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Who: Wrath
Broadcast: Fleetwide Video
Action: HS Marsiva hospitality deck
When: 6/13

[It's... probably a sad statement about Wrath's life that waking up in a strange place with something plugged into her neck? Not actually that weird. Not remembering how she got to said place? Also not that weird. Not remembering signing up for some kind of reality show?

At this point she just assumes that she's been subjected to another recode.

...okay, maybe a recode that went a little wrong. Who knows how much time she's lost, but it's an accomplishment that she's immediately aware of those things, she knows that. And she also knows better than to think about it too hard. Just have to roll with the punches.

Focus on what she can do. Which would be figuring out the communicator thing (hey, that's all pretty familiar!), try to read some stuff to get oriented, give up on reading, and just go for it.

So there you go. Tiny woman, bright pink hair, surprisingly deep voice.]

Maine? Orion? You around anywhere? Delta? North? Christine? Foxtrot? Whiskey?

[That basically covers everyone immediately important.]

Also, if anyone's seen my cane, I'd really like to have it back. It's about... uh. This big. [Holds hands apart.] And it's a cane. But don't press the button on it, there's a sword inside and the spring is kind of touchy.

And my chems. Those are kind of important.

And my kitten. This big. [Teeny.] Calico tabby with little pink jellybean toes.

That will be all, thank you.

[Very authoritative nod, sign off.]

[And after this, she's limping off to find a window and lose her damn mind with delight that she's in space. She can't wait to tell Maine! ...at some point.]

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[By the time the transmission goes out, Eugene's gotten himself off of his cot, made the rounds of the area, and finally settled into the viewing bay with a coffee. He's too jittery for real food, but coffee? That had become such a priceless treasure a few years into the outbreak that even solidly average cafeteria coffee was a treasure, and he sipped his cup gingerly as he sat and looked out at the stars, moments of fluctuating awe and homesickness and disorientation broken up by the occasional new transmission coming through on the communicator.

It's maybe a minute or two after the most recent one that the woman herself comes into the viewing bay - though he leaves the hello that comes to his lips to idle a few moments when he sees the look that sweeps across her face. He's no saint, but he's not going to elbow his way right into the middle of someone's joy like that. Especially not in the mood he's in, himself.]

It takes Wrath a while to calm down to a rapid vibrate. Space! She's in space! Maine told her about it, but it's so big?

Though oh. Are aliens going to try to kill them? Maine hadn't had that great of a time in space, after all...

Before she can really consider that worry, she notices someone else in the observation room with her. "Oh, hi! Do you like space too?"

He's not really prepared for that much cheerful enthusiasm turned on him all at once. For a fraction of a second it's like being home again with Jack, with Zoe's kids, and in the afterimage of that memory a bruise-purple ache settles into his chest. He nods, whatever polite answering smile he might have given automatically dimmed down to a little turn of his lips.

"Well, I. I like the stars? Looking at them from Earth, anyway." He looks back out the windows, nodding his cup at the panorama. "They're a lot different when you're in the middle of them."

"The stars are really beautiful, yeah. I haven't seen them in... I don't know." She's been out on patrol since the Line, but not at night, normally. "Ten years at least? Maybe?" But anyway, something is even more interesting in what he's said. "You're from Earth? That's so cool! I've only heard stories about Earth. Well, and all the historical dramas. Is it true you all have horses and wear tight pants? Though Orion said that everyone is dead and gets brought back by ghosts and then punches bad aliens in the face so I don't know."

Edited 2015-06-14 19:08 (UTC)

Eugene blinks a few times, a slow morse w-t-f that makes up for technically inaccuracy in expressiveness. Then the everything - the weirdness, the half a dozen things in just a few sentences that make absolutely zero sense, the fact that he's on a spaceship in deep space - those all catch up.

The laugh that follows is short and voiceless, tumbling out on a huff of a breath, but it's there. There, alongside a hapless surrender of a crooked smirk. "Okay, where are you even from that all you've seen of Earth is historical dramas?"

"Oh, I'm from the city of Proles, on Zeus. Earth colony. I've never been in space till now actually, since I was born there." She grins. "So. Horses?"

"Yeah, horses." He nods. "And cars, and trains, and airplanes. And some tight pants, I guess. Less with the ghosts and bad aliens."

More with the zombies, but something tells him he should untangle what he already has before adding a whole new layer of surreality.

"Well, we have hover cars and stuff." It's the horses that are weird, man.

"It's a good thing aliens aren't trying to kill you. Maine said it's not fun."

"Yeah, no thanks on the aliens. I've had enough gray things trying to kill me for one lifetime."

Gray things? All that comes to mind is, "Oh, do you have dysthropes too? That sucks. Or do you mean evil robots? Giant slugs?" Which is the grossest option. She saw a movie like that once. Maybe?

Edited 2015-06-26 15:11 (UTC)

". . . zombies, actually." He looks at her blankly, not sure what that 'too' is about and not sure he wants to know. "What's a dystrophe?"

"I don't know zombies," she says. The word sounds familiar though. Hm. "Dystrophe is a... I don't know, we think it's a bioplague? Anyway, if you get infected, you like start having all this uncontrolled muscle and bone growth and then go crazy and try to eat your friends. So your friends have to blow your head off first. It kind of sucks."

Oh, Jesus. Space zombies.

Eugene nods, rubbing his hand across his face.

"In that case? We have dystrophes. Minus the growth and plus a certain amount of decomposing."

"Oh," Wrath says, nodding wisely. "That really sucks."

Because it does. Not much more to be said about it. "So did they take your AR leg when you got here or something?" She'd rather just be blunt about it. "Cause they left mine alone, which is kind of weird."

"Yeah." There's really not much more to say when you're stuck with zombies. Or something damn close. He looks back out at the stars in the following quiet, only glancing back at her as she says something his brain can't exactly parse. Eyar-leg?

"What are you talking about?" His brain clumsily thunks that unknown term against known categories, guessing at some kind of expletive, maybe. "They didn't chop my leg off, if that's what you're asking."

"Shit, I sure would hope not!" She shakes her head. "AR." She pushes her sleeve up on her left arm, since that's a lot easier than her pantleg. She gets it high enough to reveal the ring of metal that circles her upper arm, where artificial joins with flesh. "Left arm and right leg for me. And my right eye. So like... did you lose yours before you got here or something?"

Eugene stares, without an ounce of shame. He's actually really tempted to crutch over and touch-test, except for how incredibly rude that is. Even if, in the space of a few seconds, he goes from awed to incredibly jealous, then back again.

"Uh . . . no. We haven't invented those yet." He covers it up with a half-smile, an artful ain't-even-mad shoulder before he reaches down to lift his battered wooden crutch. "Since society collapsed, this is pretty much the cutting-edge technology right here."

Yep. So cool. Cool and calm and fuck this whole stupid armada. "You'd think people with spaceships could hook a guy up, but I guess they're stuck with the low-tech stuff. Like dragging people out of totally different universes."

"Wow, that really sucks." So he hadn't had any kind of replacement limb at all? She can't even imagine. Then again, it's not like anyone had managed to fix her fucking back.

"There's got to be something, though," she says, grimacing. "And they took my cane. I'm glad they didn't take your crutch at least. What the hell."

"Yeah, I saw your transmission! I can't believe those guys took your cane. I mean, seriously?" Not bringing a kitten along on a spaceship, fine. That probably makes sense. But something someone uses to walk?

There's nothing to be done for the fact that space-Santa didn't give him a shiny new robot leg. But there's plenty to be outraged over in the fact that people are being dropped here without pretty important things they already had.

"Even if no one's getting on board armed, they could have just. I don't know. Disabled the sword part?"

"They probably could have pulled the blade out and it would have still been fine." She grimaces. "And I'm more concerned about my chems, but hopefully one of the medics can help me with that."

She considers for a minute. "I wonder if Vision could make you an awesome AR leg. He's an awesome...uh. Android person. If there's money, then there has to be a way to buy parts and stuff..." Probably wouldn't be as good as a custom build from back home, but who knew, Vision seemed really smart. And that kind of thing had to be better than nothing at all.

He screws up his face at that added detail and gives a noise of agreement, though as soon as she suggests pestering someone to hack together a robot leg he shakes his head. "Nah, that's fine. I'm not going to die without it or anything, it's just . . . annoying."

The kind of annoying there's no real way out of, though. It would have seemed like basic courtesy to use some of your amazing technology to set up the people you were kidnapping. But when it comes to his fellow kidnappees, he's not in the mood to be anyone's charity case or ratings grab.

"It's also dumb to not ask your crew mates for help," she points out. "That's what crew mates are supposed to do." Since she might be smelling a little hurfdurf in there.

Crew mates, hah. Eugene guesses that he . . . sort of has experience with that, at least. With the radio crew. In the van, on the ship, in the house, finally . . .

Yeah, stuffing that one back down the old memory hole before his stomach can ache more than it is already.

"Maybe it just takes me awhile to settle into the whole crew mates groove." That's been true enough too. He can be a team player without any especial problems, but it's never been his strong suit.

"Just don't pull the brooding loner bullshit," she advises. "That's only sexy on vids. It's fucking annoying in even non-combat situations."

"Ah," he retorts, with a knowing look at, he's been told, is either endearing or punchable. Or some mixture of the two. "But how will our dear viewers feel about it?"

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