driftfleet | out of one prison & into another

Entry tags:

out of one prison & into another

Who: Bucky & You
Broadcast: ?????
Action: From the Marsiva
When: 7/28

[Consciousness came slowly, like climbing out of a fog. Before he opened his eyes, he knew something was amiss; the familiar noises that accompanied him waking up were absent. There should be some sort of noise, be it the hiss of the cryostasis chamber, or the bumbling gait of the scientists that aided in mission preparations.

Nothing.

Blearily opening his eyes, he was startled if not perplexed. This wasn't right. His mission, he--
Head whipping around, his vision darted rapidly for the windows and all points of entry. No sign of anyone else around. Captain America- that had been his mission, but this was...impossible.

Getting off the cot, the joints of his bionic arm creaked as he pushed himself to stand. The large window caught his eye, the view of the stars impressive. They invoke some sort of feeling in him, though he's not sure exactly what.

The lack of any sort of life around is concerning, though not unwanted. Being alone is something of a treat, and the gentle hum of the station itself helped quell the noise in his brain for now. It also helps that he's got a basic comprehension of where he is, though it doesn't particularly calm him.

Despite the freedom to move about, he can't shake the feeling of being snared, like there is something he is missing just out of reach. While there is no one in the immediate area, they could be close, and he opens his mouth to speak.]

..Hello?

[The single word is slightly hoarse, scratching at his throat from disuse, but perhaps not unheard.]

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[...okay. Okay. This was either not the Jim Barnes she'd spent the last few weeks getting to know (since he had explained the place to HER) or someone had done a whammy on him. Either way, Rogue figures that she owes the guy enough, both here and just - in general - to respond and try to be helpful.]

Uh - hi?

[Honestly, the Jim Barnes she's familiar with would be a walk in the park. His eyes flick to her and away from the screen, both trying to recall if he knows her somehow and keeping vigilance on the door.

He's almost certain he doesn't know her.]

What do you want?

[He's slower to respond than his counterpart, perhaps; almost as if he's testing the waters out carefully.]

[The hairs on the back of Rogue's neck prickle to attention. It's the look in his eyes, the tone in his voice, the words themselves: Rogue has an excellent instinct for danger. She has to remind herself that this person is not currently able to reach her, take herself from hyper alert to just - alert.

...and because while he might not be able to reach her, she can take care of herself. She has no idea who else is on the Marsiva right now, and no idea if they can make the same claim.

Which means she'd better bring her A game. Shit. She is so not a people person.]

Honestly? [An eyebrow arch and then raw candor.] A way off this ship an' back home. [Even if 'home' was a confused concept for her right now. Her tone shifts, a bit more distance to it, but still that note of simple honesty.] You said 'hello.' I said 'hi' back. It's not 'cause I think you can give me what I want, or 'cause I want anything from you. It's 'cause it's what people do here.

[She leaves off the bit about 'all in this together' and 'just trying to help' for one, because she's terrible at those speeches, and for another - why say something she could already tell wouldn't be believed? She might not be a people person, but she's had more than enough experience with people wound tight as a spring. If she had some vague goal before of being helpful to him, it's now crystallized to doing one thing: her best to normalize the situation.]

Edited (spelling, sigh) 2015-07-29 00:36 (UTC)

[ You don't always recognise your own voice when you hear it, especially not when it sounds old, rusted over the century. But. He heard this tone often, in the camps, and he's pulled towards it. It's a lost soldier. ]

[ The voice that answers him is gentle, but firm, all Brooklyn drawl. ]

Hello. You all right there, pal?

[ She doesn't quite have a grasp of what's going on. That could be someone with a hangover or someone new who has no idea what's going on. It could be a lot of things. Either way, there's ways to prod for more information without going into the teasing territory right off the bat. ]

... Polo.

Home..

[A deep frown and a furrowed brow follow the word, and for a moment, it may look like she is being ignored. The Asset doesn't really get the concept of just why the word feels so foreign to him.

'Home' was technically wherever he had to report to, and yet he couldn't say with purpose that he really wanted to return there quite so soon. His handlers would be angry with the failure of his mission, so that wouldn't bode well. It never did. He feels a twinge in the right side of his head as a reminder, but shakes it off just as quickly. Showing weakness in unfamiliar territory lead to death.]

I don't have anything to give. [The response is quicker this time, but there is a little more defensiveness behind it. He raises his hands a fraction to indeed show that he's got nothing to give. Unless she wanted his arm, but that wasn't something he had the power of giving away..]

All of my weapons are gone.

[Though that definitely doesn't mean he's defenseless. A knife is still a knife, after all, no matter how plain its sheath.]

[At first the voice had startled him, echoing in the quiet. He was quick to place its location and confirm that there wasn't someone else in the room. Satisfied, he considers the words for a moment.

Was he alright? What constituted as such? It sounded like a trick question, in any case. You couldn't always trust someone's tone.]

I'm uninjured.

[Short, clipped, and not exactly a lie, physically.]

[ A soft, thoughtful hum. ]

When's the last time you ate?

...Repeat?

[He's honestly not sure how to respond to that. Perhaps he'd missed something by zoning out.]

Unknown.

[It was exactly something he had to worry about between missions. If it was necessary, the lab technicians brought him something before being shoved into stasis again.

Remembering it would be something he had to attempt doing now, it seemed.]

[Rogue didn't move as she waited. She was listening, now. If there was one skill she could almost be grateful to her powers for, it was the ability to just - listen, without judgement or presupposition. Everyone had their own story. And she still had no idea what was going on, except that this person who looked like someone she knew was reminding her of someone else she knew.]

Then maybe... [Her response was slower now, not tentative exactly, but... cautious. Feeling her way. That pure Mississippi drawl was just a little bit thicker as she spoke.] ...I should be askin' you what you want.

[She doesn't leave that there long, but it's long enough for him to grab onto and respond, if he wants. She shifts gears slightly.] My name's Rogue. I'm pretty new here. But I'll tell ya what I know about this place, if ya want.

[ That's two answers that've been mechanic. Just how long has he been on the front — or wherever? ]

[ Soft, ] Are you hungry?

Edited (tweak) 2015-07-29 01:30 (UTC)

[ No, that's just Misha. Going so far ahead that even going two steps back isn't enough to get back on track. She huffs slightly, laughter, before she explains. ]

Polo, as in Marco Polo. Someone is out here. Hi.

[The last thing he needed to worry about at the moment was fuel, and he found himself shaking his head despite the absence of someone in the room.

This voice-- whoever it belonged to, was soothing. It was almost familiar, but he couldn't place it. Almost like running into a wall of static; there was simply nothing there.]

Negative.

[ Not hungry? Seriously? He bites his lip, but with the same even tone, replies, ]

All right, soldier. Do you have any questions for me?

[ He doesn't have the same officer's instincts Steve did, but years of borrowing his traits, trying to force himself into the mould of Captain America: some things stick with you. ]

..Someone else had to be.

[It doesn't take much to categorize this person as nonthreatening. At the very least, he couldn't find it in himself to feel threatened.]

Exactly. So your "hello" was a Marco to call for the other person.

Anyway... you're on the Marsiva right now, probably. How long you been there? Just wake up?

[As soon as she asks, his demeanor goes back to being on the alert. Wanting things outside of a mission parameter weren't allowed, so he can see the fault right away. He should have known better than to give into the conversation.

His face pitches, that scowl right back in place as he shakes his head subtly.]

..I can see what you're doing.

[He does nod in acknowledgement when she gives her name, though. Everyone has an ulterior motive.]

Affirmative. I am unsure how long I was incapacitated.

That part doesn't exactly matter right now. We're completely cut off from our own homes at the moment, so it's better to try and focus on the now.

Have you heard about the show yet? All that?

Where is--

[His jaw snaps shut, considering what he was going to ask. Where is Pierce? Where is STRIKE? He knows they're not in this place- they're wherever 'home' is. Unless they are here and he wasn't made aware of it.

Something in his gut tells him that he is alone, however. That unfamiliar feeling settling like lead in his stomach.]

Nothing.

[ A-HA there's the crack. This Bucky is every bit as gaseous as his counterpart, except he doesn't move in to force himself through it yet. Patience. The shot will open, and when it does... ]

Are you looking for someone? Or do you want to know where you are?

[Coil is left looking at the screen for a long time, because the face he's seeing is familiar--the same one that belongs to the man who'd been validating and had gone out of his way to speak his language--but nothing else about him is the same. even the way he moves is wrong.

so... wherever Bucky's communicator is, there is the picture of some scarred-up adolescent kid with one eye on the screen. and he raps a finger on the receiver, so that the speakers make a sharp pop pop noise.

it's the only sound he can really make, without being able to speak.]

No. When I woke up, I was aware of certain things.

[Being in space, not being at home, certain mechanics.. How to talk to people? Not so much.]

But not the current situation.

Yeah, that's what I thought. Well. Surprise, we're all on TV right now. So they say. Our current "goal" is to get as many "ratings" as possible (good karma or something) and then we'll win the show and be sent home.

Unsurprisingly, this whole debacle is under debate by the people participating because we've never had an open line of communication with anyone who has anything to do with the whole thing. [ Beat, a sigh. ] Right now, we're in orbit of a beachfront planet so at the very least, you won't be wanting for fresh air when you get off the Marsiva.

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out of one prison & into another

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