#1

[rank1]

Passengers: Travis Touchdown and youuuu
Location: Various, but initially the loading bay.
Date: Jan 24th
Summary: Arrival.
Warnings: we shall seeeee




Travis arrives in a cool fury.

Who can blame him, really? He'd come to on the transport ship as it pulled into the loading bay, and while the various systems that be went through various protocols and whatever-the-fucks that happened with the arrival of a new inmate, he'd watched the inmate orientation with a steadily ticking frustration. What, a fucking tutorial video? Were they going to explain how to move, too? Of course he knows what he did –– he was fucking there. He was already arrested for it. He was released. Dressing it up like a video game doesn't make it any more tedious to dredge up.

What a pain in the ass.

He strolls off the transport. He walks like he's ready to run, shoulders set in a hard line, near vibrating with anticipation. He is glad that he is wearing a more or less fresh change of clothes after the last marathon –– in this case, ratty jeans and a t-shirt that say... well, whatever you interpret this to be communicating. You tell me. The important part is that he looks cool, even unarmed.

"Every prison level has some bullshit bit where you have to get your gear back," he says as he walks out of the loading bay. "Gotta find a guard, maybe fight a miniboss..." He flexes as he goes, lacing his fingers and stretching his hands out in front of him until his wrists pop. He rolls his neck dramatically, sighs when it cracks. "Unless it's a goddamn stealth mission... that shit is boring as hell."

Travis dips into a low lunge suddenly, first one leg, then the other. A grimace slides across his face. Oof. It gets harder and harder to let his gaming jags run through to four A.M. every year.

"But if it's a fight... fuck, I better not be out of shape."

Doing this without a beam katana is going to fucking suck.

Comments

[rank1]

Travis feels like he could chuck this guy across the hall. Kinda contemplates doing just that, actually –– it'd be satisfying, especially when this personified stack of shit thinks he has fuck-all to do with wardens. (He hasn't even met one yet and he's already decided they blow ass.)

"What's with the freak eyes?" Travis demands. He rattles Volk with a hard shake. "Fuck your glasses, what the hell is this?"

[saklas]

"What - uch."

Rattle. This hurts. Instead of a noise of anything like pain, it sounds more like frustration.

"Just how the fuck am I supposed to see my own eyes? I knew this would happen. You guys can't out-argue me so you stop pretending to be civil."

Yes, Volk. That's why this is happening. Because you're so smart.

Volk reaches to the hand holding him up and knocks on it like it's a door.

"Let go now." Not a demand or a threat, just: now is time for that action.

[rank1]

"Fine," he says. Travis drops Volk with little care for whether he has his feet properly under him. Not his problem. He strolls away a few steps, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. (Not cool.) He comes back and shoves a finger in Volk's face. "But to make something crystal clear, I'm an inmate."

[saklas]

Volk bruises a knee pretty good, but manages not to completely land on his ass, which he considers a win.

(Especially since he got out of this without any actual blows being thrown. Definitely a win. Time to do the stupid Velma thing and try to find his god damn glasses.)

The pointed finger lands near the center of a face that's doing a full cranky squint.

"What! Why didn't you go for the OPEN DOOR!"

He gestures vehemently towards it.

[rank1]

Travis makes zero effort to help Volk get his glasses. What, you just knuckle under to bad vision like that? Train your eyes to be better, dude.

He gestures broadly instead, disbelieving.

"I just came from there, why the hell would I go back?"

[saklas]

"I don't fucking know, take the vehicle and drive it home?"

Okay. Okay. Let's switch to managerial mode, where we steer idiots around into doing things that are useful. Volk puts down his eyelashes - they didn't give him any eyeliner, so the full effect isn't really there, but from where he is near the floor, the body language should still look cowed and malleable. He lets the impatient lines in his shoulders and jaw soften. Acting school, fuck it, right?

"What did they bring you in? I've been trying to figure it out. I just woke up here, like I was drugged."

A gleam of metal catches his gaze - there, bingo. He makes the motion of picking them up look resigned and slow.

[rank1]

Oh fuck. Fuck!

"Shit, you're right!" Like walking right past some missable collectible –– what a rookie mistake. Jeez. Oh well. It's cooler not to care, even though it's going to bug him forever. Besides, this weird little coquette floor show is funny to watch. Why does he always meet the weirdest guys? "I woke up on some sort of transport ship. It dumped me off here. You were drugged?"

[saklas]

Glasses go on, and the pink tint completely hides whatever it was that's going on with his blood vessels. Hooray, eyesight again. He is way way more confident now that he's not going to just be kicked in the face. Not completely sure, but at least there's a chance to like, dodge or whatever.

"I just woke up here," he repeats. That's all he knows. He straightens up, smiles as well as he can manage and tries not to make it look sarcastic. He goes to walk past Travis to look at the door that just closed.

Okay. So. So. New inmates are arriving, through here. It's been almost a month since the rest of them arrived.

"Did it look like the other ones?"

[rank1]

Travis just turns on the spot as Volk passes him. He jams his thumbs in his pockets and watches. This guy a pilot? He looks like too much of a nerd to be a pilot, and not the kind of nerd that gets a lot of time in Flight Simulator GX3000. Man, is he going to have to help this guy get out of here? What a drag.

"It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie," he says, very helpfully. "It fucked off after it dumped me, too. Don't worry about it. The other ships in there look cooler anyway."

[saklas]

So they decorated the van, but differently to the props in the garage.

"You're the first new arrival in a month. That means there might be more, which means that door has to open again. Was there a driver you could see?"

Oh, right. Volk waves carelessly.

"You're trapped, by the way. We all are."

[rank1]

"Like hell I am," Travis replies, flippant. It doesn't sink in easy. "Security can't be that good if I'm just walking around."

He gestures around them broadly before returning his thumbs to his pockets.

"I didn't see one. Maybe he was in the back taking a dump or something."

[saklas]

"Okay. Nobody to overpower, just a self-driving or remote access hookup we need to get into."

He doesn't know how to do that, at all. What can he do. What can he do with what he has?

"...I'll make you a bet. I bet you can't punch your way out of this place."

Volk still has his hands in his pockets, staring at where the door was open a second ago like he's trying to drill through it with his eyes.

[rank1]

"Punch my way out of this place?" Travis repeats, momentarily confused. What is this, a novelty Nintendo game? It's bullshit that they charge seventy fucking dollars for something with so few features. Win by punching! Cool. "Do you mean punch through the door, or punch a warden until they let us in? I was just thinking I'd find whoever was in charge and kill them."

[saklas]

Dial the impatience back. Sound sad.

"I meant just using violence, yes. I just don't think it's possible. You'll get yourself killed."

Sure, fuck it, that sounds enough like a stock phrase a compassionate person would use.

[rank1]

"Killed? Never," Travis scoffs.

But this guy seems pathetic. Travis almost feels a little bad for him; he can't take an elbow to the face, how is he supposed to get out of here okay? He sighs in a needlessly exaggerated way.

"If you don't think it's possible, what do you want me to do? Kick this door down for you?" he offers. "'Cause I'm gonna go kill whoever gets in my way anyway, but your doubt is a total buzzkill."

[saklas]

"No. If whatever you're going to try doesn't work, I want you to help me camp out this door and wait for it to open again. I can't sit here twenty-four seven ... but three or four people could."

Or more.

He's doing the math, now. Seven wardens. Six inmates. Still not enough if the wardens started using those sidearms ... but enough to work together to actually get something done.

[rank1]

"You want me to sit by a door for hours on end just in case someone comes in or out?" he repeats, skeptically. That sounds incredibly fucking boring, even with four people. "Dude, we could take a warden hostage and make them open the door."

It works in movies.

[saklas]

"In case somebody comes in a vehicle we can escape with."

Just as a reminder. Because. They probably will need the fucking van. That's a step he might need to get Rhys to do something about.

"Trust me, there's nothing to do around here. Try the hostage thing too, if you want."

Volk will... not participate in that. He schools his face into neutrality about it, still facing the door.

"I get the feeling that the people at the top would rather let us shoot the wardens than open this, but you just got here. Get a feel for yourself and see if you believe me."

Especially since he suspects that the division is arbitrary. The lunatics are running the asylum in the most literal sense he can imagine.

[rank1]

"I'll scope it out," he replies. He's not agreeing to a watch. He'll work like a dog at a lot of things, but sitting on his ass looking at a door sounds like it'd bore him to tears, and if there's anything Travis Touchdown refuses to be, it's bored. "Hey. Before I take off, what's your name?"

[saklas]

"Volkhov."

He doesn't ask directly, just turns his head. You?

[rank1]

Haha. That's Russian, isn't it? And they're in space. That reminds Travis of those old space race propaganda posters. Shit, they had some real good graphic designers back then. Oops, digression.

"Travis Touchdown."

[saklas]

Stage name. Sure, whatever. He works on the Isle of Joy, you'll get that. Volk turns his head back to the door.

"Good luck."

[rank1]

"Thanks. Good luck, if I make it out of here before you."

Spoiler: he does not, in fact, make it anywhere.