A cry for help

[thespaceopera]

[a distress call has been tracked across the void, finally leading back to the source. a hulking crippled ship, teeming with hostile alien life, now lies before you.

what do you do? do you dive in or hang back? are you here to learn, play, build, or observe?

however you choose to proceed, your audience is out there somewhere, watching.]


ooc: here is a good ol' themed mingle to get you all started! and don't feel limited by the prompts and what they describe--they're just there as idea-starters, so feel free to go anywhere and do anything.

have fun!

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Comments

[redactions]

[ Giving him an annoyed look from across the room is one (1) supersoldier. ]

What is that? Nirvana?

[poetontheinside]

Hey, you got a problem with Kurt Cobain, you got a problem with me. [He looks back, throws the guy a challenging grin.]

[redactions]

[ He snorts, but replies amiably, ]

Yeah, I got a problem with what you kids call music these days.

[ Never mind that he might look younger than Ray. Grouchy old man mode is a go. ]

[poetontheinside]

Hey, grandpa, you wanna listen to your violin concertos you're gonna have to do it on another spaceship. [By now he's getting used to people who are older than they look-- but he can play along no problem.]

[redactions]

Ain't nobody said nothin' about violin. You got any jazz?

[poetontheinside]

I look like I got any jazz? [He looks like an aging punk; the question should be considered both rhetorical and meant to annoy.]

[redactions]

Smartass.

[ He laughs, softly. ]

How're you doin' over there with the wiring anyway? Anything we can use?

[poetontheinside]

Ooh, that smarts. [He grins, then flips a wrench from hand to hand.]

Sure, there's somethin' in here for everyone. It's a regular candy store.

[redactions]

Assuming I was goin' for candy.

[ He approaches, posture loose, palms open. ]

Haven't had the chance to look proper, been busy getting those things out of the way first.

[poetontheinside]

[Ray isn't a particularly paranoid person, although he has his moments. He takes in Bucky's posture unconsciously, relaxes a little himself.]

Well, thanks for that, they freak me the fuck out.

[redactions]

[ And that in turn gives a positive feedback loop. Bucky's still wary, but only of their surroundings, listening for any more of them coming their way. ]

Have they — talked to you at all? They sorta just rush at me, but I figure it might be the knife.

[poetontheinside]

[Ray moves over a little bit, in case Bucky wants to sit down next to him.]

Nah, I try to avoid 'em. Don't have any firearms here, just these things. [He indicates his toolbox, shrugs.] Didn't hear 'em communicating, but what do I know, right?

[redactions]

[ He considers sitting for a moment, and ends up leaning against the wall next to Ray, arms loosely folded as he listens. ]

Yeah, I s'pose we don't speak bug. [ the ghost of a smile lights his face, at some private, forgotten-until-now memory ] What did you do, back home?

[poetontheinside]

[He looks up at Bucky when he settles himself against the wall, and then goes back to fiddling with the bit of machinery in front of him.]

Detective, Chicago P.D. You?

[redactions]

Cop, huh? I'm in the army.

[ Never could lie as easily as a SHIELD agent, but even if it's not the entire truth it's still enough of one that there's no tells. ]

[poetontheinside]

Oh, yeah? What branch?

[redactions]

Special Forces. Just got back from Iraq and now [ he gestures to their vicinity. ] Gotta say, this is a lot better than sand everywhere.

[poetontheinside]

A lot's gonna seem better'n than that. [He sits up a little, extends his hand]

Nice to meet you, man. Ray Kowalski.

[redactions]

[ He shakes Ray's hand, his grip firm but not crushing. ]

S'a pleasure. James Barnes. Most people call me Jim.

[poetontheinside]

Alright, Jim. Hey, where're you from? Sounds like you're from my kinda earth, anyway.

[redactions]

Brooklyn, New York. Grew up there. I live in DC now.

[poetontheinside]

Brooklyn, huh? Y'know, I never been to New York. Been to DC for a conference, once. Boring as fuck, no offense.

[redactions]

Yeah, Brooklyn. You want the dime tour, I'm your man.

[ The warmth disappears. ]

DC really ain't my place.

[poetontheinside]

Ain't my place, neither. I'm from Chicago, so, y'know-- DC's too clean, too nice. Think I could like Brooklyn?

[redactions]

I think you'd love Brooklyn, pal. Some a'the neighbourhood's changed since [ my day, he means, and quickly corrects himself to, ] I was there, but I don't think it'd be too different from what I've heard Chicago's like.

Say, what year is it, where you're from?