driftfleet | video/action | I'VE BEEN BEDEVILED

Who: Max Rockaaaaaaatansky (At Age 22)
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck, or at the Iskaulit bars!
When: Today.

[Augment glitches really are a bitch and a half, aren't they?

Max wakes up — different. Young, fresh-faced, barely over into his twenties. He wakes up in a shuttle, and boy, his mind is reeling; this isn't home. This isn't home at all, it's something out of some old sci-fi movie on the television, something a buncha' jockeys'd muck around on smoking some seriously fucked up mull. He knows things, certain particularly strange things: like how to pilot this strange shuttle contraption, like how the parts work, how they purr. He knows not to damn well airlock himself, knows how to use the phone. This is a phone, right?

He steps out of the shuttle, an old crippled dog whines at him. Ah, a friend, his only friend in the world at the moment. He crouches down and rubs at the dog's ears, eyes still glued in wonder at the room around him.]

Ahhh, hey, old mongrel, hey. Don't suppose you've got any clue what's going on?

[A pause.]

Right. A dog out of something science fiction that speaks a lick of English would be a stretch. Atta boy. Alright, alright, sit. Thatta' boy.

[He pats the dog's chest, stands up, adjusts his jacket... which is clean, but it's... different, in some ways. Where's his damn sleeve? Someone take a switchblade to it while he was unconscious or what? He puts a hand on the gun at his hip, in the holster, wandering quietly through the corridors of the Starstruck. Nobody pay him any mind, he's just... y'know. Exploring. The augment's still a bit jacked up, so the information is sketchy at best, but he's getting bits and pieces about the place. Jessie and Sprog aren't here. That much is clear, and it concerns him the longer he wanders (and questions the thing strapped on his leg, what the hell).

He can be found just about anywhere, poking at the squared space food on platters, investigating the rooms, hell, even just running a hand along the wall of a shuttle, interested on how it works.

What the bloody fuck is all this, guys.]

[VIDEO]

[Somewhere during all that — a broadcast. Hey look, it's some young buck transmitting from the Starstruck, don't mind him.

His accent is certainly more pronounced. Less gruffy. In fact, it's downright high in comparison to Max's grumbles and mumbles. Clear. Legible.]

If someone told me I was gonna wake up on some slick spaceship, I woulda' told them they've gone troppo and put them under observation. Starstruck — fancy name, sure is good for any means of transport. But. Why'm I here? Where's Earth, and where's the next space-cab to get there? Don't tell me there's some big conspiracy I wasn't privy to — honestly, I'm having a helluva' time trying to come to terms.

I need to go back home. Or at least get to bring people back here with me. Hell, I'll take that; as it stands, I got too much waiting for me that I can't go leaving behind, but I could be willing to move to space if I get a few people for the ride. Otherwise... No thanks.

And he way I hear it, we're all stuck here until these Atroma give us a punch-card out. Don't suppose anyone could tell me where to find one, because while I'm dying to take one of these shuttles out for a spin, I'm not too impressed by being stolen away by a bunch of dickheads in astro-suits to get the opportunity.

... They even took my badge... Buncha' bastards.

[He blinks, still a bit dazed, like he's living in a dream.]

I'm gonna go grab me a heart-starter at the bar, think I'll need one or five.

[BRB GOING TO YOUR BARS ON THE ISKAULIT. Feel free to meet him there, he's not doing much but staring off into space in thought.

OOC: Max is younger Max (who has a family and is a cop yoooo) for 2 weeks thanks to an augment glitch! Enjoy the improved personality while you can.

Also don't make fun of my attempt to give him Mad Max Slang. Y'bastards.

Replies will be from

theroadcop .]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Or a decent bike.

[... Guzzoline. The word is plenty familiar, but Max is so used to it as a genuine word, he doesn't at all consider that it's something found only in their world. He appreciates that she gets it -- though looking at her, he thinks maybe she's had a rougher time of it than him. Some people are just unlucky, huh?]

... As much as I'm interested in being on a ship, it's not worth much without my family. Can't imagine leaving them behind, not for a second. Don't you have people you couldn't leave behind, if you had the choice?

[Furiosa can't help a sharp look at him, making a wild guess to the fates of his family, given the nature of their world. She was also made hesitant by the question.] is rather not talk about it over the network. Can We meet?

[Rather'd not...? He frowns a bit, not happy by the response, but gives a quiet nod. His suspicion is dulled by the fact that he thinks he can handle himself fine, if this is some strange ploy. For what, he doesn't know, but it's not like this place makes for good muggings or attacks or whatnot.]

Sure. Where'd you like to talk?

Iskaulit, in the garden.

[She literally has nothing nefarious in mind but to talk sensitive matters with a friend who may not know it yet.]

[A garden? Jessie'd have loved that. A lot of people had a habit of collecting potted plants back home, some attempt to keep them from dying, what with the slow seep of poison into the earth. He gives a little nod.]

... Alright. Alright. I'll be there, sharp.

[Furiosa takes her time, wondering what to say and how much to tell him, but eventually she's walking up to the garden. She's got on her usual girdle under the straps of her prosthetic - nicer, newer clothes just didn't seem right.]

[Max comes in with his usual attire, minus the jacket; he's left that properly folded in the Starstruck, because it's not like he's on duty right now or anything -- no limp of course, because his leg is fine, has always been fine. When he catches sight of the woman, curiosity floods him (what happened to her), but he just gives a nod instead.]

Don't think we ever formally introduced ourselves.

You are?

[The resemblance to Max is even more striking in person, but Furiosa notes how fresh he looks, not just compared to the Max she knew, but to those in her world in general. She can't help but look him over with a frown, if not knowing how he got to the Citadel at least knowing the condition in which he'd arrived.]

[She draws herself straighter at the question, but there's no need for titles. Not here, not now.]

Furiosa, from clan Swaddle Dog of the Vuvalini.

Long name. Sounds like you're proud of it, though.

[He offers a little smile, and it's suddenly clear he's on his best behavior, playing polite. You're older than him, Furiosa; could be his mother, especially with the way the world works back home now. People are told to have kids as soon as their wits are about them. It's almost the end of it all, after all, and the population hurts something fierce.]

Can't say I'm the best choice, but - you wanted to talk, ma'am?

I wanted to continue our conversation, just not out in the open. It's not something I talk about often.

[And not with just anyone. This young, spry-faced Max probably can't appreciate what she's doing, but she's only doing it for older Max. There's part of her that wants to understand him better, here where they're forced into cohabitation.]

Most of the people I would go back for are already dead.

... Alright then.

[He takes the nearest seat, folding his arms and giving her full attention.]

I'm sorry to hear that... You got anybody worth bringing here at all?

[She said 'most'. That must mean something.]

She's already here. [The other Wives had their future ahead of them in the Citadel - Furiosa didn't want to complicate things by wishing for them here. And while she understands that death isn't a definite - what with the appearance of both Angharad and earlier, there's too much death from her world to try and wish for every fallen person to show up.]

You ... said you had a family?

[He blinks.]

Yeah, that's right -- my wife Jessie, and my boy Sproggo.

[He rubs the back of his head, smiling a bit.]

He's actually more of a... Max Jr., but it's confusing to have two of us Maxes in the same household, isn't it? He's turning a year old, the fussy little beast. [Though judging by the softness in his smile, he's utterly fond of the lil' bean.] That's why I got to get home sooner than later; this place isn't gonna be much of a home without the people from my home.

[Furiosa goes quiet, watching him, unable to hide some of the sadness. Theirs was a harsh world, and his silence now makes so much more sense.]

I'm sorry but, there's no way home. No reliable way, at least. Something about getting ratings for the show.

[He nods.]

I've heard. But things could change, eh? No point in putting things in a box just yet — some people go back, just takes a little more time.

... Is that something you'd want? T'go back?

[She looks at him carefully, then nods.] My people need me. I can do so much more there then here.

Sounds like you've got a lot of work cut out for you.

... I'd like to go back for my family... but also because I think I feel the same, a bit. My job is to keep the roads safer, to try to wrangle all the crazies with a thirst for hurting people out there. If someone doesn't, it'll all go mad, won't it?

[She looks at him hard, feeling that gnawing despair of loss.]

Word of advice? Focus on your family. The roads are going to fall regardless, and there is no lack of evil men in the world.

[His eyebrows raise.]

... Sounds like you know your stuff.

I've been educated.

[A good Wasteland education is one that allows you to keep living.]

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