fuckthemission | 01 | Action/Voice | I am trapped in a storybook I just know it.

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01 | Action/Voice | I am trapped in a storybook I just know it.

[Action]

[Doyle doesn't wake up slowly; his eyes are open in an instant, and he's staring at a normal sky edged with canopy. It's a little awkward by the fact that he's on a bench in the middle of town. When he looks around and sees wings, and then sees some of you in medieval armor, clothes from the 1800's, or non-human creatures altogether? He lays there for a long while, not bothering to inspect why he's here. Because obviously, none of it's real.

Nope.

He laughs dryly at the air, shaking his head, because wow. Clearly the fire didn't kill him. He's just lying somewhere trapped in a horrifying fever dream before the gas gets to him.

Nope, nope, nope. Cannot deal with this right now. Too tired to budge, anyway. He takes the discarded magazine on the backrest and drapes it over his face, sighing as he folds his arms over his chest. For being a horrible hallucination, he sure feels half-naked and cold.]

I'm not here. Not here.

[He'll sit up after a while and eventually just... watch everyone. Especially those who don't look like they're from 21st century earth. No offense to you guys, he's just confused and trying to figure out how sane he is. And he'll either be set straight by someone who knows this place or he'll come to by himself, but he finally gets off his ass and goes to the clothing store. They were nice enough to let him wear his dogtags right when he woke up, at least. Hits up the bar, too, because.... because. When he speaks up to the weird ass journal he's got, he's only very slightly tipsy. Which is good, because you'll get less overwhelmed responses.]

[Voice]

So. It's really true, is it? The whole... 'other world' thing?

[A pause. He sloshes around the beer in his bottle, as his gaze flicks from the bar to the journal.]

I like it. This whole set-up, it's damn fine with me, good and bad points combined; a lot better than being stuck in my world where your own family and friends could turn around and gnaw your nose off. The longer I'm away from viruses and possible crazy apocalyptic bullshit, the better.

Just wish there was some way of checking in on the people who're still left behind. [Yep, 'left behind'. That's what it feels like, okay? Even if America was alright last he checked, there was a Code Red. Who knows what European countries were fucked. Hopefully the spread was contained well enough. Hopefully.]

Right. Anyway, I'm Sergeant Doyle; Rick Doyle. [Wait.] I guess the 'sergeant' part doesn't really matter anymore... But hey. Cheers, anyway.

[Now he's just got to settle mentally. He'll work on it. Until then, he's staying at the bar to get his head on straight and read through the journals.]

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Sally, pleasure to meet you. Though I apologize for the lack of booze in your life.

On the bright side, you're one of the few people who've mentioned how goddamn weird this all is; maybe I'm just too new to get the memo.

I'm new myself. I guess this all proves that people really can get used to anything.

How are you settling in, then?

Sssomething like that.

I have a shirt now; I think that's progress.

Not in your experience?

I'd say so. I was less than chuffed to find out they'd taken my clothes, but at least in my case they were left nearby.

Fortunately for me, I don't really care what I'm wearing as long as it's not a Christmas sweater from '87. I'm mainly getting used to... everything else.

I know - the world itself, or the...prison, if you're being less generous, and then all the different people... Well, it's a lot to get used to. [She was going to try to be helpful, but it sort of got away from her.] ...It seems to sink in rather quick for most people, though.

I think some people are just damn good at getting used to it because they come from.... interesting places. Where I'm from, though? This is all something you'd see in a movie.

Same here, though I don't imagine it'd sell out at the box office. What is your world like, then?

Well. It's 2003 there. It's got all the typical countries you'd find on earth. Same ol', same ol'. Though most people I've spoken to don't know anything about... uh, a viral outbreak in Great Britain.

[:| Yeah.]

You're from a different timeline than that, I hope?

...Well, on my Earth, there's no viral outbreak I know of aside from the AIDS epidemic in Africa and some polio in California from idiots refusing to vaccinate their kids. I'm from London in 2012.

What sort of viral outbreak is it?

[Whelp, time to talk about the virus some more. He's getting better at describing it, probably.]

Yeah, you'd remember if this one happened. They called it the Rage Virus; it basically wiped you down of anything you ever were and replaces you with a mindless angry monster who's sole purpose is to spread it around.

Mainly through mauling and scratching and anything in-between.

...Yeah, I would've remembered that. Definitely never happened. Sounds a bit like a zombie film, actually.

God, I would have loved if it were zombies. The Romero kind? Piece of cake, I'd bet. Then I wouldn't have to practice my cardio so much.

Oh, I hate Russo zombies. I prefer my undead shambling and mindless, not high-functioning. There's just no hope at that point.

Well sheesh, you can't give up that quickly. That's what guns and convenient samurai swords are for. [He's only half-joking, really. :|b]

I didn't say I'd give up, but it's not very hopeful. I think the idea then is to find high ground, a good bunker if you can manage it, and a fire axe. Samurai swords are all well and good, but a fire axe never breaks on you.

[he laughs]

Fire axes and bunkers. You'll make your survival team proud.

I'll tell you a secret. When off-duty coppers aren't talking about football and last night's episode of QI, the possibility of a zombie apocalypse comes up in conversation more often than you'd expect.

I'd say I'm surprised, but I think any normal group of friends and family have at least one zombie discussion, right?

The good ones, at least.

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