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]

[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?

[Action] 1/2

[fuckthemission]

[... Where do I even begin.]

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

['Return to'. He has his doubts about that, ma'am.

But. A simplified blanket reply? Perfect.]

Since there was basically nothing left of British troops, we were brought in by NATO to patrol District 1 the place that was scrubbed squeaky clean and rebuilt for surviving Brits to live in. It was after the first outbreak, when all of the infected finally died from starvation.

As you can hear, things got out of control. There was a breach inside the medical facility. Whatever went wrong, it caused an district-wide infection and it was all compromised.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

The breach is always in the medical facility. Testing the virus, yes? Either attempting to create a cure or trying to improve it for use as a biological weapon.

[She sighs and massages her face with a hand.]

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Reports were scarce to come by... They don't tell the soldiers much of anything, to be honest.

[He rubs his chin, lost in thought. He had a few little theories bouncing around in his head, now that he had time to think about all the pieces.]

One theory is the simple 'broken viral' or 'careless scientist'.

But also... they found a woman outside of the safety zone who was infected with the virus, and yet had an immunity in her genes that made her safe from turning. I think... it's possible she somehow infected someone inside the facility.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

If they were trying to replicate her immunity? That is quite likely, especially in conjunction with the first two possibilities. My guess would be all three. But...there is nothing to be done about it. Not here. I apologize for bringing it up.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Nah, it's alright. I know it's pretty hopeless to talk about it.

But still, it is what it is, and it's not exactly like I can go back. Talking about it isn't that big of a deal anymore.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

People leave, sometimes. A few have been here years. A few vanish two or three days after they arrive. It is...somewhat random, I think. Though they may have a feeling that something is to happen. Because some have left letters. You do not have time to write letters if you aren't made aware you'll be leaving.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

That's not what...

[He pauses. He's definitely dead, right? The guide claims dead people can be here. He shakes his head, looking back at the bar. No use bothering anyone with that kind of sad detail. He'd rather if he disappeared, people would think it a good thing. Or at least a neutral thing.

Sad goodbyes are not his forte.]

I'm not big on letters; haven't written to anyone since I was pretty young. Most people think army guys are all over that kind of thing, but I was pretty bad at keeping up with mine.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

...ah. [She sighs and sips her bourbon, contemplating that aborted comment. Dead, then. Or close to it. After a moment she turns to him with a half smile.]

Join the club. We have jackets and badges. [For a second time she tips her glass to let it clink against his beer bottle.] Make the most of your time here then, yes? For it is all you have now.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

... Right. Make the most of it. [He barely tips his bottle in return, but he does nonetheless. He's tired and is practically drowning in information and personal thoughts.] I'll do my best. Wouldn't want to disappoint the other club members.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

The penalty for disappointing members is paying for the next round. Here? It is not so bad a penalty.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

It's one I can definitely accept.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

Good. Because we? We tend to drink a little more than the average Lucetian.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Ohooo. Excuse me, ma'am. Are you implying that I drink a lot? [He points at her in mock indignation, taking a drink of his scotch.] Because that is a ridiculous notion.

[Read: Let's drink the entire bar gone during our stay in Luceti.

Or something to that effect. You down?]

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

You are part of the club. It is a requirement, and if you do not? It is a rite of passage. [She smirks and finishes her drink, tapping the bar for another. Oh yes. She was down.] And initiation? Starts now.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Well damn, that's a smidge intimidating. You're not going to pilfer through my pockets for goods after I'm down and out, are you? Because I got nothin'. [... He is fine with liver-punching alcohol into his system..]

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

No one here has anything of worth, Rick. Only our skills, our health, and our liquor.

[That does, however, remind her of something.] I've neglected to introduce myself, and for that I apologize.

[She offers her hand.] Dr. Adele LeBlanc.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Doctor. It's a pleasure. [He offers a healthy handshake, smiling.] If liquor is one of my three things, I'd better hone it even better than usual, then.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

As I am drinking, I am off duty. Adele will suffice. [Doyle's hand is shaken in turn her grip strong for someone with such small hands.] It is plentiful, and it is free; which is a boon because here we are in dire need of it more often than not.

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

Adele then. We'll drink just enough so the good doctor doesn't have to work on a shitty hangover tomorrow.

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

It takes a great deal to see me hungover, Doyle. [Is that a challenge? Why yes. yes it is.]

[Action]

[fuckthemission]

[he laughs]

I'm sure this isn't the first time I've been challenged by a doctor at a bar. [If he could remember those bar visits. :|]

[Action]

[fleurdesel]

No, but it may be the first time you are beaten by one.