Jason Todd (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asinisterkid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-04-18 04:11 pm
asinisterkid) wrote in driftfleet2015-04-18 04:11 pm
Entry tags:
001
Who: Jason Todd and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: A few hours before the shuffle.
[ The broadcast begins with a close-up of a man's face, brow furrowed, head tossing slightly in the throes of some flavor of bad dream. His mouth shapes words that could be no and Mom. When he starts to move more energetically, the camera zooms out and pans down, giving the audience a good view of the thrashing and -- yep, that's actual fighting, pure muscle memory and surprisingly good technique, given that he's unconscious. Probably a good thing this guy's sleeping alone, because anyone in bed with him would be being beaten pretty badly right about now. By the look on his face, though, the fight he's dreaming about is one he's losing, no matter how good he might be.
There's a sharp indrawn breath when he wakes up, but besides that, the biggest clue is that he goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he takes inventory, eyes still closed, flexing his ankle to test for the feel of the boot knife, stretching and moving in ways that would let him locate weapons by feel, rather than just reaching for what he should have on him and letting anyone watching know just where he hides the goodies.
...Nothing. He opens his eyes, reaches for the ones that would be less obvious -- nope, even the garrote wire's gone. Whoever searched him was thorough.
Though somehow his jacket's back, and in one piece. Huh.
He sits up, looks around for a minute, and then speaks to the empty air. ]
...Hey, Bats, if this was your idea, consider me incredibly unamused.
[ Or, wait, no, that's not right, there's something... he knows something... ]
Wait, I'm in space?
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: The Marsiva
When: A few hours before the shuffle.
[ The broadcast begins with a close-up of a man's face, brow furrowed, head tossing slightly in the throes of some flavor of bad dream. His mouth shapes words that could be no and Mom. When he starts to move more energetically, the camera zooms out and pans down, giving the audience a good view of the thrashing and -- yep, that's actual fighting, pure muscle memory and surprisingly good technique, given that he's unconscious. Probably a good thing this guy's sleeping alone, because anyone in bed with him would be being beaten pretty badly right about now. By the look on his face, though, the fight he's dreaming about is one he's losing, no matter how good he might be.
There's a sharp indrawn breath when he wakes up, but besides that, the biggest clue is that he goes perfectly still for a moment. Then he takes inventory, eyes still closed, flexing his ankle to test for the feel of the boot knife, stretching and moving in ways that would let him locate weapons by feel, rather than just reaching for what he should have on him and letting anyone watching know just where he hides the goodies.
...Nothing. He opens his eyes, reaches for the ones that would be less obvious -- nope, even the garrote wire's gone. Whoever searched him was thorough.
Though somehow his jacket's back, and in one piece. Huh.
He sits up, looks around for a minute, and then speaks to the empty air. ]
...Hey, Bats, if this was your idea, consider me incredibly unamused.
[ Or, wait, no, that's not right, there's something... he knows something... ]
Wait, I'm in space?
no subject
Tay Barnam, captain on the Paisley. You lost a custom made knife? Fuck, I'll hold 'em down and you can introduce them to the pointy end.
no subject
So, what's our incentive here? I mean, they've gotta have some way of making us dance like good little puppets, instead of just... attempted armed mutiny or sitting around picking our noses or whatever.
no subject
Well, there's the fact that we can't get further away from the fleet than they want without like. Excruciating pain and shit and we can't get any further after a point. And no one's found their way into the Marsiva - that's where you are right now - once they're shuffled off onto a ship.
Mostly I think it's because if we finish this shit, we get to go home. That's the "prize" at the end of their fucked up reality TV bullshit.
no subject
...Can't get any further at all? What, do they teleport us back after they hurt us enough to teach us a lesson?
no subject
Haven't pushed it yet, so I'm not sure, but I'll bet that's more or less it.
To be honest, I haven't really relished the idea of being stuck out there in excruciating pain and unable to get back so it'll stop. Moderate pain, whatever, but anything that knocks me down is gonna be hard to handle for very long.
no subject
Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea of where my pain threshold is, and I don't feel like revisiting that without a damn good reason.
So we play along and we try to be entertaining enough to go back home. Okay, then.
...Feel like sparring sometime? [ What? Violence is entertaining! ]
no subject
[ she grins widely. That is way too many teeth to be entirely friendly, Tay ] Not that I need the ratings to get my fists bloody.
no subject
[ All the grins. ALL THE TEETH. ]
no subject
[ Unless they really go for a long round, in which case she might go down to her sports bra. Look, angels and heat? Not fans. And her idea of heat is pretty cool compared to other people's. ]
no subject
[ What? He likes it when someone makes him eat mat. Chances to improve and all that shit. ]
no subject
[ She's not cocky, she just knows that between her speed and strength, getting her on the ground is gonna take some doing. ]