Piper 90: Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goneawaymod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawaymemes2020-09-09 08:52 pm
goneawaymod) wrote in goneawaymemes2020-09-09 08:52 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #2
![](https://i.imgur.com/iLcTJtA.png")
TEST DRIVE #1
So it's your first day at your new job! Welcome to the Jorgmund Family™! It's time to settle into your new workplace on the Piper 90 rig, the coziest place of employment this side of the Livable Zone. A leader in its industry, Jorgmund is excited to have you join them in enthusiastically envisioneering team-driven paradigms.
The Piper 90 rig's mission is not only an impressive undertaking in terms of impactful customer-oriented deliverables, it's providing a vital backbone to the Livable Zone by creating a safe region for citizens to live, work, and play. Jorgmund's "outside the box" thinking means they understand the importance of wisely investing in their human capital - you! You'll soon find that you'll take pride in this vital work - and the benefits can't be beat.
Rest assured, Jorgmund's multidisciplinary approach to our world's period of recovery means we know how to keep it real when facing this opportunity for restructuring and growth. Jorgmund: Even if most of the world has gone away, we can make a world of difference!
Synergy!
USEFUL LINKS
It is recommended you check out the following links first for info on the rig, rig conditions, game mechanics, and the intro and slideshow your characters would have to endure that takes place chronologically before the Test Drive Meme:
SCENARIO #1 - MOVE-IN?! MOVE OUT!
Well, hell, that was fast. Basically as soon as orientation's over, everyone gets shuffled into armored vehicles and a few boxes of gear are tossed in after them. Motion detectors, flimsy medical face masks, and... guns. Guns with flamethrowers. Even for the old hands at this, that's a new attachment, but the boxes all of the gear is in has electronic locks that refuse to open.
Before anyone gets any ideas, the doors are closing. The last view they get inside the Rig is a pair of medical workers dragging someone out of the 'interview' room, a tall muscular man in mismatched combat fatigues. Even without the twitching, the way he hangs limply in their arms leaves little doubt that whoever he was, he won't be joining them for cake. One of them carries his removed helmet, the other carries a removed body armor. On the chestplate a skull and crossbones can be seen, on the backplate are the words "contents under pressure."
When one of them sees them staring, she says, "Epilepsy, it seems, no doubt aggravated by Stuff exposure. We'll be taking good care of him."
Right, because the military lets epileptics in all the time, don't they.
They will never see him again. If asked about him later, they'll say he was transported to the Livable Zone, for the very best care in a proper hospital. Of course they wouldn't hire someome with health issues for a potentially stressful job like theirs, they aren't monsters.
The truth is he will get more coherent later and start complaining of a stomach ache, scans will verify something alarming, and he will be quietly killed with sedatives and quickly incinerated.
Before it's too late.
a) TAKEN FOR A RIDE
They're left to get to know each other, with the driver (in a separate compartment) informing them that they'll be at their destination in about four hours.
Meanwhile, for their viewing pleasure, there's a marathon of The Nutshack. Working media in the Gone-Away World is sometimes...lacking.
b) A LATE EASTER
...Blissfully, it's interrupted some three hours later. The boxes all click, allowing the unfortunates to grab the gear, and the Nutshack ends abruptly as the face of a harried middle manager takes up the screen, people walking back and forth behind her with the faked urgency of people who know the boss is watching. "All right, New Hires. I know some of you have just been hired, but we here in Jorgmund like our people to be able to hit the ground running." She smiles blandly, in that corporate way where no muscle above her nose so much as twitches. "This mission should be a milk run for you, though, a good way to stretch your legs and show what you're made of. It's just a bit of a delivery job, that's all. You'll be making your way to the old Pilton town, recently the site of an Incursion. To go with the milk, you're grabbing us some eggs."
Suddenly, her image contracts to the lower left corner of the screen. The main screen is filled with a single image, rotating slowly. "Our resident biology experts think that the life forms that hatch from these will be very useful in advancing various areas of science, plus they might be able to resist Stuff storms. We want an unhatched egg, drone footage shows that there's a good number of them are already empty."
Another image, this time of some kind of glowing box. "The engineers say that this will keep the eggs, and their cargo, in a kind of stasis. Just get one in there and it's mission accomplished. Easy, right? Makes me wonder why we even hauled you guys out of orientation for it." She shrugs, tossing a folder aside and glancing at a paper someone's just passed her. "Oh, right. Pilton's a write-off. They rejected our offers of help with this whole mess when it started up, so they're probably all infected with Stuff or some shit anyway, so safeties off and fire is free. Don't kill each other but anyone else is fair game. You're probably doing them a favor somehow anyway, we don't need mutants mucking up the place."
She sets everything down and leans in, filling the screen again. "Yeah, and just so you newbies know the drill, don't run. You remember what it felt like during orientation." They've already felt the first bite of the nanochains. "We got trackers in you and we don't appreciate it when our boys go AWOL after we go through all of the trouble of saving their lives from the Wilds." The transmission ends and all that's left is a map of Pilton displaying, with the cartoon's audio still playing in the background.
The vehicles all clank to a stop and open the doors. Pilton looks to be a mid-sized town, might've been home to a few tens of thousands of people once. Curiously, a tall, thick wall surrounds much of it, but something's knocked holes in it. It's in front of one of these gaps that the trucks have stopped. Inside, a thick mist obscures all but the tallest buildings, half-ruined by some disaster. Lots of shorter, squatter buildings just barely poke over the top. But some of them seem to have some sort of newer additions, a black, shiny, organic support for a few buildings. Hard to see details, though, because of heavy mist obscuring vision. The map suggests that there's a subway system... or possibly just an oversized sewer. It's hard to tell, but the way the drivers honk, so they can leave, they're not giving any more time to decide.
Motion detectors on? Locked and loaded? It's time to go. Just ignore the feeling that you're being watched.
c) THIS WAY FOR SENSITIVITY TRAINING
Well, it turns out that those eggs? They hatch sometimes! If you're lucky, this side will be all that you see. If not, well...
The radios crackle and the manager's voice comes back on, for everyone. "We're seeing some funky bio readings. Yeah, the Science department thought that one or two of you might get jumped. It's fine, just don't lose whoever that is. Pop your stasis box around them, it'll expand, and drag them back to the trucks. You can try pulling them off, I guess, but they want to see what happens when someone gets up close and personal."
There's a pause.
"Oh, uh. Don't try to pull them off. Got a report from another crew that it'll tear and dribble acid over everything. Well, we at Jorgmund appreciate the lengths you all are willing to go for the company and it'll reflect in your quarterly performance reviews." That's small comfort for anyone who's at risk of being down a man.
Then again, at the noise, there are moans from the walls and ceilings. There's a few people stuck in there, some with those creepy things wrapped tight around their necks and faces... some with with them lying dead at their feet. Some of them aren't making so much noise on account of the massive, gaping hole in their chests.
Something's hissing and writhing around your ankles, by the way.
About to spring.
d) YOU DONE KNOCKED OVER THE ANT HILL
Did you get lost? Not to worry, if those motion detector pings are anything to judge by, you're about to have lots of company! They're big! They're fast! They're black, shiny, and can climb on the walls!
Oh, and these guys bleed acid too.
The manager's voice on the radio blares out loudly. Too loudly. "By the way, it sounds like you guys have company! Did we mention that Jorgmund has excellent medical benefits and a highly trained staff with the latest equipment? Don't be afraid to get into a bit of a scrap! And remember, teamwork makes the dream work! So fire up those flamethrowers and show them how Jorgmund takes care of the competition!"
As bad as everything is, at least you can hide from them for a bit. And, hey, that civilian stickied to the wall who got all chummy with the alien babies? The one you might not have managed to seal into the box correctly? They're waking up now! An extra hand to fight these guys off will be handy! Especially since the monsters seem to be trying to guide you away from the exits, pushing you further into the hive.
e) MEET THE NEW BOSS, SAME AS THE OLD BOSS
So, a heartless, soulless, people-eating monster who doesn't care who suffers as long as the numbers go up? Boy, that sure sounds familiar.
Whether it was a tactical withdrawal, a blind rush, went in to rescue a pal, or you were dragged into a lower chamber after being snatched up by a batch of drones, you're now in a vast chamber filled with eggs. And there's the Queen hissing her displeasure at your company. And you thought the regular guys were huge.
She's lounging on the wall, attached to a pulsating ovipositor that stretches the length of this massive room, surrounded by smaller drones caring for her and the eggs surrounding her. But, luckily, it looks like before the bugs... adapted this whole mess to suit themselves, it was a construction site, and the hive resin hasn't quite covered some of the equipment.
Or some of the barrels with explosive warnings written on them.
Whatever you're going to do, think fast. This lady's no pushover, and she's the kind of boss who likes to get her hands dirty to show the troops that she still has what it takes.
Due to Stuff shenanigans reality will glitch, making this fight one that must be accomplished possibly quite a few times before reality allows her to be dead.
Because she doesn't believe she would die that easily.
Every time she dies, she'll come just a little closer to being gone for good.
f) HOMECOMING KING
Maybe you were there for all that. Maybe you missed it. Maybe you actually did your job. Somebody must have, because you're out there in the open air. The wind is sweeping through the ruins of Pilton, a refreshing rain washing away all of the evil that's been committed there. Even the manager's voice, congratulating everyone on a successful mission complete, ordering everyone back to the armored vehicles, seems upbeat and chipper.
Gather your wounded. Pick up your trophies. Usher civilians you may have saved against orders into the transports. It's time to go home. Your team's about halfway there when thunder booms menacingly in the background. Seems to be a messy storm coming, so it'll be a relief to be inside.
...Funny, that thunder just now. Thunder's supposed to come after lightning not-ah. There it is. Maybe it was an echo of a flash you didn't notice.
But don't echoes get quieter?
That's when a big fella comes around the corner. It turns its head, looking dead at your group, and the hiss it makes is a nightmarish mingling of a bull crocodile and one of the drones from inside. And then it roars, charging towards your group, massive tail smashing part of a building to rubble as it goes.
Bullets aren't going to be enough for this tyrant.
Even worse: the ground suddenly shudders even more, rumbling and shaking in a great cacophonous outpouring of sound...
And you see that the smaller version of the creatures aren't the only ones that travel in packs.
g) ON THE ROAD AGAIN
That was awful. But it's over now. The ride home is quiet, with the dulcet tones of Bob Ross filling the air on the way back. Rest, relax, drink some water, have some rations, and check up on your friends. Because after an experience like that, what else can they be?
If any New Hires have saved a civilian against orders, hopefully you're not in one of the unlucky trucks where they're starting to groan and clutch at their chest, face contorting in agony. Hopefully that's not a fellow passenger for you, and you can just ride home.
They're left to get to know each other, with the driver (in a separate compartment) informing them that they'll be at their destination in about four hours.
Meanwhile, for their viewing pleasure, there's a marathon of The Nutshack. Working media in the Gone-Away World is sometimes...lacking.
b) A LATE EASTER
...Blissfully, it's interrupted some three hours later. The boxes all click, allowing the unfortunates to grab the gear, and the Nutshack ends abruptly as the face of a harried middle manager takes up the screen, people walking back and forth behind her with the faked urgency of people who know the boss is watching. "All right, New Hires. I know some of you have just been hired, but we here in Jorgmund like our people to be able to hit the ground running." She smiles blandly, in that corporate way where no muscle above her nose so much as twitches. "This mission should be a milk run for you, though, a good way to stretch your legs and show what you're made of. It's just a bit of a delivery job, that's all. You'll be making your way to the old Pilton town, recently the site of an Incursion. To go with the milk, you're grabbing us some eggs."
Suddenly, her image contracts to the lower left corner of the screen. The main screen is filled with a single image, rotating slowly. "Our resident biology experts think that the life forms that hatch from these will be very useful in advancing various areas of science, plus they might be able to resist Stuff storms. We want an unhatched egg, drone footage shows that there's a good number of them are already empty."
Another image, this time of some kind of glowing box. "The engineers say that this will keep the eggs, and their cargo, in a kind of stasis. Just get one in there and it's mission accomplished. Easy, right? Makes me wonder why we even hauled you guys out of orientation for it." She shrugs, tossing a folder aside and glancing at a paper someone's just passed her. "Oh, right. Pilton's a write-off. They rejected our offers of help with this whole mess when it started up, so they're probably all infected with Stuff or some shit anyway, so safeties off and fire is free. Don't kill each other but anyone else is fair game. You're probably doing them a favor somehow anyway, we don't need mutants mucking up the place."
She sets everything down and leans in, filling the screen again. "Yeah, and just so you newbies know the drill, don't run. You remember what it felt like during orientation." They've already felt the first bite of the nanochains. "We got trackers in you and we don't appreciate it when our boys go AWOL after we go through all of the trouble of saving their lives from the Wilds." The transmission ends and all that's left is a map of Pilton displaying, with the cartoon's audio still playing in the background.
The vehicles all clank to a stop and open the doors. Pilton looks to be a mid-sized town, might've been home to a few tens of thousands of people once. Curiously, a tall, thick wall surrounds much of it, but something's knocked holes in it. It's in front of one of these gaps that the trucks have stopped. Inside, a thick mist obscures all but the tallest buildings, half-ruined by some disaster. Lots of shorter, squatter buildings just barely poke over the top. But some of them seem to have some sort of newer additions, a black, shiny, organic support for a few buildings. Hard to see details, though, because of heavy mist obscuring vision. The map suggests that there's a subway system... or possibly just an oversized sewer. It's hard to tell, but the way the drivers honk, so they can leave, they're not giving any more time to decide.
Motion detectors on? Locked and loaded? It's time to go. Just ignore the feeling that you're being watched.
c) THIS WAY FOR SENSITIVITY TRAINING
Well, it turns out that those eggs? They hatch sometimes! If you're lucky, this side will be all that you see. If not, well...
The radios crackle and the manager's voice comes back on, for everyone. "We're seeing some funky bio readings. Yeah, the Science department thought that one or two of you might get jumped. It's fine, just don't lose whoever that is. Pop your stasis box around them, it'll expand, and drag them back to the trucks. You can try pulling them off, I guess, but they want to see what happens when someone gets up close and personal."
There's a pause.
"Oh, uh. Don't try to pull them off. Got a report from another crew that it'll tear and dribble acid over everything. Well, we at Jorgmund appreciate the lengths you all are willing to go for the company and it'll reflect in your quarterly performance reviews." That's small comfort for anyone who's at risk of being down a man.
Then again, at the noise, there are moans from the walls and ceilings. There's a few people stuck in there, some with those creepy things wrapped tight around their necks and faces... some with with them lying dead at their feet. Some of them aren't making so much noise on account of the massive, gaping hole in their chests.
Something's hissing and writhing around your ankles, by the way.
About to spring.
d) YOU DONE KNOCKED OVER THE ANT HILL
Did you get lost? Not to worry, if those motion detector pings are anything to judge by, you're about to have lots of company! They're big! They're fast! They're black, shiny, and can climb on the walls!
Oh, and these guys bleed acid too.
The manager's voice on the radio blares out loudly. Too loudly. "By the way, it sounds like you guys have company! Did we mention that Jorgmund has excellent medical benefits and a highly trained staff with the latest equipment? Don't be afraid to get into a bit of a scrap! And remember, teamwork makes the dream work! So fire up those flamethrowers and show them how Jorgmund takes care of the competition!"
As bad as everything is, at least you can hide from them for a bit. And, hey, that civilian stickied to the wall who got all chummy with the alien babies? The one you might not have managed to seal into the box correctly? They're waking up now! An extra hand to fight these guys off will be handy! Especially since the monsters seem to be trying to guide you away from the exits, pushing you further into the hive.
e) MEET THE NEW BOSS, SAME AS THE OLD BOSS
So, a heartless, soulless, people-eating monster who doesn't care who suffers as long as the numbers go up? Boy, that sure sounds familiar.
Whether it was a tactical withdrawal, a blind rush, went in to rescue a pal, or you were dragged into a lower chamber after being snatched up by a batch of drones, you're now in a vast chamber filled with eggs. And there's the Queen hissing her displeasure at your company. And you thought the regular guys were huge.
She's lounging on the wall, attached to a pulsating ovipositor that stretches the length of this massive room, surrounded by smaller drones caring for her and the eggs surrounding her. But, luckily, it looks like before the bugs... adapted this whole mess to suit themselves, it was a construction site, and the hive resin hasn't quite covered some of the equipment.
Or some of the barrels with explosive warnings written on them.
Whatever you're going to do, think fast. This lady's no pushover, and she's the kind of boss who likes to get her hands dirty to show the troops that she still has what it takes.
Due to Stuff shenanigans reality will glitch, making this fight one that must be accomplished possibly quite a few times before reality allows her to be dead.
Because she doesn't believe she would die that easily.
Every time she dies, she'll come just a little closer to being gone for good.
f) HOMECOMING KING
Maybe you were there for all that. Maybe you missed it. Maybe you actually did your job. Somebody must have, because you're out there in the open air. The wind is sweeping through the ruins of Pilton, a refreshing rain washing away all of the evil that's been committed there. Even the manager's voice, congratulating everyone on a successful mission complete, ordering everyone back to the armored vehicles, seems upbeat and chipper.
Gather your wounded. Pick up your trophies. Usher civilians you may have saved against orders into the transports. It's time to go home. Your team's about halfway there when thunder booms menacingly in the background. Seems to be a messy storm coming, so it'll be a relief to be inside.
...Funny, that thunder just now. Thunder's supposed to come after lightning not-ah. There it is. Maybe it was an echo of a flash you didn't notice.
But don't echoes get quieter?
That's when a big fella comes around the corner. It turns its head, looking dead at your group, and the hiss it makes is a nightmarish mingling of a bull crocodile and one of the drones from inside. And then it roars, charging towards your group, massive tail smashing part of a building to rubble as it goes.
Bullets aren't going to be enough for this tyrant.
Even worse: the ground suddenly shudders even more, rumbling and shaking in a great cacophonous outpouring of sound...
And you see that the smaller version of the creatures aren't the only ones that travel in packs.
g) ON THE ROAD AGAIN
That was awful. But it's over now. The ride home is quiet, with the dulcet tones of Bob Ross filling the air on the way back. Rest, relax, drink some water, have some rations, and check up on your friends. Because after an experience like that, what else can they be?
If any New Hires have saved a civilian against orders, hopefully you're not in one of the unlucky trucks where they're starting to groan and clutch at their chest, face contorting in agony. Hopefully that's not a fellow passenger for you, and you can just ride home.
➤ Feel free to play around with powers. If your character has powers from canon you want to play around with, go for it. If you'd like to test out possibilities for game powers, also go for it. Feel free to change it up from thread to thread if you need to. This can be handwaved as exposure to Stuff making characters' powers shift a few times before settling.
➤ Potential players may use test drive threads as their log samples. However, at least one post in their thread must fit the requirements for apps, both in length (200 words) and in quality. If you do plan on using a thread as a sample, please make sure the writing throughout your threads is a good example of your writing skills and has some solid examples of the character's voice.
➤ Players can eventually count TDMs towards AC. They can only count towards comment-based AC proofs.
➤ Potential players can opt to keep these threads as game canon when they app in, or start over fresh, based on preference. The Stuff bringing them to the game universe can fog their memories, if players don't want their character to remember TDM threads when introing into the game.
➤ The game is invite-only. Players without invites are allowed to tdm since some of them may know someone in game to ask for one, and since some people enjoy TDMs just for fun in games they don't plan to app into. But an invite is required during the apping process.
➤ The game is at a starting cap at 30 players. Apps are rolling apps that have a wait queue if the cap has been exceeded. Currently the cap is 23 of 30 players.
no subject
... it's Tucker. [ Present and accounted for and looking an appropriate level of completely crestfallen. He's speechless for a long moment, then. This will likely not happen again in the near future.
This shouldn't be something that's happening. Even considering Wash's particular circumstances.
Suddenly Tucker is all the more keenly aware of the fact that, as far as he's seen, there really isn't anyone else from home stuck with Jorgmund. No one else to lean on.
(Because how much can he count on anyone else here, really? He doesn't exactly have the best track record when it comes to the benefit of the doubt.
If he's not feeling great about that, Wash probably has it twenty times worse just because he's Wash. Maybe even higher if he's got memory problems. Math is for nerds, but Tucker can bet on that much.) ]
Uh. The short version is that we dealt with a lot of Freelancer fallout and we're friends? The long version gets complicated and like, way weirder than you'd think. I can go in for the long haul, but it might be easier to bust it down into installments if you really don't remember anything. [ Digestible installments. One thing at a time.
Tucker drums his fingers on his knee. Twists his mouth to one side.
Like it or not, he's the only one here so far. So, yeah, he has to try. A little more of the old leadership mojo. Stick to Wash, look out for him. And then just keep trying. Hope the others make it here in a less trapped-by-collars way, but have his shit on point even if they don't.
Figure it out as much as he can until they blow the right thing up and he drags Wash home. Because Wash is still Wash. And then once they're all together, they'll really be okay. That's maybe the only thing Tucker's a hundred percent resolved about. ]
I guess we're lucky Caboose wasn't here to find you first. Who knows what weird bullshit he'd try to tell you happened?
[ He really can't afford to indulge in freaking out about the prospect that everything they've ever been through together, even as far back as meeting each other, went poof from Wash's brain overnight. Maybe permanently.
He can't believe he felt less alone when he was stranded in a fucking desert temple.
But that's a future Tucker's panic. Sucks to be that guy. Right now, it's not a big deal as long as he acts like it's not a big, horrifying, emotionally-painful deal. He'll be bitching about this to Grif before he knows it. ]
no subject
[It's Tucker, your friend, says a part of his mind that's working very hard right now, but when he looks back to see how they became friends, when they became friends, why they became friends, there's... Well, it's not so much an empty space as a space where there are people in multi-colored armor, moving and doing things, with their names blurred and their voices dubbed over with confusing murmurs. Substance, but no specifics.]
[And then Tucker drops a certain C-name and any earnest exploration of memory briefly stops. He sighs deeply.]
You're one of those idiot sim troopers.
[Ouch.]
[Except, he keeps going, moves past that, his voice dry and a little bitter.]
You're friends with Caboose. I'm friends with someone who's friends with Caboose.
[A pause, a look of confusion, realization, and abject horror.]
I'm...friends...with Caboose? Oh, that cannot be right.
[His neck hurts, all of a sudden. He reaches a shaking hand up to it. Voices calling out for him to get down, blood spatter, and two voices, screaming. One's...Carolina's? (That can't be right, she's been dead for years) but the other voice was male, a flash of aqua armor as his vision fades -]
[The hand at his neck starts shaking violently, moves to card through his hair and pull like it has a mind of its own, like it's trying to make him pay extra attention.]
I know that I know you, I just can't remember how. The last thing I remember clearly was Sidewinder. The Meta and I were fighting Tex...
[And then...]
Jorgmund said I'd had a brain injury, but somehow exposure to the Stuff...altered it in an unknown way. They said that I was...stable, but that it might effect my memory, that there are things I may have lost for good.
[The cover story, because he's not supposed to tell anyone about the implant when they're dangling it over his head.]
no subject
Honestly, random people calling all that out in general, usually not worth getting worked up about. They all know who and what they are. Coming from Wash, it's just... weird.
He can't hang onto the feeling. Least of all when concern butts in more sharply, old guilt, that whole mess. And a tiny bit of hope that he just calls relief. Wash actually knows he knows him. That's something. It makes this a little bit easier. And the last clear memory thing gives him a decent starting point. ]
Well, you definitely lost your friend standards before you lost those memories, so don't be too much of a dick if Caboose does get stuck here. Meh, not that he'll really care either way. Send him my way, I'll try to explain it. [ There, requisite Caboose care handled.
The Reds can fend for themselves. ]
Sidewinder was forever ago, though. Not as forever as it could be? Like, at least you've met most of us. We've just gotten dragged into a lot of stuff since then. Kicked the Meta's ass, first things first. It was awesome.
[ Oh right. Higher point of concern with Wash looking this much like shit already. ]
You don't have to push it or anything. Apparently we're gonna be here forever, so we have time.
no subject
[Okay, okay, wait wait! He's got the tiniest little wisp of that part.]
...We did something creative with a warthog.
[Okay, this is interesting. His missing time has been one big blank, for the most part. But it's easier to draw a few details out now that he's talking to this Tucker.]
["We" is the word he's using, when talking about what's happened since then. "We've just gotten dragged into a lot of stuff since then." Like he's just...stayed with them.]
So, what, we've spent the last few years buddying around?
[Of course he sounds skeptical, given the last thing he remembers, the mental place he'd been at during that time.]
I shot two of those Red soldiers.
no subject
There's a balance somewhere between encouraging and pressuring too much with this memory thing. Tucker is already steeling himself for the point when he fucks it up and has to readjust. He just hopes that part isn't super harsh on Wash.
For now, he takes a beat. Has a swig of dumb sippy-cup water with little to no apparent regard for his hydration dignity. And then shrugs, very elegantly. ]
They got over it.
no subject
They got over it.
[There's a tension in his body that irons itself out, and a harshness in his expression that relaxes and the change is...profound. He goes from the Wash that shot Donut and Lopez and looks like the Wash that came after, the one that walked into Blue base for the first time with a grateful slope of his shoulders because after it all there was miraculously a place where he was welcome.]
You just...let me tag along after that. Even after what I did.
[It suddenly feels like a metal spike has been jammed in his head and he holds a hand up to it.]
[And then he gets a flash of standing in a base, confused about what he was just doing, and remembers several voices gently reminding him of what he'd been in the middle of.]
[His expression is soft and his voice is softer and not as skeptical.]
And then you all helped me get by. After my injury.
no subject
Because that's definitely not normal, brain damage or no. He adds infirmary investigating to his to-do list.
Dragging Wash back with them feels like about a million years ago now. Some dumb thing about evening out the teams and Caboose being big on strays. Grateful, kinda-wary Wash. Man. Trip down memory lane much. ]
Yeah, of course. We've got your back. [ Finally, something he can say with full, genuine conviction. ] Good luck getting rid of us at this point, dude. As far as idiot sim troopers go, we're mostly stubborn ones.
no subject
[But... he's always led a dangerous life. And it's hard to believe that people that would care for him while brain damaged didn't care enough to at least try to prevent it from happening.]
[
Enough to break time.][He suddenly feels...conflicted. About what he agreed to do for Jorgmund, and the feeling of "no, don't do this" maybe comes from a part of his brain that remembers more than the rest.]
[They got over it. Just got over him being that way. And then took care of him.]
[It's not just a pain angle, there's hope. And maybe a little gratitude. To people he doesn't know. And it makes him wonder if forgetting them was really an accident. After all, Jorgmund had done nonconsensual brain surgery.]
When I was...hurt by Epsilon, all my friends left Project: Freelancer while I was recovering. And I get that, that they needed to survive. I was struggling mentally and not as...capable as usual.
So no one came for me, no one even tried to see if I could keep up when they went on the run.
[His brows furrow.]
There are some people that would think that was too much work; taking care of someone who has an...infirmity of that nature.
[He looks at him, expression soft with wonder.]
I can't remember much, but I can remember at least enough to be grateful.
[The feeling is there, and a little bit of his forced loyalty to Jorgmund gets chipped away to make room for a list of people he'll try to avoid screwing over, at all costs. Tucker now tops the list, and even without remembering everything, it at least feels right.]
[It's not entirely shocking that he'd be moved. It hadn't taken much the first time. That offer of immediate forgiveness and a second chance several years ago had softened his heart. Finding out people had the patience to care for him after he got hurt is doing it now.]
no subject
This is both unexpected and very sincerely emotional. He's been trying to get better at sincerely emotional, even outside of the moments that make him sincerely, emotionally angry.
What Wash tells him is a weird double hit on that front.
Wash and Carolina don't exactly wax poetic about the Project-based damage they rolled up with. Maybe to each other. Tucker doesn't know. And whether he deserves the privilege or not, like his mom said, you can't unwind the clock. It's no hassle, anyway. How many times has he vented to Wash about dumb leader stuff?
Getting ditched like that sounds about on brand, just based on all the Freelancer-brand bullshit that Tucker has gotten under his belt in the past. Being on brand doesn't make it any less of a dick move.
He never did get that way of doing things. He still doesn't.
If you know where your friend is, whatever condition they're in, how do you not at least try to take them with you, if things are that bad? Even if it doesn't work out?
("Not much of a choice, is it?") ]
I take it back. Your taste in friends actually got way fucking better.
[ Tucker shakes his head. Stretches out enough to clumsily knock his boot into the side of Wash's. It's the most half-assed friendly kick in history. ]
When we get home, I'm totally letting how not-rock-bottom we are go to my head. Time to rest on my laurels.
no subject
[He actually relaxes a little, crossing his arms and sitting back a bit in his seat. It makes it clear how much he's been on edge since waking up in this place. Though he's...had a worse time of that than most.]
They weren't that bad. It...it was a bad situation.
[He shrugs and shakes his head.]
But it's it's still nice to know there was...something else. And also something after this.
[One hand briefly goes to his neck, to the scar from the exit wound there. But then his arms go back to being crossed.]
[He even gives Tucker a slight, almost affectionate kick back. He feels warmth. He can't remember the reasons why but he feels it. And not that Wash even knows it, but he's acting more like himself than he's done since waking up.]
[With a ghost of a grin, he says:]
Just please tell me that being friends with you doesn't mean I have to ever hang out with Tex.
[He knows she rolled in and out of their biz, and maybe with Freelancer gone, she's rolled out for good. But seeing as the last thing he remembers of her is her beating the snot out of him, it seems like her ability to stay away is conditional, based on her current agenda. And at least it's a joke he can make that they'll be on the same page about.]
[He'd managed to avoid that most of the time with Freelancer. She was very private and he'd been very much beneath her notice.]
no subject
And Wash seems... okay. In a haunted, tired, "doesn't remember what it's like to be a person watching dinosaurs fight robots and talking about how awesome it is with his trusted friends" way. He's been really present so far. That'll be something to keep an eye on. Still, could have been worse.
Much worse.
His expression sobers as he tracks the movement of Wash's hand, but as with many things in life, Tucker doesn't mind following a subject change into something that he doesn't mentally replay more than enough on his own time.
Something like that won't happen again. If he's around, he won't let it. That's about all he can do. ]
If Tex is still squirreled away out there somewhere, I don't even wanna know about it. We've got Carolina. Who needs more scary and badass than what she's packing?
[ Rest in piece, Tex. You were scary, then dead, then a scary robot, then scary but kinda cool to hang with while you fully carried Blue Team, then scary and a kidnapper, then dead, then a scary robot again, then dead again(?), then like 100 terrifying robots. Then, uh. Dead. Again. The last time felt a lot more permanent and cathartic.
Maybe that runs in the AI family. ]
no subject
...You've got Carolina?!
[When he'd allied with the Meta and fought Tex, he hadn't even known she was still alive yet.]
[His expression is stricken.]
First of all...she's alive? Second of all, she hangs out with a brain damaged ex-teammate and a bunch of br - uh, sim troopers?
[He almost went there but they apparently are taking care of him so he's trying to be nice. Even though the last thing he remembers is shooting two of them. (Because life is funny like that.)]
Willingly.
Without being under duress.
no subject
[ Ugh, remembering stuff that happened and when it happened. Simmons would have a slideshow put together for this in like, an hour. ]
Very alive. Very with us, very on purpose. Don't get me wrong, she was a huge asshole when she first showed up. Then I guess she had some personal catharsis or we won her over by being really loyal and badass or whatever? So, you know, yeah. She's with Blue team now.
[ Blue just has dibs on all the ex-Freelancers and AIs learning to open their hearts back up to friendship. It's in the paperwork. ]