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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.
:3
"Thanks... I was worried there might not be anyone in good enough shape to help."
He sees the other man looking him over as he approaches, his gaze settling in the shrapnel in his leg. Alex can practically taste the other man's confusion at what he's seeing. When Poe comments that there's no blood coming from the injury itself Alex nods, expression a bit wry. His jeans were a mess and pretty much shredded on that side of his thigh, but it was true; the wound wasn't bleeding anymore.
"I heal fast... unfortunately there was still shrapnel." Alex shifts, a grimace crossing his features as muscle protests and spasms, skin tightening around the metal on either end of the puncture wound.
"It's gotta come out," he breathes through his teeth, golden eyes watering. "It's going to suck and I have no idea how bad it's going to bleed, but it's gotta come out or the longer I wait I'll continue to heal around it." And it would be even worse when they had to cut it out then. The muscle and tendons hadn't had a chance to heal around it, yet, but they would and then it could possibly cripple him for days while he healed.
"I don't suppose you've got it in you to jerk this thing outta my leg? I can't get a good angle to do it myself."
Please don't make him try to do that on his own, Poe... he'd likely do himself more damage.