OTA - First Things First

[super_seal]

WHO: Steve McGarrett and YOU
WHERE: Fountain, Forest, Village (behind and in between buildings)
WHEN: September 3rd
OPEN TO: All
SCRUB COLOR: Hunter Green
WARNINGS: None to start
STATUS: Open

[ Fountain ]

Coming to, Steve knows instantly that he’s underwater. Fighting the upwards momentum, he opens his eyes and tries to get some idea of what the hell is going on. All he sees is darkness with light shining down from above. He knows which way to go and after confirming he’s alone without any detectible threat in the water he kicks up.

Slowing just before surfacing, he eases his eyes and nose above the water with barely a splash. SEAL training coming in especially helpful at the moment. He scans his surroundings, only to find that nothing looks familiar.

The last he remembered was taking Wo Fat prisoner and flying a chopper from an island not far off Hawaii. They’d been over the pacific, he remembers that, but then nothing until coming to in the water. Had someone shot them down? The chances of him landing in the fountain he found himself in was extremely slim, but it is possible someone attempted to dispose of him there. The landscape doesn’t look familiar and he doesn’t think he’s on the islands anymore. Which makes him wonder how long he’s been out and where exactly he is.

But first things first. Easing up high enough to see over the edge of the fountain, he sees what looks to be... a park?


[ Forest ]

Out of the fountain, he makes quick work of getting some distance between him and it. It’s not till he has some cover in the trees does he notice what he’s wearing. It strikes him odd to find himself in scrubs and instantly he misses his cargo pants and everything he normally keeps in his pockets. What he misses most though is a weapon.

Taking inventory of what he has in the backpack, he decides against changing at the moment. Changing may help him fit into whatever mess he’s found himself in, but until he has more intel he’ll stay as he is. Instead he removes only one sock from the backpack and with a quick look around him he picks up a rock about the size of his fist and slips it into the sock. Not a great weapon, but it’s better than nothing until he has time to either acquire some or make something better.

With the backpack secured to his back, he carefully scouts out the forest staying as concealed as possible while also gathering as much information as he can. As he moves through he does some light tracking of any animal trails that he might find as well as notes any vegetation that could be useful for food, weapons, tools or anything else he may need. He may not need any of it, and doesn’t waste time lingering, but if he needs it later he’ll know where to find it.


[ Village ]

Once he ventures out far enough from the fountain, he sees the buildings. With the fountain he had figured there was a settlement of some sort not far off and now that he finds it, he’s curious to see what he’s up against. Attempting to keep as concealed as possible, he peaks into windows and around corners.

The town isn’t what he was expecting and he’s still confused about where he is and why. His leading theory is that Wo Fat somehow managed to get the upper hand, knock him out and brought him here, but seeing the village and the people walking around without weapons he realizes that doesn’t seem likely either.

After watching for a bit he slips his ‘rock-in-a-sock’ into his backpack and ventures in closer. He can only find out so much information by remaining hidden and so far he’s not detected a specific threat. Still, he came to by almost drowning in the fountain and as far as he knows, any one of these people could have tossed him there... Along with a backpack with three days worth of clothing. Whoever put him in the fountain hadn't expected him to die there. So, he’s ready for anything.

Comments

fountain

[underpinnings]

There are two places for new arrivals to get their shit sorted, as far as Owen's made note of: the fountain-side inn, and a brick house a couple rows behind it. The owner of the latter seemed like a good lead--might know more about the scrubs, about the breakdown of times and places people came from. He might even corroborate stories about the fountain itself, but it's Owen's luck that he went looking the day the guy decided to take some leave of absence.

I will be away for an indefinite amount of time,, the note read, tacked down under a mug on the dining room table. Nice handwriting, proof of certain supplies existing in the space. Please continue to use the rooms until housing can be arranged for you, and stick with the villagers in case of further emergency. Linens are in the hall closet, maps are in the china cabinet.

At least he'd gained that much, lips twitching at some of the descriptions. Certain kinds of people would appreciate knowing which house grew weed, and Owen would figure out the meaning of wizards written along a row of houses at some later date. In the absence of his desired contact, and probable absence of the welcome-wagon, he'd taken the map and its notes out to the fountain to study, perching on the edge.

He doesn't even hear the man break surface over the splash of the fountain's waters, the voices carrying along the paths. It isn't until he hauls himself up, near to the opposite side of the central pillar, that the movement catches Owen's attention and startles the map out of his hands.

Leaving it in the safety of the dry dirt and grass, he moves around the fountain's edge, hands out in a placating and ready posture. "Whoa there," he says, like treating a person like a spooked horse has ever waylaid a panicked ass-kicking. "You want a hand-up?"

fountain

[super_seal]

Seeing the movement coming from around the other side of the fountain, Steve stays crouched from his transition out of the water - smaller target, easier to avoid or attack if need be. With the man in view, Steve's eyes quickly scan over him, looking for weapons or any sign of a threat, before noting the hands out gesture and then moving up to meet his eyes. He's more than capable of delivering an ass-kicking, but only if the situation deserves one, Steve's not really the type to panic.

If there is a threat, it doesn't appear to be immediate, but erring on the side of caution, he shakes his head at needing a hand as he straightens. "But, thanks." Tilting his head towards the fountain, eyes never leaving the other, he asks, "You know how I ended up in there?"

[underpinnings]

"Not yet" is the answer Owen prefers to no, his gaze passing over the man to the fountain's cascade. "But I know a decent number of people came out of it before you--myself included."

No one had bee standing immediately by to greet him, and he'd wandered in several directions--and climbed several trees--before being spotted and given the Cliff notes on the subject. He wonders how people usually handle it: he wonders how the man he'd been looking for handles it, having made it something of a job.

Owen's less concerned with handling new people than he is information. He's never going to get to the point of saying yes to their questions if he doesn't keep at it. Ends; means. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his now off-white scrubs, he focuses back on the man. "Where did you wind up coming from," he asks, and to soften the question offers his own: "I was on a street corner in Los Angeles. Felt like--falling asleep, then I was in there."

[super_seal]

Looking down at the water in the fountain, Steve frowns. "So this is a regular occurrence?" One without knowing why or how it happens. So far he's not liking how this is unfolding.

At the question Steve looks up at Owen. If Owen wouldn't have answered the question himself first, Steve likely wouldn't have given him a straight answer. As it is, with information given he doesn't see the immediate danger in providing an honest answer in return. Although, he will be leaving out a couple of the details. "My last memory before waking up down there was flying a chopper between islands in Hawaii." The frown deepens. "I don't think we crashed, at least there was no indication of that about to happen from what I remember." Although it's troubling that he can't remember anything.

Bringing a hand up he rubs it over his ribs before reaching up further to touch his face, first his jaw and then up to his left cheekbone and eye. They don't feel cut or bruised, but they should. He'd been in a plane crash, hand to hand combat, and a firefight before taking off in the chopper. He doesn't feel stiff or sore and the headache he could feel coming on while he was flying is gone. "But, some time has definitely passed. Do you know what the date is?"

[underpinnings]

Owen still has enough of an accent that some people take him for a tourist or student, stateside, but he lifts a brow at mention of the islands. "Mom's people are in Hawaii," he admits, "finished up school over there for a bit." For all he doesn't immediately look it, Owen slots the man into the set of islanders with himself and Moana.

When that detail will ever be important, he can't say.

Glancing at the sky, he knows the chopper didn't come along for the ride. It ticks something at the back of his neck, takes over his brain for a moment--trying to imagine driving anything before waking up here. "I lost some time too," he says, not sure if it's all that reassuring. At least it's something consistent. "I'd just--I had a tattoo still healing up, but when I crawled out of there, thing was fine. That had to take over a week, but no one's ever said anything about the gap."

From all the notes left, no one knows anything. Including what day it is. "I can't even tell you the day of the week, here. I think we're getting into autumn, but everyone's got different stories about when they came from. We've got people who personally remember D-Day walking around."

[super_seal]

"Yeah?" Steve can't help but smile at meeting another from Hawaii. True his ancestors weren't from there, but his grandfather died on and is still entombed in the Arizona, and Steve was born and raised till he was fifteen there. "There is no better place on the planet. I grew up on Oahu and then moved back a couple of years ago. It'll always be home."

A frown creases his forehead at the consensus that missing time is normal but not questioned. Steve has no recollection or any hint of time passing. If his wounds weren't completely healed he'd swear none had. What the hell is going on here?! "How long have you been here, roughly?"

Then he raises an eyebrow. "D-Day? As in June 6, 1944?" The first thing he thinks of is that some people have been here a very long time, but then he realizes that might now be what Owen means. His eyes narrow as he tries to wrap his head around that. "You implying that there are people here from different time periods? That makes this place what? The Bermuda Triangle?" Although that is the wrong ocean as far as Steve is concerned. Then, mostly out of curiosity, "When are you from? It was May 7th, 2012 for me."

[underpinnings]

His own claim to the islands is even less tangible, though he knows he owes his aunt his life several times over. He'd only stayed long enough to clean up and graduate high school before he kept moving east, as many coasts as he could put between himself and Auckland. "I was over in Hilo myself, then Los Angeles. It was late summer, twenty-seventeen when I left." he says, part of him latching on to the most normal, conversational part of--everything.

His journal of sorts is on the other side of the fountain, days ticked off in a margin. He touches the tip of his tongue to an incisor and considers: "And I've been here a couple of weeks, maybe? A lot have been here longer, up to a year I think."

It doesn't bother him the way it maybe should: the idea of a year has some freedom in it, like he has time to figure this out. If he was shoved back into his old life, knowing this existed, losing access to the information of how or why--he'd be disappointed. He wants to best this, not just endure it to an abrupt end. "Bermuda Triangle is one theory, I guess, or something like it." His knowledge of Crater Lake doesn't extend to the supposed "ley lines" someone drew on the inn's map. "Assuming we're still on some modern part of Earth, I don't know--how extensive is your knowledge of places that dont' have satellite imaging?"

[super_seal]

Steve nods, familiar with Hilo over on the big island, but before he can say anything, his eyes widen slightly at the date Owen says he's from. "You're from a little over five years ahead of me..." That still seemed surreal to him. How can they possibly be from two different times in the here and now. It's possible that Steve had been in a coma for five years, but that didn't explain those from D-Day.

"So for the past year, roughly, people have just started showing up here?" Biting his lip he looks around before focusing back on Owen. "Any idea where here is or what the purpose of all this is?"

Owen more or less answers the first part of that question in what he says next. Truth be told, Steve knows a fair bit about satellite imaging from his time in Naval Intelligence. From his perspective, there isn't a place on the planet that the military can't see via satellite should they choose, it's just a matter of repositioning or in some cases waiting for the right window. Instead of answering the question directly he crosses his arms and tilts his head. "Why do you think there's no satellite imaging here?"

[underpinnings]

He shakes his head, trying to encompass--the five years, the ignorance his weeks and others' year hasn't filled in. They're low on proof, if not low on ideas or possible expertise. There's a hospital, people to run it, people to grow crops--but no one with he's met with a solid idea of the point.

Maybe that guy who made the map, wherever he fucked off to.

"I guess I don't know that it's not, but--a year, people trapped in a canyon? If someone can see us, and we're still here, then the access is at least restricted to someone responsible or totally uncaring. I guess what I'm saying is, it's sinister as fuck, or we've just been carted off somewhere the google Earth van doesn't visit."

[super_seal]

At Owen's explanation, Steve makes a point of mapping out the night sky when he can get a chance. Satellites may or may not be possible to see, but being a sailor he's got a good foundation of what stars they would see depending on location. If he can identify the right stars, the might be able to say where they are.

"Not necessarily. Unless someone is scrutinizing the area for whatever reason, that there is activity here where there wasn't before wouldn't be enough to set off any alarms. What kind of technology is available to us here? We could try to signal one." Then he realizes someone may have already done what he was previously thinking. No need to recreate the wheel and if it was done at a different time of year the view would have changed, that would give him more information to work with. "Has anyone mapped the stars?"