Eugene Woods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
survivalistcookbook) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-06-13 10:24 pm
survivalistcookbook) wrote in driftfleet2015-06-13 10:24 pm
(no subject)
Who: Eugene Woods, et al.
Broadcast: Fleetwide video
Action: HS Marsiva hospitality deck
When: 6/13
[Action]
[Eugene isn't necessarily a light sleeper. But he wakes quickly, when something is wrong. And something is definitely wrong, all at once, enough to have him pushing himself up and looking around, breaths coming fast and voiceless and silent.
He doesn't whisper for the name spinning through his head over and over, just pats to the edge of the cot in a haze of cold dread, feels nothing, curls his hand around the edge for balance as he scans the room. Other cots. Other people. The place is clean in a way nothing's been for years, sleek and shiny. Only the lack of overt scientific or medical purpose keeps at bay the worst of his fears, the darkest rumors and insinuations they'd scraped together over the years.
After several long minutes of staring out into the open room, he finds the communicator set down beside him and begins to browse transmissions and archives. Even then, he's tense and silent, eyes flitting up to track any movement or sound.]
[Transmission]
[Later - after a few hours of reading, and observing the goings-on around the deck, and a few several-minute stints of just trying to breathe slowly and not freak out - Eugene makes his first effort at hailing the network. He's set the device down on his pillow, and his expression is soundly unimpressed as he sits on the edge of the cot.]
Okay - this is the best open letter to our mysterious production staff that I can manage, but someone has to say it.
Seriously, guys? This is your ratings grab? This is your cool new hook for the week?
[He is not amused. He is so not amused.]
Don't tell me - is this supposed to be the inspirational overcoming adversity angle? Or is it just the kind of good old-fashioned entertainment where we can fly people through space, but we can't toss on a few robot limbs or whatever?
Guess I'll have to wait and see how it all comes out in post-production, huh. Great. Good job guys. Get those viewers.
[He reaches for the communicator and tips it, putting all of himself in the frame - down to left thigh that thins out and ends in a twisted line of scar tissue, several inches above where a knee would be. Eyes narrowed in resentment, he pats it emphatically a few times, then switches off the feed.]
Broadcast: Fleetwide video
Action: HS Marsiva hospitality deck
When: 6/13
[Action]
[Eugene isn't necessarily a light sleeper. But he wakes quickly, when something is wrong. And something is definitely wrong, all at once, enough to have him pushing himself up and looking around, breaths coming fast and voiceless and silent.
He doesn't whisper for the name spinning through his head over and over, just pats to the edge of the cot in a haze of cold dread, feels nothing, curls his hand around the edge for balance as he scans the room. Other cots. Other people. The place is clean in a way nothing's been for years, sleek and shiny. Only the lack of overt scientific or medical purpose keeps at bay the worst of his fears, the darkest rumors and insinuations they'd scraped together over the years.
After several long minutes of staring out into the open room, he finds the communicator set down beside him and begins to browse transmissions and archives. Even then, he's tense and silent, eyes flitting up to track any movement or sound.]
[Transmission]
[Later - after a few hours of reading, and observing the goings-on around the deck, and a few several-minute stints of just trying to breathe slowly and not freak out - Eugene makes his first effort at hailing the network. He's set the device down on his pillow, and his expression is soundly unimpressed as he sits on the edge of the cot.]
Okay - this is the best open letter to our mysterious production staff that I can manage, but someone has to say it.
Seriously, guys? This is your ratings grab? This is your cool new hook for the week?
[He is not amused. He is so not amused.]
Don't tell me - is this supposed to be the inspirational overcoming adversity angle? Or is it just the kind of good old-fashioned entertainment where we can fly people through space, but we can't toss on a few robot limbs or whatever?
Guess I'll have to wait and see how it all comes out in post-production, huh. Great. Good job guys. Get those viewers.
[He reaches for the communicator and tips it, putting all of himself in the frame - down to left thigh that thins out and ends in a twisted line of scar tissue, several inches above where a knee would be. Eyes narrowed in resentment, he pats it emphatically a few times, then switches off the feed.]
action;
Without even the chance to call shotgun. [He offers his hand to shake.] Eugene Woods.
no subject
Doesn't look like there's anyone around besides us, either. [Given the circumstances, he'd half expected to see some aliens running around and assisting whoever ran the ship - but instead, silence was his only greeting. Silence, and unnaturally clean hallways.]
no subject
[Weirder than anything else, maybe. He's been alone since the outbreak. He's been lost. But it's never been this quietly pristine. Not anywhere.]
Where did they grab you from?
no subject
[That said, his accent is perfect midwestern American and he's technically white-passing; nothing about him really screams Middle Eastern at first glance.] What about you?
no subject
[Similarly incongruous - years in England and there hasn't been much change in his nondescript, urban-Canadian inflections.]
What were you doing down there?
no subject
Since my whole family was there anyways, they just decided to stay put. I came a little later for various reasons. [Mostly because he was off fighting said aliens.]
2014's not too far off from me. What was the situation like for you in Alderney?
no subject
[Hometown destroyed by aliens. That's . . . also awful, yeah. Though at least it seems like they still have international transportation.]
Alderney's nice. Zom-free, which is more than I can say for . . . basically everywhere else we've lived for the past few years.
no subject
[Headtilt.] Zom? I don't think I've heard of those before.
no subject
[Most of the snark is blunted by sympathy.]
Sorry to hear about the States. At least you still have your family, right?
no subject
[That sympathy's very mutual - even with all of the destruction in his world, it wasn't quite an apocalypse. (see: the Middle East and New Zealand surviving mostly unscathed).] That sucks too, man. Glad to hear you were somewhere safe.
The States're rebuilding, bit by bit, but yeah. I'm glad they're around too.