sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #3

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!tdm

TEST DRIVE MEME #3

1. you're the only one you owe (GUEST STARRING: selenokinesis and creepyoldguy)

[you wake up.

it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.

the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:

Dear Passengers(s),

You'll be unable to leave your cabin until you read this note. Congratulations on making it past the first step. Keep reading if you wish, as I have information to share with you, as a fellow passenger stuck aboard this ship. Or don't continue reading, and burn the note. I'm not particularly invested either way, especially if you choose to throw away valuable warnings.

Watch out for the Captain.

Be cautious what you sign up for.

If you die, you'll come back to life eventually, though I would recommend you try not to die.

Your life is the Captain's plaything.

Do not think for one moment that someone isn't watching you.

With that aside, I am now contractually obligated to tell you the following: You will find a life jacket within your cabin's closet, and you are required to bring it with you to your assigned muster station on deck one. A companion and I will take you through the drill. If you cannot find us, look for a tall male with white hair and blue eyes and a friendly-looking man with unkept brown hair and a winning smile.

Respectfully,
Moon Master Ebalon

you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.

you see two people standing at the front of the crowd: an exhausted-looking man with white hair who seems rather displeased that he's been roped into this, and a man with a wide grin, bright green tips on his hair, and amber eyes. the latter is waving cheerfully, having an armful of leis. he quite happily puts them around people’s necks and while they’re distracted, attempts to dip them into a kiss.

as he’s basically a walking corpse, and smells like one to boot, it’s not exactly hitting the jackpot. but, he does at least listen to the word “NO”.

the tired-seeming man ignores this and announces over the drone of chattering passengers like yourself,]

Welcome to the Serena Eterna. Do try to enjoy your stay here; it is rather permanent in nature, huhu.

[and from next to his companion, the… er, overly-affectionate man who sounds as though he smokes ten packs a day rasps,]

You’re all doomed!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.

after the duo complete the drill, you'll find that your legs suddenly obey your command, for what that's worth.

welcome aboard, passenger. we hope you enjoy your stay.]

2. one by one they'll do you in

[it starts, as most things do, with a table lamp. floating down a hallway, or the length of the promenade. ambling at a distinct clip: one-two-three-KICK, one-two-three-KICK.

and that's... not immediately concerning. after all, things float around here all the time; usually plates and drinks, but maybe the shades want to mix it up a bit. the lamp is alone for about a half hour before it is joined by others. a pillow. some knickknack from the ship store. Friday's clipboard. an empty vodka bottle. all have lined up, one in front of the other, and lead a procession snaking around the ship, growing with each passing hour. anyone familiar with the concept would begin to recognize it as a massive conga line.

there is a small chance you will want to join of your own free will. most likely, you will not want that. this does not matter: something compels you, like pins and needles in your feet, to join the dance. and once you have joined in... your body fights your mind on the subject, even as it grows more and more tired.

you pass by a familiar face. they could help pull you out. or you could pull them in.]

3. the price of vice foretold

[the scent of citrus and coconut rum hangs heavy in the air. there is a new storefront on the promenade, tucked between Sand Dollars and John's in a place where you are very certain there was not enough space to tuck a store before.

the clothes for sale are... a lot. like, a lot a lot. but, there are quite a lot of choices, though they do seem to repeat a little, once you've gone in far enough. in fact, even if you actively attempt to find it, you can't seem to find the back of the store. you can see a wall, sure, but it never seems to get any closer, even as you walk towards it.

be forewarned: the infinite tommy bahama does not have food or water.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[In this rare instance Pratt hadn't even been the instigator! But that's beside the point and he doesn't really want to dwell on the 'before times'. He's not that person anymore. He's barely a Deputy now, no matter what his uniform proclaims.

That's for later self reflection; right now is the time for mashed potatoes. He sits across from Sharky with a full plate of everything in the buffet that isn't meat - he never wants to see meat chunks ever again. He also filled one of the fountain soda cups with more coffee than the human heart should be exposed to.

This is the best day he's had in a while. Granted the bar for good days for Pratt is buried twenty miles deep in the ground, but still.]

Okay. Alright, explain the monkey paw shit. We can't die? Or we can but we come back?

[Holy shit he has not had real food in months and this is fucking fantastic. Everything is salty and greasy and covered in butter and he's absolutely in heaven.]

And the food stays? Damn. Who the fuck cares if we die then.

[DEFINITELY going to get madly emotional later over this, but for now it's just like, good to see the dude eating. The lack of meat, uh, isn't surprising, to be honest, and Sharky just tries to file that away in case he needs to remember it for later. No meat, lots of coffee, extra mash. Easy.]

Okay, first of all? Totally with you on the food front, but uhhh... people are kinda sensitive about it around here. But basically, like... the guy in charge can put people back together. I... really hate using the M-word, but it's like, magic and shit. [ugh magic, who the fuck cares and/or wants to deal with that shit?] So if someone does get killed, they usually just come back the next day. But -- and I'm serious, here, dude -- there are a lot of really chill, cool people on this ship and nobody so far has tried to murder me even once. And you know how fuckin' annoying I can be.

[In about four hours he's going to have serious regrets about how much and how quickly he's eating. But that is a problem for future Pratt and fuck that guy.]

Not even once?

[Okay now you're definitely a lying hallucination Sharky. Even Pratt has wanted to throttle him, especially drunk in a holding cell screaming disco songs at the top of his lungs horribly out of tune.]

I wanna talk shit about the magic part but... How the fuck does Bliss work? I fed wolves that understood human speech. Like that's not natural.

[Maybe it's science, he doesn't know - he got a C in chemistry.]

So the downsides are being stuck here and sometimes people die and come back? That's it? No Project at Eden's Gate? No eating our friends? No running Trials?

[This is getting better by the minute.]

[Maybe the people here just appreciate his drunken antics better than his fellow compatriots in the drunk tank!]

Yeah, there's only so much I can blame on hallucinogens and methamphetamines before we start gettin' into straight-up mysticism. [Because you can only write off Faith's uncanny abilities for so long.

And you can only avoid this conversation for so long before you gotta own up to the whole murder game aspect of things.]

So, yeah, like. No cultists, no prophet, no cannibalism, no trials. I mean, okay, the excursion sign-up sheets are hella vague and the last one wound up being a sort of... Battle Royale type deal? But it's like. Uhhh. Totally... optional?

[He is distantly aware that there are more caveats to the whole shindig, but he doesn't know enough of the details to be totally reliable. Also, uh, he really wants to find a way to explain it that doesn't make it sound just like the Eden's Gate shit, because it isn't. They're not getting mindfucked into oblivion, for one thing.]

[Jacob's ability to make people hallucinate exactly what he wanted them to can't really be explained by drugs either. Maybe with a few years removed between being in Jacob's custody Pratt could rationally think about what the hell was actually going on, but he's definitely not at that point yet. He's only been 'free' for a week at most.

And then promptly died while screaming out prayers so - things sure didn't get much better for him.

But this... this place is good. He's been here twenty minutes so it could still turn into a nightmare, but right now? This is fucking fantastic.]

The movie with the schoolkids that all killed each other? Okay but like.. it was optional? I can just.. stay here and not do that?

[He's finally stopped shoveling food into his face like a starving wolverine, and is sitting there nursing his coffee. Almost looking like a normal person, if not for his mannerisms that are just a little off. Slightly too quick or too slow, like he's not used to the speed or gravity of reality.

And so long as no one looks at his eyes he might be able to pretend to be okay for at least three minutes.]

But no one tried you kill you right? I could stay here. Hide.

[Like a coward.]

Not hiding just.. tactically.. biding my time.

Technically, I didn't get here until after that happened, but, uh, no. Everyone who was, like, on the ship and not on the excursion got to just stay here, murder-free.

[He's not going to mention the whole television thing, because he, uh. Does Not Want To. But also, uhhhhhhhh... not a fan of the "biding my time" talk at all. He really doesn't wanna have to make up fliers...]

Most, uh. Most of the people I've met have been like. Kids. Teenagers and shit. And most of 'em didn't come from universes with nuclear apocalypses. You're, uh... you're the first person here that's known what the fuck I'm talking about with the Collapse and the Peggies and shit.

Different universes? Thats.. a thing?

Or are you saying the apocalypse only happened in Montana? Because I could sorta believe that too.

[He definitely does not want to hear about anything being broadcast anywhere! Ever! In fact when he finds out theres a PA system he will have a nuclear meltdown of his own.

But for now he will remain in ignorance and enjoy his coffee with the hallucination of Sharky.]

Boat of infinite food, battle royale, and teenagers.

I don't get it.

Yeah, like, a full-on multiverse situation. One kid I talked to had a... similar apocalypse-type deal, but there were like, spaceships and shit involved. And I met a robot! [he's forgotten the right word but assumes it will never be a problem for him or Pratt] Also -- [a vampire, but he... isn't sure he's supposed to announce that to the world so] -- like, pirates? The Jack Sparrow kind, not the Somali kind.

[And, you know what?] None of it makes any goddamn sense, dude, but at least everyone here agrees that it doesn't make sense. We're all, like, on the same team, mostly.

Was this Zip in disguise? Spaceships and robots sound right up his alley.

Zombies and ninjas too?

[There's just a hint that Pratt isn't taking this as seriously as he should. Because he is fully convinced this is some sort of hallucination and he's going to wake up to Jacob yelling at him that he's been in a coma because Faith overdosed him on a new strain of Bliss.

All of it was fake, the Wolf Den, the jeep, this ship. He's probably in the infirmary after starving away in that chair because Jacob miscalculated the exact moment where that would become fatal and now Pratt is hooked up to a feeding tube and that's somehow going to Pratt's fault.]

So what am I supposed to do here? Just.. eat and.. sleep.. and... like... [What's a normal thing people do? Barricade doors? Jump at shadows? Murder people?] look at the ocean?

[Yeah, okay. He's totally getting written off. Sharky's been through the disbelieving cop bullshit before, so he knows what he's seeing. He can't even really blame Pratt, because this whole thing is fucking insane, and Sharky still sometimes thinks it might be Hell or the afterlife or some weird LOST situation.

But you know what? Sharky is officially the adult here. He's actually older than Pratt, now, old enough to be his fuckin' dad, practically (not really), and he's gotta act like the mature one.]

I dunno, man, maybe! I'm not gonna write anythin' off. It's not my problem if you don't believe me. As for what you do... I mean... yeah? Kinda? Like, there's something about how the ship feeds off us or something, but I don't know the details. You'd have to ask around. I mean, dead or not, I figure I'm here, I'm just gonna roll with it. You can do you, I guess. So long as that doesn't include Mr. Smiley over there. [Yes, that's the name of the shovel, obviously.]

[In Pratt's defense this has a lot more depth than I swear officer those fireworks weren't mine or maybe even, I don't know what meth is where did that come from?.]

Okay okay. Sorry. It's just.. kind of. You know. A lot of info. At once. And I'm all messed up which I know everyone knows by the way. Wheaty kept trying to play dumb but I'm not that far gone out of reality, I know everyone knows.

[And he doesn't just mean the confession he had to read, or the video of him getting strapped to the chair. The other stuff. The cannibalism and the brainwashing and whatever Rook told them about what Pratt did. He's not going to deny any of it.]

We're not naming the shovel either.

Yeah, uh. I know you know, but it's like... okay? Not okay okay, but like. It's chill, I feel you. Everyone came outta the bunkers a little nutty, dude, I'm not gonna judge.

[He and Hurk did their whole Mad Max thing, after all, and plenty of bunker nuts became just plain old nuts after years spent in isolation. Who doesn't get a little jittery in wide-open spaces full of strangers these days?

Sure, not everyone came out with a taste for human flesh and a propensity to flip out any time the Platters play, but hey. That's just Pratt's special blend of fucked-up.]

You mean you haven't already? Dude, I've been personifying that thing since you nearly whacked me with it.

Alright. Good. That's good.

[Solidarity in the insanity or something. He's also managed to not flip out for like fourty-five minutes or something now which is probably a new record for him.]

No. I'm trying to pretend I'm not completely crazy. I don't want to start talking to it.

[Even though he has it propped up against the table like it's sitting there with them. Just a cheerfully silent third wheel.]

I named all the wolves. I probably would have started naming the guns if I didn't get out of there. Not gonna keep that up, not when I'm somewhere with food and no Jacob.

[A pause.]

Right? No Jacob?

[...]

I guess that makes sense... [He gives Mr. Smiley an apologetic look. Sorry, buddy, guess you're not getting personified today.]

Right, no Jacob. You'll be happy to know that guy did not get the cool haunted cruise ship treatment. Neither did John, Joseph or Faith. No cult, no Bliss, no Angels -- it's... just us, but y'know. Could be worse!

[Sharky's happy to not consider the fact that if Pratt showed up, anyone else could do the same. It'd be bad luck to think about it!]

[That is one hell of a sigh of relief.]

Thank fuck for that.

[Okay maybe this isn't a hallucination. Or at least not one of those intentional Bliss ones because if it was this would be the point where Jacob would storm in and very calmly shoot Pratt at point blank range somewhere in the abdomen where it would hurt like he was dying but not actually be fatal.

Which would be an exceptionally dick move right now when Pratt is likely to just leak recently eaten peas and carrots all over the floor.]

It could always be worse. But that's not bad. Not bad at all.

[Granted he and Sharky aren't exactly friends, what with the public indecency, arson, and inebriation that Pratt had to keep arresting him for. But right now Sharky's positive attitude is exactly what he needs. Anyone else probably would have been murdered already.

Well maybe not Grace. Who would have shot him first. But anyone else.]

I don't even know what to do with myself if I can do whatever I want. Don't even know who I am anymore. Though I guess it doesn't matter much here.

[That's both freeing and absolutely terrifying.]

[Sharky figures it'll take a couple of days before Pratt starts taking things at face value. Longer, probably, because he's a cop, and that makes him a naturally suspicious kinda dude. But that's cool. Everyone gets weird about this shit at first.]

Maybe that's what you need, man. Don't worry so much about who you are and just, like... enjoy existing for a minute? [Because he knows that was... not really a priority or possibility after Jacob got ahold of him. Pratt went from a sorta dickish but relatively level-headed dude to a full-on feral animal for a while there. And, shit. Jacob broadcasted that goddamn chair everywhere. Seventeen years might've dulled the memory, but he's never gonna forget it.]

[Once he has a full nights uninterrupted sleep and wakes up still here, he'll be a lot more believing. Right now coming fresh off the cult bullshit, and dying in a car crash, he's just not accepting of much of anything.

Other than how much he needed this food.]

You make it sound easy Sharky. It's not that easy. I mean I'll try. I gotta try since I'm here and have a chance to have a ... new start I guess. But...

[He sighs, staring down into his now empty Big Gulp coffee cup. It may have been seventeen years for Sharky but that was only weeks ago for Pratt. And he knows, deep inside, he's never really going to be okay again.]

Yeah, I'll give it a try.

[And fail. Because you're weak. You've always been weak.]

[Wince] Maybe a few tries if I need to.

Nah, it's definitely one of those, uh, easier said than done things, for sure. And, like, if you can't figure it out... that's okay, too? 'Cos, uh. I... am here for you, and am gonna be like, as semi-decent a support system as I can manage with my brain fried from a decade of ethanol abuse. [Thumbs up???] Sound good? Cool? Not totally fuckin' lame and clingy?

[Somebody went to like, three AA meetings and had one sponsor he ghosted after a month, and apparently he's decided to appropriate that experience here!]

[This is the closest to a smile that Pratt has had since Joseph showed up years ago.]

It's pretty lame and clingy. But it's appreciated man. If I hadn't died, and the world didn't blow up afterwards, no one else would have even tried. So like... thanks. I mean it.

[He would have gotten a bullet to the head pretty quickly. But maybe they would have had to eat him so at least he'd feel useful?]

Holy shit Sharky did you actually make bathtub booze in a bunker? Out of what??

[Sharky laughs, relieved and pleased and juuuust a little embarrassed, but like, the good kind of embarrassed.]

For sure, man. And, uhhhh, obviously I brewed my own liquor! Hurk and I sorta went through our standard supplies quicker than we thought, and he got real fuckin' weird when he was sober, sooo... [Shrug!] Toilet wine, man. It was the only thing that kept Hurk from like, probably killin' himself or somethin'.

[But that's a bummer. What's not a bummer is the follow-up:] After we came topside, though, we repurposed an oil distillery and tried making our own moonshine. It, uh. It was mostly ethanol, though. Like, we could power our ATVs off it. [But he's weirdly proud of it anyway? Hey, the Boshaw-Drubman distillery probably got a lot of people through some shitty times. It also probably accidentally murdered a few people, but like, you know... buyer beware and shit.]

I.. I'm not sure I've ever seen Hurk fully sober? I can't even imagine that.

[Damn, his mind has taken a beating but even before his head was full of peach-flavored paste instead of a brain he's not sure he could imagine Hurk sober. Hurk.. paying his taxes? Making himself a balanced breakfast? Pratt might break even further thinking about it too long.]

That's something though. You guys are entrepreneurs or whatever Xander was always saying his weird smoothie pyramid scheme was. Probably oughta argue that's dual purpose so worth more. Like body wash that's also shampoo and conditioner.

Eugh, yeah, man... it was not pretty. [He could do with never seeing Hurk that upset again. Even if that means he never sees Hurk again, period. The dude's got his family, now! That's cool for him. Sharky has got -- well, a lot of fuckin' freedom, which is more than he could ever say about living in Montana.]

See, you fuckin' get it, man! That's exactly what we tried to do. But most people we traded with didn't bother drinking it, so of course, they didn't want to give us extra rations or ammo or whatever. Totally fuckin' lame, T-B-H. I mean, it was obviously the right move on their end, but still. What's life without a little party liquor? [Boshaw-Drubman Brewing Co's finest achievement is gasoline with a moonshine label slapped on it and he couldn't be prouder.]

[Though now that he thinks about it, he's not sure he's seen Sharky fully sober either. But he is not going to mention that. Especially here. Pratt is going to eat his weight in french fries, Sharky can drink as many mai tais as he wants.]

Drinking til you go blind in the apocalypse probably isn't the smartest move. Though maybe you wouldn't even realize if you were drunk enough.

Who else made it? Hudson? Rook? Grace?

[He has no idea that asking about Dep is uh... not ideal.]

[Don't worry, he has it on good authority that alcoholism skips a generation. You see, he saw it on TV once.

His expression kind of... crumples, a little, at the names Pratt picks out first. It's mostly bad news, and Sharky really would love to have like, something actually nice to share for once. Too bad the Collapse really doesn't do good news.]

Uh... well, Grace for sure. She, uh, sorta lost her sight a couple years ago, but she's still a fuckin' crack shot and, let me be honest, still a total hottie. [:) because she isn't here to hear and yell at him!] Ummm. Nick and Kim made it! With their kid, even, Carmina? She's so fuckin' cool, man. Like, Nick's kind of a tool or whatever but at least Kim knows what the fuck she's doing raising kids. And Pastor Jerome, he's still around. A little nuts, but like I said, ain't we all?

[The list is... not long. Auntie A and Xander went to Cuba years ago, so he doesn't know what they're about. And even though others made it through the Collapse, they definitely didn't make it to the end of Sharky's stay in that world. Wade got eaten by bears, Hurk Sr. walked out into the wasteland, fuckin' Rook...]

I guess some people went really nuts, though. I wouldn't say they made it, even if they're, like, physically still there, y'know?

Wherever Grace is right now, she heard that, and is going to kick you in tender places when you see her again.

[He doesn't even realize at first that Sharky is deflecting by telling him about people he didn't ask about.]

That's good about Nick and Kim, they didn't deserve any of the shit they went through. Just trying to live their lives and all this going on.

[Huh, weird that the other two he asked about are being met with silence. Like they probably died in the Jeep crash too but uh...]

Joseph made it didn't he?

[He can just.. feel that in his bones. Knows that of everyone it would be Joseph fucking Seed who would survive the Collapse. Because of course.]

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