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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.
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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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"I'm Finn."
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Unusual weapon to wound, he knows, and he knows the question that's coming next.
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"Yeah, sure," Daryl damn near rolled his eyes, but turned his head away before he could be caught doing so. "You still need to cover those up. They could get infected real easy if they ain't."
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"Yeah. Sure." He's been carrying Poe's jacket, the one that he took on Jakku. It's damaged, but it'll do the trick.
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"This could work," he said more to himself than to Finn, but reached out to tap the kid on the elbow and tug him lightly toward him. Held the blanket up. "Don't got no bandages, but as long as your back is covered by something clean, it should be okay. Better than nothing. Can even sorta secure it with those belts."