driftfleet | into the distance a ribbon of black

Entry tags:

into the distance a ribbon of black

Who: Dean Winchester (AU) & anyone willing to put up with him
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: the marsiva if anyone wants!
When: RIGHT NOW

[ There is something to be said for the few seconds before truly waking up, when everything is fuzzy and safe and nothing matters as much as it did the night before. But that moment tends to get shot in the foot pretty damn fast, especially when Dean is prone to waking up with a rush of adrenaline. Made infinitely worse by the realization that a) he does not know where he is and b) the automatic grab for the weaponry usually confined to his body results in nothing. Nada. His pistol is nowhere to be found, the blade in his jacket is missing, and no amount of grappling about solves that problem. And while he finds the comm device it only annoys him further because it's not his damn gun.

Which is right around the instant Dean shoves himself off the bed and shouts near as loud as he can manage- ] The hell is this! [ Followed with some more grumbling. ] Be better if I asked which Hell is this.. swear to God, this shit never gets any better.

[ It’s too echoey, too sterile, and the immediate need for answers is almost overpowering. He doesn’t give two shits about looking himself over, pushes aside thoughts of the last image that flashes across his mind, and instead gives one more look around the bed he woke in to try and find his weaponry because fuck this shit. Why he’s unarmed is of particular concern and a vast amount of silent panic, but he doesn’t want to stand here and leave himself open to anything either. Which implies moving, something that takes only another second to decide upon.

Not that he’s going to be going far…

No, after a brief stint of stealthy meandering, Dean manages to find himself striding down towards the medical wing because why the hell not. Where it’s near impossible to resist the urge to start rifling through just about everything he can get his hands on. Because Dean Winchester is a Class Act. And because living through the apocalypse tends to make one appreciate medical supplies, especially when you're inclined to... start shit. ]

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[ Dean just... squints. While he tries not to think too much. ]

Years.

Years, yeah.

Well, years for him. I was only there for -- ah. I think over a year, year and a half. It's a long story, but once we got rid of a murderous god -- you know how that is -- getting out was a hell of a lot easier. That Castiel went back home, fixed a bunch of things for his timeline. It's a mess to keep track of, but there you go.

I'm just thinking... if we can collect more information here and find a crack in the Atroma's armor... maybe we can do it a second time.

[He's fairly confident. But then, they've always figured out some way of fixing shit, even if more problems arise after.]

[ That is potentially interesting. If only Dean didn't think it was equally as useless. But hey, sending everyone else home seems like a grand idea. ]

Why the hell not. You get out of dodge the rest of the time.

[Are you being mean or are you being nice, it's hard to tell.

He'll just pretend you're being a chill bro. For his own sake.]

As far as I can tell, our best bet for information is on the ship you're in right now. You have places you can wander there, but there are also a lot of, uh. Locked, mysterious doors there nobody's been able to get into.

If there's a physical Atroma, I'm guessing they're in there somewhere.

[ Sure, go with that, Sam.

-- GDI you just had to tell him about locked doors didn't you. ]

Wizard behind the damn curtain.

Sure thing, Dorothy.

[... What? If you're going to be a shell of my former brother, Sam figures he'll have to pick up some of your name-calling weight. And at least you're easier to communicate with when we're talking 'case'. Or something as close to a case as we'll get.

He isn't too worried about telling Dean about it, though; people with powers haven't been able to break through. Stands to reason, an unarmed Dean, no matter how great they are at B&E's (and man are they good), won't be able to penetrate the annoyingly sturdy doors.]

Problem is, those curtains are defended. And I mean -- seriously defended.

[He fans his hands across the table, as if to cover the bases. That defended, Dean.]

They not only disarm us so we can't use anything to try and crack anything open, but even people with powers -- and I mean heavy powers -- haven't been able to do any good. You took apart a panel last time you were there, but as far as we could tell... nothing.

[ You are so lucky he has already disowned you. So very lucky. Which is a nice way of saying he doesn't really react to the name calling, because Cas has stepped up to the plate in that regard and Dean only ever really blows it off anymore.

Dude has forgotten how to handle a joke.

But at least he has somewhat accepted the level this talk is at. He can deal with it to a certain extent, save for the fact that he doesn't really like being told straight up to not try his hand at breaking in. Abandon all hope ye who enter here and all that jazz, which- okay, he's used to that as well. Doesn't mean he has to like it. ]

So we're throwing in the towel.

We're talking about likelihoods.

[Don't be such a debbie downer, Dean.]

Not saying you can't try -- just that barging through their front doors? Pretty unlikely it's going to work. Especially with us being stripped of any useful tools waking up. If someone did bust through the doors, they'd still be up the creak without a paddle. Or a life vest.

Not to mention... the augments. Um. You feel that thing behind your ear? Creepy sci-fi thing, there? That's a method of control, not just information pushing. Someone in this Fleet -- she did learn something, at one point. But with our augments, it's easy to just... wipe the memory clean.

And if I try to take it out, my day gets a lot worse.

[ Things Dean doesn't sound particularly concerned about anymore for 500, Alex. ]

[He nods.]

Uh. Pretty much, yeah. Not even considering the possibility that the person drops dead from -- whatever the programming is in this thing, there's also the possibility that it'll cross wires in your head temporarily. They've tried testing it here, and the guy who volunteered for augment removal, uh... skewered the person doing it, almost killed them. Augment flipped a switch in his brain until the danger passed.

Almost like a guard dog mechanism. In that case, anyway.

... Until there's a way to completely shut it down, I don't think we'll be getting much done around here.

[Here's hoping they don't fritz his just talking about it.]

Edited 2016-04-02 22:02 (UTC)

[ Oh, that's just fantastic. Because he doesn't have enough mindless killing machines in his life already - or, well, he did - now he has to worry about being turned into one for somebody's potential profit. Just the thought of everyone here being flipped into something irreversible is more than enough to make him mightily concerned. ]

Bet that draws an audience.

I'd imagine. Honestly, they said we're on a television show, but I'm not really sure what to believe. Nobody we've interacted with on the stations or planets have heard anything at all about this fleet.

If we are on someone's TV screen -- who?

How distant are they?

[He shrugs.]

Lot of questions.

And maybe we're just not asking the right people.

[ Or asking them in the right way. ]

[He quirks his brow.

Don't you do anything stupid, man.]

Or the fleet takes us places where there's no broadcast of it?

We don't pick where the Marsiva leads us, anyway. We can pilot shuttles, but attempting to pilot anything more than a certain distance will get you brought right back in.

[ He would never....

But really Sam, he's hoping that all this sharing and caring doesn't mean you think you're making some kind of headway with him. He's just starting to look all kinds of unamused, though that might be helped significantly by the information overload. ]

Here I was thinking they'd just let us wander off.

[ But no okay, he was done with this before it even started and his not-so-limitless patience is finally worn out. ]

Anything else?

What, you looking to be a rogue space pirate?

[Sam opens his mouth. Closes it. Considers carefully.

Man, this hurts.]

Well -- I... It depends. You have any questions about anything I could've missed?

[ A rogue space pirate would be better than a lot of other things, but no, not so much.

... But really, Dean wouldn't even know what to ask even if he actually wanted to ask something. Which he doesn't. ]

Not that I know of.

[He bites his lip, nodding.]

Alright. Get used to the place. There's going to be a shuffle soon, so you'll get assigned to a ship and a crew. I haven't heard of any crews that are outright a pain in the ass... except maybe the Huntress or Blameless.... but you should be good. Usually you're assigned by the augment you're given.

Though there's been duplicates of job occupations aboard ships.

[ Ohhhhh, perhaps the wrong thing to bring up. Dean is a touch pissy about the fact that Sam and Dean are now bros, and out of all the things Dean is not okay with, that is most definitely one of them. ]

Having a good time rooming with Cas?

[ Watch him change the subject!! But no really, be careful how you answer this, Sam. Because there's probably a world of hurt in it no matter what you do. ]

[Aaaah... W-well.]

Yeah, it's... fine. I try not to let him get me into benders but we're, um, fine. [He's not about to say they're not; it takes him a moment to work himself up to it, but he's not going to pussyfoot around Dean on these things.] Look. Even if he's not from my timeline... he's still Cas. I'm trying to help him out, keep him occupied around here.

[He's a drug addict of sorts and alcoholic, so. That's not good, man.

It pays to be observant and make sure he's okay.]

[ Dean just sort of.... leans back and folds his arms over his chest because it's the best way he has to appear exceedingly cavalier. Assessing the situation without looking like he gives any kind of a shit. Part of him knows that he can't stop Cas and Sam from, what- getting along? But that's hardly the point. He can still be bitter and annoyed about it, because this is Sam we're talking about.

And Cas? Is really kind of his. ]

Fine. Glad you're here to lend a helping hand. [ Ahah. No, he's really not. But let's just ignore the fact that he's mostly upset because of how disgustingly guilty he feels. Shall we? ]

... Yeah. I'm glad to be helpful.

[Sam's quiet for a moment. A soft breath in, though he looks straight ahead to Dean.

Firmly:]

You could always transfer ships later, you know.

Any time you feel like it, if the ship's not at capacity.

[... Could be here, too, when you're ready.]

[ .... what. What. What does he even say to that. He's not sure there is anything he can say to that, that isn't wrecked and fucked up and still pissed off. Because that's really all anything is anymore. It just adds another layer to it that Sam and Cas are buddies. ]

Because that'd turn out well for everyone involved.

It could.

Turn out alright, I mean.

... Sooner or later, we gotta talk about -- everything. I know things've been bad.

[He doesn't need to clarify.]

Edited 2016-04-05 06:56 (UTC)

Again, how is that your problem.

[ This is what happens when the world goes to the shitter and Dean has to kill bajillions of people, Sam. This is what happens!! ]

Edited 2016-04-05 13:16 (UTC)

into the distance a ribbon of black

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