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

[fuckthemission]

[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.]

Comments

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

You asked for work, I provided an opportunity. Purgatory is more a state of being, a place to wait out one's sins. I think. It has been a long, long while since I've last practiced any form of religion.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Ah, welcome to the club there. [But then, he's not sure if he disliked religion through his folks or his own personal preference. Hard to say, at this point.] I do like opportunities. You tell me where to work, I'll get to it.

Though I might need extra hands and brains.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

Are not most military men at least a little brainy? [She'd noticed the dog tags, or at least she thinks she saw dog tags. She might be at the hallucinatory stage of sleep deprivation.]

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Hey, hey, just because I understand warfare doesn't mean I'm a construction worker. [He laughs quietly, looking at his bottle. Hm.] From what I've read, I'll be useful someday soon enough. If drafts continue, anyway.

Until then, though, I can always work on other skills.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

I do not think they will be stopping anytime soon. There is conflict just beyond the barrier, from what I understand. It is...disconcerting.

[A shrug, she finishes her bourbon and rubs her face with a palm. So damn tired, and too tired to properly sleep.]

There will always be something to do. I dimly recall someone planning a theater to be built, or something of the sort.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

A theater? Goddamn, why aren't people working on that? One of the best time-wasters in any half-decent world is sitting on your ass and watching a bunch of Hollywood flicks.

[this here is a disappointed head shake, a light smile on the corners of his lips]

People're missing out.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

I do not know. The plans are still around, but I do not know anyone with that level of skill in construction. I suppose a poll could be made to gauge interest.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Not a bad idea. It'd be a good way to unwind and relax. Maybe even learn a little bit about Earth culture, for some people.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

Or if they've film, dance, music, or theatrical productions in their worlds that are not present in our own, educating the rest of us as well. Something so thoroughly recreational may be to the benefit of the community.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Exactly. You got the idea.

And with all the serious stuff going on, people might use a pick-me-up... By the sound of things, shit hits the fan here on a pretty constant basis.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

It is not always shit that hits the fan. Sometimes it's romance. February was...interesting. Roughly half the village was randomly paired up with another member for a week during valentine's day.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

... Knowing my luck with romance, it's probably for the best I missed out.

What possible reason do they have to do that, again?

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

The general consensus has been 'because they can.'

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Seems like that's just a waste of time for them, but then, if they're assholes then I don't doubt anything you put on the table.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

Experimentation for the sake of experimentation. I have seen it done before, in my world.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Yeah... Less rats, more people, now. But I get it.

You're from Earth, right? Got a year?

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

Two thousand and Eleven, just before Two thousand and twelve. Yourself?

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

2003. But I take it our 2003's are either very different, or things turned out for the better after I left.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

...did the world end in some sort of major conflict in 2003 where you are from?

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Not... exactly.

But Great Britain is royally fucked, if anything else. [Thoughtfully:] I'm not sure if the virus'll cross over into Europe, but if we're lucky, the water in-between is a good roadblock.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

...virus. What sort of virus?

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

The worst kind. [Not good enough of an answer? Don't worry, after this drink, he'll expand on that.] It's called the Rage Virus. In short? It wipes out everything a person is and replaces it with nothing but violent tendencies and a shitload of anger management problems. Whoever gets infected wants nothing more to spread the disease, so they go out running to find normal people to sink their teeth into.

Worse off, there's no cure, and once you're infected, you only get a few seconds before you're just like them.

[Of course, he's not from Britain, but. He was stuck there in the second outbreak. He's had to shoot quite a few of those bastards during his unfortunate stay.]

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

That sounds like something out of a horror film.

[For all she knows, it could very well be. But she says nothing of the sort, just stares at Doyle, finishes her bourbon and taps the bar for another. A virus that destroys the sense of self. And she'd thought the innocuous chemical hidden in her case was terrible.]

If it took England...France would be overrun as well.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

... Well. I was trying to keep things positive. There's a chance France is alright; those infected with the virus have no sense of self-preservation. That means they're the shittiest swimmers you'd ever see.

Of course, you're right. There's a chance that France and everything around it could be fucked, too; and if that's the case, you better hope they don't Code Red that whole area out of a mass panic.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

Your optimism and tact is appreciated, but unwarranted. [She is, though, grateful for it. This isn't pleasant to think about, and she may down her next glass of bourbon faster than the first.]

What a wonderful world it is you will return to; though. I must ask: What is an American Solider doing in England?