bird dave (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
feathery) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-04-13 08:05 am
feathery) wrote in driftfleet2016-04-13 08:05 am
Entry tags:
004 ↯ audio
Who: Davesprite and whoever.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Indoors, moonside.
When: Now sounds good.
[Someone is done to death with masks and getting accosted by randos on the street. Thus, Davesprite has taken refuge indoors, since that's as good as it gets short of returning to the ships. He'd normally opt for text, but he honestly just wants to talk for a while. Even if his voice is equal parts bored and sullen.]
Sportball ambushes on the street are great and all, [it probably isn't possible for him to sound more sarcastic] but I got to ponder the selection happening in this contaminated stain on the face of space. Like, sure, there are "strategy games" [yes, those are actual, audible air quotes], but where my real battles at. You know, the wordplay variety, where you drop a witticism to a sick beat and slant it to rhyme. Twist that shit into ill verse and cause some deadly delirium not even the most decorated doctor could cure. Dude could be veteran to World War Disease and still find himself stymied by this nasty flow that makes even the gutsiest guerilla fold. Ain't a medic around who can mend my rap battle burns.
[A beat.]
So, yeah, maybe I'm only pissed about moon pollution central 'cause all these hostile idiots keep hailing me out of the blue and yet: not a single fuckin' rap battle. [This is definitely not the only reason he's pissed about moon pollution central, but priorities.] What's a guy got to do, besides deck himself out in a shitty respirator and biohazard costume. A live performance? God, this is stupid.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Indoors, moonside.
When: Now sounds good.
[Someone is done to death with masks and getting accosted by randos on the street. Thus, Davesprite has taken refuge indoors, since that's as good as it gets short of returning to the ships. He'd normally opt for text, but he honestly just wants to talk for a while. Even if his voice is equal parts bored and sullen.]
Sportball ambushes on the street are great and all, [it probably isn't possible for him to sound more sarcastic] but I got to ponder the selection happening in this contaminated stain on the face of space. Like, sure, there are "strategy games" [yes, those are actual, audible air quotes], but where my real battles at. You know, the wordplay variety, where you drop a witticism to a sick beat and slant it to rhyme. Twist that shit into ill verse and cause some deadly delirium not even the most decorated doctor could cure. Dude could be veteran to World War Disease and still find himself stymied by this nasty flow that makes even the gutsiest guerilla fold. Ain't a medic around who can mend my rap battle burns.
[A beat.]
So, yeah, maybe I'm only pissed about moon pollution central 'cause all these hostile idiots keep hailing me out of the blue and yet: not a single fuckin' rap battle. [This is definitely not the only reason he's pissed about moon pollution central, but priorities.] What's a guy got to do, besides deck himself out in a shitty respirator and biohazard costume. A live performance? God, this is stupid.
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[ But he can smell the weird alien sugar in it, or whatever aliens put in their candy. Who knows. He picks up a few bar and literally lifts them to his nose, smelling them. (More like breathing them in, let's be real). ]
I mean, they smell okay. Might as well try them. I don't think they're that expensive. [ So he grabs a few and when he's checking out? Well, the alien behind the counter talks him into buying a goodie bag of candy -- but what candy is in the mystery bag? Who knows. ]
no subject
He filches the goodie bag off Isaac almost immediately, whether he likes it or not, and peers inside.]
Fuck!
[He nearly drops the bag and shoves it back at Isaac.
The bag is almost entirely normal. In fact, when Isaac looks inside, he might not know what the fuck Davesprite is freaking out about at first. But snuggled beneath all of the normal candy is a big, fat, juicy larva with candy-colored spots. Its little legs wiggle and grasp at its breathable packaging. If it weren't a plump invertebrate, it would probably be cute. tbh, there are probably people who find it downright adorable in its natural state. One of them might raise it to become a beautiful alien butterfly or whatever it pupates into.
Davesprite just wants to eat it instead and is not ok with that.]
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[ Isaac isn't sure how to react, half managing the bag of perfectly normal candy and now nearly dropping this other bag on the floor. He shifts it around to peer inside and he lets out a groan immediately. ]
Oh come on. She said there wasn't anything living in them, what the heck. [ It's gross, too, wiggling legs and little plump body. He almost gags when he shuts the bag. ]
Dude we'll give it to someone else, one of these alien people are gonna want it I bet. Then we can have the normal candy, okay? Maybe you should go outside. [ Because if Davesprite looks at the bag again the way he had been, Isaac might actually throw up in his mouth a little. He is not gonna let his best friend eat a candy maggot. ]
no subject
I'm fine. It's cool, I'm good.
[He really isn't, but there isn't much else for him to do besides pretend he's fine.]
Just—keep it over there. [He motions away from him. How specific.] God, why do they have so many fucking bugs on the menu.
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[ Isaac idly looks around for a trash can or compactor or something. When he finally finds one, he stuffs the bag in it. It hadn't cost that much, and he'd much rather throw it away than chance his friend vomiting or eating bugs. ]
I don't know, it's a moon. Like why do they think bugs are good candy. They're not. That's -- I hate space. [ He groans at the thought, but shortly after? Offers Dave a chocolate bar. ] Eat it. Normal chocolate, bug free.
no subject
He takes the chocolate bar, malcontent.]
Whatever, it's only a month max. [HAHA THEY WISH.] But I'm kinda not feeling the local flavor. Are there any vegan restaurants. Those were all the rage on Earth, right.
[Davesprite, stop talking about Earth in the past tense...]
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[ He's only seen them in select places, but when the place says they serve bugs, man do they serve bugs. ]
But yeah, they are I guess. Especially in California. Vegan, gluten-free, froyo... all the fads in America.
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[He says like he ever appreciated that. Or was given the opportunity to appreciate it.]
Mostly it was just really fucking hot. Hot enough to broil your backside like a burger on a patch of tarmac. I swear that shit bubbled some days.
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[ He shrugs, not really appreciating NASA, either. If they could get rid of this moon, that would be nice. ]
But that's why you wear shoes and a shirt if it's hot. And you don't lie down on the street, either. [ Is he being sarcastic? Or is he serious? Who knows. ]
no subject
[It's devoid of any emotion: toneless, matter-of-fact.]
But thanks for the eloquent advice. I'll keep that in mind next time I decide to go play in lava.
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[ He's asking genuinely, he doesn't entirely understand, and he's not about to make a joke about something that clearly bothers his friend. ]
I guess living in werewolf town isn't as bad as I thought it was.
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[By the time he gets to the end of that sentence, he just sounds tired.]
And not even a fun video game, just a shitty one.
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[ He shrugs, looking up as they approach the docks where the ships are settled. As much as he hates being on this moon, he doesn't exactly like being cooped up in the ship, either. It's a lose-lose situation. ]
I guess this place isn't like that anyway. The fleet, I mean.
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[Dying comes with all the trauma associated with it, for one. And save scumming erases everything you know, that you lived through and care about, on the off chance that maybe, just fucking maybe, things will be better next time.
Davesprite is so tired of pretending to be ok with that.]
But no, the Fleet is just a glorified fucking petting zoo instead. What a fucking improvement.
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[ Isaac hadn't thought about it that way, and he isn't sure how to respond, really. He can't exactly understand what Davesprite went through, but it sounds pretty awful either way. ]
You're right though, we're just here to be entertainment. I guess it's not that different. [ He shrugs, going quiet a moment. ] Just gotta keep looking for a way out of this place then. Could still try to remove the augments or whatever, but it doesn't look like that exactly does anything but get someone hurt anyway.
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[It's fatigued, almost defeated.]
Removing the augments doesn't work. Going too far out of range—and it's a hella arbitrary range, but I never been a space guy—only gets you beamed right back aboard your designated shitcan. No one fucking believes you [and there's stress there, more frustration] if you try to tell them you been kidnapped, they just think you're nuttier than a fucking squirrel's nest jacked full of peanut butter.
[He shakes his head, irritable.]
I mean fuck, dude, none of us have even seen the hosts in person. We can't get back to the Marsiva. We don't got any idea of where they keep the cameras—and they are watching us, even if it's not on TV. And there are just. [He throws up his hands, movement sharp and stunted.] Literal days from when they were "calibrating" us that I cannot fucking remember and I don't know why.
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It's messed up, but I don't think there is anything we can do. Unless we start trying to tear things up, get their attention, but I don't know that that is what we want. I don't even know if the ship will let us.
[ He sighs, because they really are stuck here, in a way that no one can control. ] I don't even remember how I got here. But I know I'm security or whatever, but it's a useless title. There's nothing we're needing protection from anyway. So why give me the augment, anyway?
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[It's harsher than he'd like and he stops, drumming his fingers against one of the hanger rails. The shuttles are right there, but suddenly he doesn't want to get on board anymore.
He glances at Isaac, sidelong and so sharp that it probably isn't familiar. And then he looks away and leans against the rail, hands going into his pockets.]
Beats me. [He has plenty of speculation, but that's all it is in the end. Speculation.] Why do you think they wasted the time to treat us like fucking wetware?
[It isn't a rhetorical question.]
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[ He doesn't have an answer, because he's not sure even he knows. He leans against the rail, looking away from Davesprite. The look was strange -- the tone of their conversation strained. Isaac goes quiet, looking out around them at the weird moon and it's city. ]
I don't know why we're here or what we're supposed to do about it. We can try to get their attention, kick things around but I doubt it will do anything. But I'm also not sure too many people have tried to get answers out of them, either. People seem pretty happy here, sometimes.
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[But it's true. A lot of people are content here and Davesprite doesn't know how to deal with that. He doesn't care if other crew (and what a fucking joke that word is, like contestants, like they're willing participants when they're really just well-treated prisoners) enjoy being part of the Fleet—their choice—but it means he has no fucking outlet. He's seen enough bullshit about how maybe people don't like the Fleet, but at least no one's getting tortured, that it's better than wherever they were last. He's seen people get defensive about it.
Who knows, maybe Atroma banks on their bullshit being normalized. Why should their abductees give a shit if they can't escape, if they're subject to the whims of some faceless motherfuckers, as long as those motherfuckers do the bare minimum to keep them all content?
It just makes Davesprite fucking angry, in the end. But he's figured out by now that it's easier not to think about it. He's just over doing what's easy and it makes him feel totally fucking helpless instead. How do you escape from someone who always knows exactly where you fucking are? When you can't get rid of or disable the very thing they use to track you? (And that's what Davesprite thinks the augments are really for. To control them.)]
...I'd go back if I could. [He doesn't elaborate on what that means.]
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[ Isaac isn't sure what to say. He can't help his friend in any way and there is nothing he can do to change that. He runs a hand through his hair, something to do with his hands. ]
But until then we've got shitty space food and a lot of B movies. At least there's that. [ Isaac isn't trying to ignore the seriousness of the situation, but it's difficult to help someone when things are so tense. ]
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Yeah, I guess so.
[He pushes away from the rail.]
Come on, let's get out of here.