come_sailaway | [Open] Arrival + Event Catch-All

Entry tags:

[Open] Arrival + Event Catch-All

Who: Number 6 & OPEN
What: First few openers repeated from the TDM + New event prompts ALL TRUTH BECAUSE HE WILL HATE IT (All the TDM prompts except for the first one can be truth flavored, too)
Where: Locations stated in the prompt
When: The first one on the 11th, the rest throughout the month of July
Warnings: He's very upset and might be shouty

Over His dead body [7/11]
Waking up in an unfamiliar place is nothing new to him at this point. Not that it makes him any less boiling with rage over it. And that note only makes the steam rise higher over his head. So, they're doing cruises now? How novel. And using days of the week for names instead of numbers, too. What won't The Village try? He obstinately ignores the suggestion to bring his life vest with him. But the order to go to their mandatory drill is less easy to ignore. When did they gain the ability to paralyze him if he won't go where they say?

He can be found in the halls, not very far from the cabin he woke in (113), frozen in place with his hands balled into fists at his sides absolutely seething with rage. His entire body trembles with the force of it. He knows what he has to do to get unstuck. He'd experimented with taking a few steps forward and back. But will he go where he is directed? No. Never. He'd rather go red-faced in this hallway waiting for their unseen will to control him to run out than take one more step. Even if it takes hours.

Don't Look Down - Elevator prompt from the TDM
After, presumably, someone convinced him to finally just go do the god-forsaken drill, he thought the worst was over. How naive of him. He steps onto the glass elevator and reaches to hit the button. But nothing happens. He tries again. Still nothing. No movement. Turning to the person beside him, whom he has failed to acknowledge up until this point, he asks, "Does this happen often?"

There won't be time for a reply before the elevator quite suddenly lurches up one floor, and then drops. His stomach rises into his throat and he desperately puts his hands out to grip the side, fingers squeaking on the slippery glass, as they careen down, down, down!

Then stop.

He's thrown from his feet, landing hard on his side with a grunt. But rather than worry after himself, he's turning to catch sight of his unwitting partner on this fun-house ride, asking urgently, "Are you all right?"

Since When Did the Food Fight Back? - Mikabo prompt from the TDM
"What in blazes?" he exclaims as a knife goes soaring past him, followed quickly by a roll of sushi and the whole plate too.

He turns in shock to see the conveyor belt, seemingly with a mind of its own, winding up for another throw.

"Who is running this place?"

The truth will set you free?
Well, how was he supposed to know not to drink the water? Who would be stupid enough to poison the finite water supply on a cruise ship? After splashing some on his face in the morning to wash and shave himself, and then using it to brush his teeth like any decent hygienic person, he goes about his day none-the-wiser to the sudden change that's taken place.

His newly formed routine is to prowl the ship deck first thing in the morning (and last thing at night), scowling while he checks the waves and sky for any hint of a clue about where they could be. He checks the life boats, too, as if paranoid they might vanish without warning. It's unfortunate for him that it's been raining so much, only compounding the problematic effects of the water.

Once he's done his lap around the deck, he will work his way down level by level. He's memorizing the lay of thing, taking note of cabin numbers and all the many and varied amenities. It's almost staggering how many venues there are, and all of them host technology he'd never even dreamed of.

For instance, the arcade full of flashy computer games has him mesmerized. He stands in front of a cabinet, hand on the joystick while utterly transfixed. He doesn't make it past the opening stage of the game, but he keeps trying, getting visibly more upset each time the death screen animation plays. Until, finally, he shouts suddenly, "what's this all about?!"

He's keeping that angry-old-man-shouts-at-technology vibe with him through the rest of his explorations. Nothing on this ship makes any sense. The music is different. The decorations are all unfamiliar. If he believed in such things, he'd think he got abducted by aliens. Maybe he shouldn't rule it out.

To add insult to injury, his assigned dining time of "6:66 PM" feels like a particularly stinging slap in the face. Surely that was done on purpose to mock him. And so, when he sits down at his assigned seat, he is looking incredibly sour. He would shout at their servers, if he could see them. Instead, he has no recourse but to sit there, elbows on the table like a petulant child, seething quietly while the meal is served. And to quench that rage, he drinks more water, of course. Looks like mealtime chatter might be about to get a lot more interesting, or rage inducing. Probably that last one.

Good thing he doesn't have a roommate.
Speaking of rage, Number 6 is in one now. An hour after a conversation with someone, he somehow sobers-up and realizes that what he actually said doesn't match what he thought he said. AT ALL. And he is livid.

A chair goes flying into the hallway, crashing against the wall opposite Room 113. A glass goes soaring out after, smashing in rainfall of shattered shards.

If anyone is brave enough to stick their head through the open door after all that, they will find him in the process of attempting to upend his bunk. And there will be pieces of his furniture and personal effect thrown all around the room. It looks like a hurricane came through.

If he catches sight of any onlookers he will shout, "What do you want!" His piercing blue eyes narrowed down to slits as he locks his gaze on them. Taking one step more might feel like stepping on your own grave. Enter at your own risk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah." Which is a relief that he doesn't have to explain where he's from in more detail. Or explain what trees are like he has before.

"Uh... because I was there when it happened?" He's not really sure how to answer that. How do you know you're dead? He just does. "We were trying to outrun a nuclear blast in a Jeep, which didn't fucking work because of course it didn't. And the shockwave started knocking shit down. A tree fell on the Jeep. And if I didn't die from the tree crushing me, I was unconscious and would have died from the forest being on fire, or nuclear radiation, or the Jeep exploding. But I know it was the tree cuz I've got a buddy here who's from twenty years later than me. I didn't make it."

"Nuclear?" Sir, you now have his full attention. "Who bombed the United States?" That's a nightmare scenario he can barely stand to consider. Coming from the Cold War era, one could say the prospect of that very thing happening was a very real weight on everyone's shoulders no matter what developed nation they were in. Now he wants to talk to this other friend too. What is the aftermath like twenty years later?

He no longer questions how Pratt could know his death was certain. He might be fortunate the tree finished him before the blast did. Belatedly, he realizes he should perhaps show a little sympathy. "I'm sorry. That must be a difficult thing to live with here."

Pratt shakes his head, "I dunno. Where I live is really remote and we got cut off from a lot of communications a few months before I died. So we could have been full on invaded by North Korea and I wouldn't have known."

Which is kind of a scary thought. At the time he hadn't even considered what was going on in the rest of the world or even the state because of the shit going down right there.

"We had our own shit going on. A bunch of doomsday preppers and this... cult. All started killing each other. The US Marshall who came out to just do a prelim arrest got killed. There was so much going on and we couldn't get any outside help. But maybe they were dealing with that... like... can't imagine they would nuke Montana first. And not some major city."

"A few months? And you were tasked with handling something like that without any support?" He sounds genuinely appalled. This, coming from a one-man-army type who usually charges into danger head-first and alone.

"I'm truly sorry you and your colleagues were put in such a predicament. I have what you could call limited experience with enforcement and I cannot imagine being able to successfully manage a situation like the one you describe." Whether that at all lessens the sting of having died, who can say, but Number 6 isn't about to accuse Pratt of cowardice nor dereliction of his duty based on what he's heard.

"Yeah, it took forever to get the US Marshall involved and even then he spent the whole time not listening to us about how serious shit was. Thought we were like.. backwoods idiots who couldn't handle it." He snorts, looking down at his now empty plate. "He found out real fast we weren't lying."

And then a glance back up at Number 6, he's not big on eye contact, mostly looking down, but that sounded like some legit sympathy and he's not used to that. Trying to see if that was some sort of insult but delivered real dryly. It does seem genuine though, "Thanks. I.. want to blame us somehow. But I spent a long time thinking about what we could have done differently and it all comes back to us not knowing how bad it would get. We couldn't have known. The only way to stop it would have been to kill someone in cold blood before he did anything serious. Because after that it was too late, everything was set in motion."

"I understand your frustration completely." Hadn't he, only just recently, tried to convince the men he used to serve with of the existence of The Village seemingly to no avail? True, his story was a more far-fetched one but, still, one hopes the word of a fellow comrade would mean something more?

"How could you have known? And to make a decision like that, to kill when you had no justification for it, that would have been beyond the pale. Knowing what you know now doesn't change that fact. Could you have lived with such an action?"

"Knowing what I know now, yeah. But then? No. I would have been the monster first." He sighs, there's really no sense in dwelling on what could have been, or what they should have done. After all it's far too late to change anything. But he can't help it, that's just human nature.

"Weird being here now, have way too much time to think about stuff like that." He huffs, going back to his food, because he doesn't want to be a depression black hole the way Tammy said he was back home. "What about you? Where're you from?"

"Mmhm," Number 6 agrees with that sentiment of having too much time to think of past regrets. "It's enough to drive a man to vices." Was that possibly a dig at the Pratt's quite obvious preoccupation with food? Perhaps mildly, but it could just as easily be a dig at his own growing desire to have a gin in his hand at all times.

"London, in what I suspect might be the past to you. It was 1967 when I left."

"Oh. yeah. I'm from 2018. Though I guess that's not that long ago compared to some people I've met who are from like the 1700's. At least you know what electricity is."

And what a helicopter is, which has been rough for this helicopter pilot to explain.

"Ever been on a cruise before? Because uh.. I haven't and this is all fucking weird to me even without the ghosts."

"Yes. There is that." It doesn't keep him from feeling utterly lost at the leaps of technology he's witnessed here. Computers used to take up entire rooms, now they are the size of a pocket calculator.

But Pratt might be encourage to discover some day that Number 6 is also accomplished at piloting, jets, planes, and helicopters all.

"I have, though never for pleasure. Only for work. The accommodations, I must say, seem to have fallen in more modern times. For how large this ship is, the cabins themselves seem rather small, especially for two occupants."

"Right? Also there's more than enough rooms for us to have our own, but they keep putting people together. I feel super bad, me and my roommate are constantly in each other's way. And probably wouldn't be as bad if there were two beds instead of a bed an a couch." Which had been a source of contention between the two of them since he wanted to give her the bed and she insisted he had been there first and his manly chivalry is offended every night that she sleeps on the couchbed.

"Probably just to make it so we don't all hole up in our rooms forever. There's someone there to get away from."

"I did wonder if all the rooms were like that. Foolishly, I hoped a second bed might appear when a new roommate does." Well. He's certainly going to call dibs on the bed if and when he gets stuck with another person.

"You might be right. I can't imagine staying in such a cramped space with another person for so long. Who is your roommate, if I may ask?"

Enjoy the solitude while it lasts. "I kinda did too. Or that the room would get bigger? Which sounds stupid, but it wouldn't surprise me."

Who knows what would happen here honestly. He can't predict.

"Oh uh, Caitlyn. Another police officer. I guess it puts similar people together or something."

"It sounds considerably less foolish when the rest of the strange things that occur onboard here are taken into account." Which is to say, he had hoped for the same thing.

"I don't think I've had the chance to meet her yet. I suppose I can see some benefit to putting similar people together but... I'm surprised to hear the living situations are coed. That hardly seems tolerable."

He rolls his eyes, you guys are such prudes. "She wasn't stoked about it either because she thought people would gossip or something? And literally no one has noticed."

Well no one but this guy anyway.

"The thing that sucks is I was there first so she won't take the bed and sleeps on the pullout couch? And like.. she can have the bed. Makes me feel like a dick."

"I worry less about the gossip and more about keeping decency intact." If he ends up with a woman sharing his room, he's going to have to find himself a changing screen to hide behind.

"Mm. I see your dilemma. I couldn't, in good conscience, keep the bed for myself in that situation either. She must be a stubborn one."

"Keeping...decency." It's taking a while for him to figure out what that means, especially since his partner on the police force back home is a woman and she had no qualms about changing in front of him in the locker room.

"Yeah she was insistent, and I didn't want to like... actually fight her. That seemed somehow more fucked up. If she really wants the couch-bed she can stay there. But I sleep weird hours anyway so we could actually share the one bed and never see each other. The ghosts change the sheets so.." He shrugs. He's certain she wouldn't agree to that, but it's an option.

It doesn't help that Number 6 came up in a time period where they weren't even bold enough to show married couples sleeping in the same bed on television. Things were finally getting better in the last ten years but some biases take a while to die.

"I don't think fighting your roommate physically would be a good resolution to it, no." He can't help a little chuckle just picturing it. Imagine, of all the things to throw a fist over?

"Wait a minute. The ghosts do the house keeping too? Is that how everything gets replaced if it's broken?" Asking for... reasons.

"Haven't tested it, but pretty sure she can kick my ass. She's got that quiet high society kind of feel about her where she could probably dislocate my shoulder in two hits or something." It's the quiet, reserved ones you have to worry about.

"I'm not a hundred percent on that, but that's what people have said. That they clean up after us and make the beds. When things are broken something fixes it. I'd guess it's them unless it's just... doing it magically? I dunno. Magic isn't a thing where I'm from so I've got no clue how it works."

"I think I'm going to have to try and meet this extraordinary woman." She sounds like an interesting character, and maybe a potential sparring partner.

"Magic was relegated to card tricks and illusions where I came from, as well. But, as much as I would like to deny its existence even now, it's all a little too much to say it's only coincidental. And the ghosts, too. So much I took for granted..."

"Her name's Caitlyn."

Pratt leans back in his chair, sipping his drink, "The ghosts make me antsy, don't like not being able to talk to them. I sorta hate it because I don't understand why or how it works or if I can fuck it up and make it stop working. One day wake up and they somehow forgot my room existed and it's a mess forever because I accidentally did something wrong."

"Thank you. I'll remember." A name should be enough for him to track her down.

"I understand the frustration, but I don't think you should put too much of that responsibility on yourself. If something like that happens, I'd be more inclined to think it was the Captain being unfair than any justified punishment. After all, we were brought here unwillingly. How are we meant to be held responsible for any of our actions under duress?"

"I don't expect someone holding me captive to play fair. That's... never happened. So like yeah, I kinda think I'll be held responsible?" He's used to that, having his face rubbed in every transgression, every failure, flaws held up to the light for all to see.

"But I also haven't met the Captain so who knows, maybe he's not like that?"

Number 6's expression draws in, suddenly reflective. Never happened before implies too much experience with being a captive. It's a familiar position to be in, which makes Number 6 wonder if it's something he should address or leave lie.

"You're right that we shouldn't expect fair play. But we must also be firm in placing the blame on the right culprit. The trouble comes if we start to believe it ourselves, that we are responsible." He says it with such conviction Pratt might easily be able to deduce that he, too, is speaking from experience.

"I do hope to one day see the Captain for myself to make a better estimation of the man. But I am not going to easily excuse his bringing me here to serve as a toy or as fuel for his twisted purposes."

"Yeah, that's how they get you. Start thinking you deserve it, that they're right, start believing them and then they've got you. You'll do whatever they want because you think they know better or something." He frowns, because boy does that sound familiar.

"Someone must have tried to kill him by now, I just don't know who. Maybe they're not even here anymore if they did. I just can't imagine this many people with weapons and all the folks with combat training and no one tried to put a bullet in him."

[Open] Arrival + Event Catch-All

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you good to wind this one down?

Sounds good!

TY! End~