go since he seemed okay on his feet and stepped back, "Painkillers in the backpack."
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"We should get out of here before this thing collapses. Last time I saw a downed ship, it sank. In sand." Fucking Jakku.
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"You aren't going to get anywhere like that, kid," Clint said in a gentle tone, keeping his hands where the other could see them as he knelt down a couple feet in front of Finn. "Need some help?"
He was already looking the other over for injuries, a small part of him relieved to find none. Good. He didn't have to add another to their injury roster.
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"Please." He's breathless, shaking slightly as he tries to calm himself down. Clint may not see any outward injuries, but they're there, hiding beneath the brown coat. At least he hasn't obtained any new ones, but he can't be too grateful when he's mid-panic attack and his back is on fire.
asdgjksgjdha OH GOD BB ;;
"Okay. I'm going to undo the straps. Nice and slow, alright?" he said softly before he was shifting forward to close the distance between them. He made quick work of the harness and unhooked it, slowly starting to ease it off Finn's shoulders to give the kid room to move.
If he could.
HE'LL BE OK ITS OKAY
The harness finally releases, and he gasps in air like he hasn't breathed in a while. He pushes himself up shakily from the chair, a sharp wince crossing his features as he finds his feet. "Thanks."
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"No problem," Clint said with a nod before he eyed Finn in a slightly worried manner. "You going to be alright in the long term? Or do we need to get you outside and sitting down again? I think there might be some medical types out there."
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"I think I'm okay for now." At least he's partially healed. "Honestly not sure how long that'll last, but for now, I'm fine."
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Because Clint was slowly starting to realize that something was pretty off about all of this.
"I'd feel a lot better if you'd let me take you outside to the makeshift medics."
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"Yeah, alright." A pause. "Is there any water out there? I'm parched."
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The archer steps closer again and slips an arm around Finn's waist so the younger man can lean against him.
"One step at a time alright?"
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"You're all right. I promise. Stand up and see for yourself."
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He's a bit shaky, but he's okay, looking around a bit. "Uh...okay."
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"There's likely nothing to be afraid of. We've only crashed."
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"I don't remember either. Neither do other people I've spoken to. We're not alone here, no matter how terrible it seems."
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