driftfleet | [video]

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[video]

Who: Daryl Dixon
Broadcast: Unfiltered Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva if anyone else is on it just yet (he's alone isn't he?)
When: Today

[The subject of this post obviously doesn't know he's being recorded. This is the Marsiva being all nice and broadcasting it's latest arrival's first steps in his new world for all the universe to see.

He's first shown wearing nothing but a frumpy, sweatsuit that's seen many, many, many better days (even with the cleaning that had happened) marked with an "A" on the front. His hair is in his face, dirty and greasy and it looks like it hadn't been washed in weeks. It hides his identity for the time being as he shuffles around the medical bay, quietly exploring his surroundings. He's rubbing at his right side, just below the shoulder, on his chest.

Every so often he reaches out to brush fingers lightly over a surface or an item as he moves out of the medical bay and into the main living quarters where he'll be for the week. Though he doesn't quite know that yet, of course. He keeps shuffling along until he reaches the bunks and lockers. He opens one to find clothing in his size.

The camera doesn't pan away as he shucks his sweatsuit - under which he's wearing nothing - and the scars littering his back are visible for all to see. A mess of parallel lines scattered across every inch of skin and interrupting the tattoo on the right half (a pair of what could be angels or could be demons, hard to tell). It's not visible for long, because he's quick to pulls on the offered briefs and undershirt. The jumpsuit comes next and it being sleeveless is a blessing to him because he prefers the sleeveless life. But in terms of viewership, it allows his nicely muscled arms to remain seen. Once more his fingers stray to his right side, just below his shoulder, on his chest. Like he expects something to be there that isn't.

He apparently has a thing against shoes because he doesn't pull any on as he turns back around, front to whatever camera was trained on him. Finally lifts his head enough for his face to be seen before he starts looking around for a communications array.

It's only when he gets to a console and brings up the menu that the video switches to a close up shot of his face. Exactly what one would expect from a ship to ship video feed.]

Alright, asshole, I'm pulling up the 'appropriate communication channels' so get your ass over here and answer me.

[The words came out as a low, annoyed grumble that didn't have much force to it. Apparently the silence of the feed up to that point had been intentional.]

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[Natasha keeps an eye on the broadcasts, but until Daryl says something, she doesn't pay too much attention. She knows what it's like waking up pn the Marsiva. She hadn't been in her best mood then either.

When he decides to speak up, though, she does listen and, after a moment, opts to respond.]

Don't spend answer. The people behind this? They stay behind the curtain. But if you have questions, go ahead and ask them.

[This was a face he didn't know. Couldn't have been pulled out of his head. A voice that was new, too. He slouched in his seat, knees drawn up so he could wrap an arm around them while he fiddled with a few switches to see if he could trace this signal, too. Figure out where it was coming from.]

Been askin'. You Atroma?

God, no. [Natasha snorts at the thought. Imagine that for a plot twist.] I was brought here, just like you. Just like everyone who's going to reply to you.

[He doesn't bother lifting his eyes as gives a dry 'uh-huh'. He's still fiddling with the buttons and the messages popping up in response.]

What can you tell me if you ain't the hot shit in charge?

Probably nothing anyone else can't—because like I said, Atroma isn't going to

[If he did look up, he'd find her attention steady.]

But I can give you the standard line.

Sure. Shoot.

[His fingers moved like they belonged on the console. It was weird. Knowing how to work it all like he'd been living with it all his life.]

[Sure is something, isn't it? Natasha notices how he's focusing on the console, and how naturally it comes to him. And she knows why.]

You've been kidnapped, and brought here allegedly to participate in a reality show. You know that for the same reason you know how to navigate the ships' computers here.

The Atroma put something in your head, an augment. That lets you use the tech, provides basic information, and among other things, makes sure we can all understand each other.

Seem about right?

[Daryl's eyes flicked up ever so briefly before returning to they returned to the console. His fingers stopped moving as he stared at it, looking disconnected, near emotionless before grunting softly in acknowledgement.

Then his hand slide to on side and the video feed switched from showing his face to showing a 'Please Stand By' screen. It switched back a few seconds later to show Daryl sitting up and leaning forward, looking more interested in what else he could do here.]

And where do you fit inta alla this?

[though the question came across as dismissive and uninterested, his eyes were more focused while he fiddled.]

Like I said, I was kidnapped too. Getting close to a year ago now.

[She doesn't take his attitude personally. At least not yet. He has plenty of reason not to be out of patience and suspicious of everything here.]

I'm just trying to be helpful.

Uh huh.

[He didn't believe she was trying to be helpful. Mostly cause he was still uncertain about believing anything about this was real. It probably wasn't even if it was one of the weirdest things his imagination had ever come up with.]

I don't blame you for not believing me, but you're gonna find you don't have a lot of other options.

[Collected and professional. Natasha is very good at being reasonable.]

[His eyes narrow and there's a hardness to his expression now. He didn't like being told he didn't have options. It sounded very much like being told he had to do what Negan wanted or the people he cared about would be hurt.]

Got no reason to believe you.

[Which meant believing her wasn't an option to him it the first place.]

[Natasha leans back slightly, her gaze still on his face. Not hard to see that he's going to be stubborn about this.]

No, not really. You don't know me. [And it doesn't look like he'd be inclined to trust her more even if he did.] What would it take to convince you?

[He snorted and let his gaze drop back to the console.]

Convince me that I've been shucked off and plopped into the middle of a sci-fi shit show cause some assholes think I'd be good for ratings?

[Daryl shook his head.]

Nah, figure I'll wake up from this in a few hours or a few days depending on how hard the hit I took was. Or I'll die and none of it'll matter any more. Musta been one hell of a blow to the head, though. Ain't never seen nothin' on this scale before.

I'm not entirely sure it's for the ratings myself. That's what they tell us, but... well. We are here. That much I can tell you.

[Her brows rise and her lips twitch.]

But when was the last time a knock to the head gave you dreams this lucid?

Been close to two years.

[It wasn't like his own head didn't already know this, so telling a pretty face it wouldn't do much. Probably.]

Only I didn't see no faces but my brother's ugly mug and I weren't waking up in something outta a Issac Asimov novel.

[A small huff, just short of a laugh.]

Must have been quite a hit. But that doesn't explain where I come from.

Figure I made you up or I saw you in passing once and my head just picked your face to fill this whole thing out. Makes more sense than anything else going on.

I suppose I don't have any compelling argument to make that you're not dreaming. You could try pinching yourself?

That don't work.

No? You know that from experience?

[Natasha firmly believes he knows this isn't a dream. Dreams aren't like this. Someone getting in his head... Natasha wouldn't blame him if he did think that, but who knew if he even had reasons to believe that was possible.

Your dreams must be a lot more vivid than mind.

[He shrugged. Hallucinations often came with pain, so more pain didn't do anything to disrupt it.]

Guess so.

So your friends? You figure they came from your head too?

[Natasha asks, glancing down at her own comm briefly as she changes tactic.]

Suppose that makes sense.

[Daryl's expression darkened into a scowl and he growled out his words.]

Ain't my friends. Done talkin' to ya. Go the fuck away.

Fair enough. I'll see you around, maybe.

[She cuts the feed from her end, respecting his request. Let him have time to come to terms with where he is himself.]

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