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| Joy Ride; open | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 6 2010, 03:43 PM (158 Views) | |
| prismcircuits | Jun 6 2010, 03:43 PM Post #1 |
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Songbird~
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((Liam Cruz)) He remembered the heart-stopping sensation of falling accompanied with the horrible knowledge that he would be dead in only instants before his ears were assailed by more than just the sounds of screaming as a strange beeping kicked in, barely intelligible, in the background. He blacked out then, so he was completely blind, dumb, and deaf to the notion of how he managed to survive. He couldn't even properly remember how he had gotten into his life-threatening situation in the first place. He had returned to consciousness with the insufferable sensation of itchy heat that permeated wherever his body was uncovered and flowed into his mouth, and speaking of there was a gritty, bitter taste in it. The man gasped and turned onto his side, spouting sand to clear the way for his lungs. He gasped for air, coughing the excess sand out of his system as he mentally marveled at the fact that he had managed to survive at all. The confused man laid on the sand for what felt like an hour, though he guessed that it was a significantly shorter time since the sun was roughly in the same place when he finally pushed himself into a sitting position. The young man was then treated to a brand new shower of sand. He shook it instinctively out of his reddish-blonde hair and he tried to vainly purge its existence from the nooks and crannies of his ruined outfit. Speaking of, what was he wearing? He guessed that the blue shirt, jacket, and pants formed some sort of cohesive unit when they weren't covered in sand, rips, and what looked like blood. Wait, blood? He inspected his body to find that the several gashes on his arms, torso, and legs now pained him gleefully since they had been filled with sand upon his landing. They didn't seem that bad, so he wondered about the inexplicable presence of the blood. He patted at his pockets but there were no clues there. His biggest problem that he could currently see was that he had absolutely no idea who he was. Sure, he knew that the stuff he was sitting on was sand, the water a few feet away meant the ocean, and that wreck half on land used to be a shuttle. Oh wait... He jumped to his feet a little too quickly, but his balance was quickly regained his balance and tried to again bite back the vague panic at not knowing who he was. He felt the beginning of a giant lump on the back of his head. The sands leading up to the shuttle's poor remains were littered with odd pieces of machinery that had been unceremoniously flung on impact, or so he guessed. It didn't explain his unharmed presence since the one thing he could remember was that he was falling in the shuttle. The man stumbled across the sand, noting how his right foot pained him in response. He only needed to look at the shuttle remains once to see that the other form laying on the floor in an incredibly in-human position was the dead other person he had fallen with. He turned away at the general revulsion in seeing someone of his own race dead, especially since they could have explained what the hell was going on. Perhaps he was a callous person? Or maybe he was just too numb to worry about death. He tried to take his mind off of the unmoving life-mass in the shuttle's remains by glancing at the various machinery in the sands, only to find something that looked instinctively familiar nearby. It was a thin, square device with a tiny window for the mechanical readout and only three buttons. He leaned over and picked it up, hitting the one in the center without much thought. The device hummed to life and flashed some inexplicable numbers before it started playing some audio data. The sound was garbled, but the voice on the other end was very easy to understand. "Sir...you might want to calm down a bit. There was nothing we could have done. You should just be glad that we managed to send off a warning to command in time." "...Yeah. That's real encouraging. Oh...what? Did you turn on that damn audio diary that the Captain kept?" "I thought you might want to update our status since he's dead...Ca-" "DON'T say it. I'm not doing it. It's too damn corny. 'Captain's log. Today a lot of shit happened and I'm going to have to submit a report about what intergalactic laws we broke today so I don't really see the point of bitching to a futuristic tape recorder.' Just turn it off..." "But..." "GAAAH. You're accusing me of not following regulations with your eyes. Pretty damn cheeky for someone who's known me for a grand total of four days." "You at least need to update on what we were doing. Do you...want me to do it?" "No. no no no no no. I'll get freaking reamed for this anyway. Alright. How does this go? Uh...Lieutenant Commander Liam Cruz reporting. Pretty bad day all around. We were supposed to be escorting the survivors of the Axordan Planet to their new home when we were attacked by an unknown enemy some damn unit of time away from the planet. It's not my freaking job to keep track of it, alright?" "...We were taking them to their Paradise. "We couldn't allow that". That's what those guys said before they fired, remember that, sir?" "Ick. Don't remind me. What exactly is it about 'man's search for paradise' that's so appealing? It sounds damn boring to me. I mean, paradise is fun and all that, but just for the weekend. It's like a vacation. You go to the tropical island where the native people sell their culture for a lousy Draller because they didn't have the know-how to get to college overseas. so you're there and you do the wining and dining and fucking with the native girls because they also need to make money for their starving families and it's best just to not think about that. I certainly never do. Ruins the image when the little thing in a flimsy piece of fabric has three starving little mouths at home who would be HORRIFIED to figure out what she does to give them the bit of food that they have. How do I know this? I got really lost and had an unpleasant run-in with the lady that the man at the hotel had so 'graciously' picked out for my personal pleasure. Don't give me that look, I was just accepting the offer. It's not like she had anything to lose. I'm certainly a helluva lot hotter than her husband. And yes, she has a husband. The one that her father practically sold her to when she was sixteen because HE needed to get rid of the extra mouth that now was attractive enough to make money for herself. That's life. I didn't invent the rules, I just play the game. "So you continue on, in that same boring paradise which is just so relaxing at first until you realize that you don't have the bankroll nor the time nor the damn PATIENCE to sit on the sandy shores any longer just staring at other people having fun. I mean, when you spend your days roaming the known universe and beating the hell out of aggressive aliens with horns in VERY strange places, you can no longer settle with either the picket fence woman with a career who expects you to take junior to ballet practice or whatnot and just sitting on that sandy island is enough to make you want to start your own private little war. Action, drama, intrigue. It gets into your blood until you can't sit still any longer unless it's just a small rest break between the missions. That's how I viewed my vacation. I imagine Paradise is like that, just without all the natives to do things for you. You have to build your own house out of gingerbread or something, make your own clothes, cook your own food, and for what benefit? To live without war? That's all well and good till some hard-ass alien decides that it would be pretty fun to blow up your Paradise because you had the nerve to act happy. Oh, don't give me that look again. you really should be monitoring the controls. I'm not the one who offered to drive this shuttle, and just think of how minuscule the damage we could take before meeting the vacuum of space...unless you want to explode and asphyxiate then I suggest you keep your damn eyes forward, sir......huh? What's that? Land? Good, but that pressure gauge is looking a little...OH SH--" All he heard was yelling, but that was enough. Liam threw the small recorder away, vaguely applauding its dramatic timing just when he was wondering what had happened. So he at least knew his own name, but he wasn't exactly pacified at the thought of his own attitude with the notion of an entire ship and race passing into the afterlife during what seemed to be a horrendous battle. He filed the conversation and his own doubts into the back of his mind for further review later. Liam sighed, feeling horribly achy and tired in the aftereffects of his ordeal. The initial adrenaline had helped at first, but now that it was wearing off, he was getting that bone-weary sensation that...well he couldn't remember the last time he had been so tired. Despite KNOWING HIS NAME, which he assumed would be the key to his entire identity, he had no idea except that he was a big jerk who had presumably heckled his coworker to death while he had survived, probably by his unprecedented ability to be an ass. ((I'm looking for someone to play either a native wherever Liam's landed or something like a passenger from the ship that shot them down. I mean, you could be whatever you want really, but an English tourist who happens to wash up on a secluded alien planet to play a concert for a children's charity (endless possibilities is what I'm getting at) would seem a little less likely in this scenario. So PM me if you're interested and we can hammer out the details.)) |
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<center><img src="http://i1331.photobucket.com/albums/w586/satelliteolove/kosignew_zps709e1219.png"/> <size=2> And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't; So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road. And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope; It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat. </size></center> | |
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