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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.
Thomas | The Maze Runner
[ there's ringing in his ears, and thomas isn't sure if that's from the explosions he'd just ran from, the Flat Trans he'd just been shoved through, or whatever the hell is going on now, with the destroyed shuttle surrounding him.
this isn't where he's supposed to be.
he'd gone through the Flat Trans, made sure it was safe on the other side, he should be in a field of green, looking down a hill into a glade, surrounded by thick forest, with mountains and a view of the ocean not far away. instead, he's in some fried rust bucket, with a bunch of strangers strapped in all around. not all of them look like they made it through whatever happened here. it was supposed to be over. the chancellor said they'd go somewhere safe and start to rebuild. a real safe haven. WICKED was destroyed, wasn't it? then again, how many times has he been told he was "safe" to find that so, so, so very far from the truth? his chest aches, and the scrapes and bruises all over his person are starting to set in, adrenaline from the escape ebbing away, and thomas feels the crushing feeling of despair sinking in.
they'll never be safe. not really. not ever. they'll never let them go, will they?
first things first, though - those around him. with a groan, thomas stretches, popping his seat restraints off, grabbing the backpack beneath the chair, and pulling himself up to look to the person next to him. hands reach for their safety restraints, starting to free the person up, in case they're too out of it or injured to manage (not that thomas looks much better, considering he's pretty much been through hell and back very recently). ] Hey, you okay? Anything broken? Can you stand?
exploring;
[ thomas doesn't waste much time getting out of the shuttle and looking around. his mind is reeling, but still revolving around the same idea - WICKED, it has to be WICKED. at least, he's not seeing Brenda and Minho or Fry around, so hopefully they made it through to the safe haven. hopefully, it's just him WICKED stole. somehow. he's stopped questioning how they do what they do. if he had his memories, maybe he'd have a better guess, but he'd honestly rather have the confusion than risk becoming the person that designed all... this.
still, it's odd. usually, there's some instructions. some clues as to what they want them doing, where they want them going. what maze they want the rats to run through for cheese. or, you know, basic freedom and survival. here? nothing. just the shuttle, the pack of supplies, and ruins in the distance. so that's where he heads - the ruins. chances are, with WICKED, if he tries going anywhere else, bad stuff will be putting him back onto course.
thomas can be found picking through bushes, looking around at the trees, occasionally muttering to himself, like trying to take mental notes. if he happens to see someone struggling, he'll likely reach out to give them a hand. after all, that landing was apparently pretty rough. otherwise, he'll ask a question now and again to anyone who's nearby. ] Anything looking familiar to anyone?
ruins;
Hey! Guys! Listen!
[ there's a teenage kid, about 16 and looking like he's been through zombie infested hell and back already, that's clamored up on one of the higher ruins, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out to those nearby. he might throw an acorn or two at people if they aren't paying attention. ]
The shanks that dropped us here obviously aren't up for answering any questions or getting us out, so we need to start working together. [ for a sixteen year old looking like he just went diving through a mind field and then fought a gorilla with knives for hands, lost in some dystopian earth, he doesn't actually seem that panicked. annoyed as hell, yes, but not panicked. ] The klunk supplies they gave us aren't gonna last more than a few days, even with rationing, and we need to get some kind of shelter worked up. There's animals around, but we're gonna need more weapons and people who can hunt if everyone's gonna have enough to live on.
[ as he talks, thomas digs through his pack some, where he's crouches on the ruined wall, frowning at what he's finding, though continues talking. ]
We need to start sharing what we know. The faster we pool information and skills, the faster we get out of here.
[ a pause, a blink, and he glances back up, lines of his features hard. angry. ]
The faster we find the slintheads who did this and let 'em know how we feel. [ aka stab them in the face, pretty much. it's pretty obvious he means stab them in the face. another pause, and he nods, before starting to crawl back down off the wall. ] Good that.
wildcard;
[[ idk hit me!!! ]]
wildcard
They'd made those grievers, they'd watched them all that time, who knows what else they could do. Maybe Tommy had his memories back, maybe they'd turned him back against them... But they why would he be there with the others...? He couldn't keep watching his friends die, that hadn't changed had it?
He's so deep in thought, he hadn't noticed that they'd stopped walking, his legs following the same pace as Tommy's, and now he's... blinking because Tommy's looking at him like he's said something - shit... Blinking once, then twice, Newt stares back at his "friend." He opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, wetting his lips before he finally speaks. ]
I'm not gonna lie, Tommy, if you said something I wasn't payin' attention.
[ Honesty is a good policy, right? The knife hanging by his hip doesn't make him feel any more safe, if anything it makes him feel like the chances of conflict have gone up - maybe he should just give it to the other boy, let him murder him out in the middle of the forest if he wants. ]
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and beyond that, nothing seems to line up, aside from the fact WICKED is still as much of a problem for what newt remembers as thomas does. or, as much as it had been. but even still, it's differences that don't really make sense. why bother trying to follow him with something this obvious? is he supposed to be thinking that there's a better future out there somewhere? have some hope for it that can get crushed later?
and he always comes back to the same point - any time he thinks he knows what WICKED is trying to do, any time he tries to go against it, he ends up doing exactly what they wanted him to. just stop thinking about it. stop. ]
I said-- [ he pipes up, not sure he really wants to ask this question, but he'd already committed to it. may as well. ]
Chuck. Is he alive for you?
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One of his hands twitches like he wants to move it, but ultimately it stays where it is, instead of going to the shoulder of the person he'd considered his friend not hours ago. No, he doesn't know what's going on with Thomas; Newt doesn't know what's going on anymore. When his hand does raise, it's to rub over his lips and chin, trying to figure out the easiest way to deliver the news. There isn't one, so he lets it fall back to his side, loosely. ]
No. Gally tried to shoot you... He moved in the way; he saved your life, he did.
[ The hesitance seems to disappear as he decides to step forward towards Thomas, his arm finding the shoulder that it had wanted to. ] You got him out of the maze, and he was thankful for it.
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but that seems like an empty rationalization. if chuck had a choice, he'd want to live. thomas knows that, and he knows what happened to him wasn't any kind of mercy. he was a tool, and directly after it falls from newt's lips "he moved in the way, he saved your life, he did", thomas snaps to add on. ]
WICKED moved him. The knife was never meant to hit me.
[ there's vitriol and anger and, deeper down, guilt. it also isn't lost on him that newt said "shoot". but either way, even with the uncertainty and the suspicion, newt's hand on his shoulder is a comforting weight, and he lifts his chin enough to flash him a tight, sad half-smile. ] Was worth hoping for, at least. Sorry.
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However, that response causes Newt's brow to furrow in confusion, and something chilling and sickening works its way through his stomach to make it churn and wraps around his heart, making it pound a little faster. ] What do you mean they "moved him?" [ Who even knows what he means by that, after finding out what kind of sick things they've been up to, Newt isn't sure what to think. ]
Tommy, he moved in the way, no one was around to push him, other than us, and you know we wouldn't do that. And what do you mean knife? [ They've come to the conclusion that there were various differences between their memories at least, it seems like another sick game, and the way Tommy looks at him, makes him feel like he's losing his mind. It scares him a little, not sure which one of them is actually wrong, or if Tommy's even telling the truth. No, he can't talk like that, fears like that destroy people, and while the other is scaring him to some extent with how different he's behaving, he knows for certain that he wants to trust him.
The topic at hand inspires a thought. As if to prove it, more to himself than anything, his hand slides from the other Glader's shoulder, moving to unfasten the knife sheath from his belt loop, at first it may seem a little sketchy, him turning his attention to the knife in such close proximity, but then he holds it out to Thomas, still in its sheath, handle towards him. They've gotta trust each other. ] You plan on hunting, this will probably help. [ It's not giving up, it's having hope. ]
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[ which is really the worst part. no knowing if they could flip a switch and have him start strangling his best friend. hell, he'd nearly killed minho just when the killswitch activated to keep them from removing it. that'd been terrifying - being inside his head and helpless to stop himself from hurting his friend. but it's gone now, at least. ]
They made Gally throw the knife, made Chuck dive in front of it. It was a knife for use, not a gun. [ made teresa kiss him. he's not going into that one. ] Not that I don't think Chuck wanted to save me, but... They didn't really give him a choice. Just another shuck Variable.
[ all he was to them. all any of them have been. it makes him sick to his stomach, thomas's lips curling for a moment, before he notices newt rummaging at his side. for a brief moment, he sees him grab the knife, and it's an odd feeling - like he should be alarmed, on guard, but he just... isn't. it's newt. he can't look at him and think ill of him. maybe that makes him the perfect choice for this sort of thing, but how many times has trying to figure out what WICKED's doing just made it all that much worse? what do they always expect him to do? fight it. and that's what he's always done.
but newt? as he's putting the knife into his hand, an obvious statement of trust, despite the unspoken suspicion between them, thomas looks from it, up to his friend, and it's just such a newt thing to do. could they know him that well, to fake that much? maybe. but he's tired of suspecting his friend. being pulled between the want to explode with relief to see him alive and whole, and the constant restraint and fear that it's a lie. a small smile touches his lips, and his hand wraps over the handle, tucking the knife close to his chest. ] Thanks, Newt. I'm sorry. I wish I had a better answer for all this klunk.
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onedirectionlaugh.mp3
exploring
[ The voice comes from somewhere over him; if he's quick he'll spot the white-and-dark-purple hooded figure sitting on a branch.
Yes, she's sticking with the costume for now. ]
So no, not really clicking.
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[ whole lotta green. yeah, that's about right. blinking up, he's searching the trees for where the voice came from, sees a flash of white, and lifts a brow for a moment, but otherwise, shrugs it off. if that's where you're happy, do your thing. whatever. ]
Maybe once night hits someone can look at the stares. See if that helps.
[ someone who remembers anything about astronomy. while thomas thinks he probably once had the knowledge for it, it's definitely been wiped from his memory by now. ]
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[ Spider-suit = bad jokes. Deal with it, Tommy boy. A moment later, Gwen lands next to him, still in full spider garb. ]
I'll give it the old college try, but I'm pretty sure we're in for some alien skies.
ruins
So she steps forward, giving a small wave to draw attention to herself- as if the blue hair and tattoos didn’t do that enough already. ]
I can help with hunting.
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Good. If I can get a spear or a knife or something I can probably help. [ he's explaining while shimmying himself down from the ruined wall. ]
I'm fast, at least. Want to head out, see if we can grab anything nearby?
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Let's see about getting you armed. I can catch things and hold them for a short time, but unless you want them burnt to a crisp, I can't do the killing.
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...How? [ he starts in, but you know what, more important things to deal with. she has a method, let's move on. ] There's gotta be something sharp around here we can use. Or at least, I dunno, a pointy stick.
[ that said, thomas starts heading towards some more of the ruins, trying to look through twisted, eroded structure, pulling at bars half sticking out of concrete in places to see if they'll dislodge. ]
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[ Well, he may not have wanted an answer, but he got one anyway.
She starts rooting through part of the ruined building as well. There are a couple of wooden beams, but they either crumble to dust or are too large to be used effectively. ] It looks like whoever lived here has been gone a long, long time.
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[ as if she has any reason to lie about it? it's less disbelief of her, more 'holy shit what even is the world anymore'. he's seen plenty of things that probably should be impossible by now, and yet, the fact someone figured it out to make it happen sort of thrills him. in a nerdy kind of way. ]
How's it work? Is there like a device or an implant or something? [ because even telepathy is something that spawns from technology, where he's from. and he should probably be looking for that weapon, and he is, kind of. in the vaguely sweeping eyes across things sort of way. ]
shuttle.
Someone's talking to her. Her head snaps up, startled, and her neck doesn't thank her for it, but she blinks at the unfamiliar face, paying the twinge no mind. ]
I- I think? [ She lets him help her out of the restraints, shrugging the rest of the way out of them as he does. ]
Yeah. Yeah I'm okay. [ Shaken, pale as a sheet. But she gets up. How can she be okay? What is this place? ]
This doesn't make any sense. [ Muttered more to herself as she looks around, trying to see everything, everywhere, all at once. There are other people, too. Not a familiar face among them. Fear, at least, is familiar. ]
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Here, lemme help you. [ thomas puts his hands out, gripping under her forearms to give her something to keep her balance with and push up on as she makes her way out of the chair. ]
I know. I don't remember getting here either, but I don't think this is a good place to figure it out.
[ once she's on her feet, he'll be grabbing up the pack under he chair, his already hooked over a shoulder, and start trying to help her towards the exit. ]
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Thanks. [ No time to pause though. She nods, starts moving, reaching for the backpack he pulled up. He's got one, and it seems like that one should be hers, right? ] You're right.
[ --stops, looking over her shoulder. ] What about the others?
[ Some of them are dead, she can tell this much even at a glance. But not everyone, surely. ]
Ruins
[Daryl barked as he marched his way over, having dropped a relatively small 'sled' of supplies he'd gotten put together. James had pulled the metal panel off the hull and wire and rope had made it easy to pull. The extra water and non-perishables had been stacked up and he'd done his level best to drag it to where the other survivors were gathering like they were planning on putting a shelter up.]
You're making too much noise. You're going to scare off any game there might be out there and draw walkers right to us.
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Yeah, 'cause I'm sure the crash landed spaceship was so quiet.
[ or the entire herd of people plowing through the forest. if something was going to be drawn to them, it definitely already had been. either way, he'd only been up on the wall for that little bit alone, already having tugged his pack back on and started clamoring his way back down to talk with people and organize. ]
The hell's a walker supposed to be anyway, and why do you know anything about what's around here?
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The ship is over there.
[He pointed back the way they came.]
You're bringing the noise over here.
[He pointed again, at his feet.]
Gonna drive what you're planning on hunting even further out and we don't know what kind is even in them woods. Hell, all the coming and going has already destroyed at least three game trails and that was just one of the paths all ya'll been making.
[Daryl curled his lip up at the kid and went back to the supply sled, this time to push it into one of the holes in the walls of the ruins. It wasn't that great a location, but it would do for a camp sight while they got organized and scouted out a better, more defensible one.]
Walkers are the dead that don't know it yet.
[He grunted hard as pushed the sled over a low, broken wall and across the stone to hit the next. Good enough for the first load.]
And I know shit about this place because I'm observant.
he's such a twat, i'm sorry
Sorry, didn't realize three or four sentences said loudly were gonna turn the area uninhabitable for any woodland critters for all eternity. My bad, man.
[ the sarcasm is strong in this one. also, arguing just for the sake of arguing because he's pissy. but all in all, he's not perturbed enough by it to stop with trying to get this place settled. once he's on the ground again, thomas is emptying out his pack, separating the food, water and aspirin out, before pulling out the blanket, rope, flashlight and batteries. he jerks at the fabric some, trying to see how sturdy it is, and unravels the rope a bit, trying to get an idea of length. ]
There's squirrels, deer, and birds, at least. Observant. [ spoken distractedly, as he starts to carefully pry the flashlight apart, looking inside at the wiring. ] And if this is the area we're making camp, they're not gonna be hanging around here in the future anyway. Which is probably good, considering, where there's herbivores, there's usually carnivores.
[ it's the part about walkers, though, that gets thomas halting, dropping the Fuck U Buddy routine and looking up from the light for the moment, because 'the dead that don't know it yet' can only really be one thing, as far as what he's familiar with. ]
Cranks? You saw them here?
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[Daryl sassed right back, meeting the kid inch for inch on the sarcastic department. That was a battlefield he knew. Though the smartass did seem to have more brains behind his mouth than Daryl had first given him credit for if he'd already spotted the signs of squirrel and deer being around.
What gave Daryl pause, though, was the response to the comment about walkers.
He stood up and looked the kid over, re-assessing him. He'd already figured the kid knew how to survive even if he wasn't careful about the noise he was making. But the recognition of the description was the first Daryl had gotten from any of the other survivors he'd seen so far.]
If that's what you call 'em. I ain't seen 'em, but I ain't never been no place they ain't at eventually. Noise draws 'em the fastest. There's ruins here. There were people once. Might still be. Might even be why we crashed. They ain't here, but they will be.
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[ not that the squirrels would offer a whole lot in the way of food anyway. they'd want to go for deer, or, the carnivorous things. fun as that will be. but that isn't the biggest concern at the moment - not now.
now, it's this thing about walkers. cranks, if they're talking about the same thing, and that's a bigger threat than anything else, especially if they're close to a large group. and usually, it is a large group. the Flare always spreads. thomas likely looks something between turning a sickly, anxious kind of pale and just angry with himself. frustrated. he'd hoped, with the vegetation and how temperate things are here, it was at least somewhere close to the safe haven he'd seen through the Flat Trans, but he should know better by now.
nothing's ever safe anymore. not really. ]
Cranks are still people. They won't need noise to find us. [ they're insane, ravenous, and seem more dead than alive anymore, but they still think. make plans, scheme, build traps. discarding the half dismantled flashlight, thomas stands, starting to peer around - at the ruins, and then up, towards the trees. a camp on the ground makes them sitting ducks. they need to be hidden. ] Shit.
Are you Immune?
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