sixthiterationlogs | welcome to the end of eras ; ota

WHO: Steve Harrington and you~
WHERE: The Bunker, then the streets/inn
WHEN: September 10th onward
OPEN TO: One for arrival, OTA for after
WARNINGS: Language

1) arrival ; bunker tubes - one reply please

[And here he'd thought he might get a break from the weird stuff for a bit. After a particularly hellish day, and no that wasn't an understatement in the slightest, Steve had hoped to just fall into his bed and sleep for 14 hours and do, well, nothing for a day or two. He earned that, right?

Besides, his face fucking hurt and he knew he was going to look like a mess for a while. Better to suffer and heal where he didn't have to deal with the stares.

He got his long sleep, at least, but he hadn't expected to wake up soaking wet. Did he piss himself and fall out of bed? A quick survey brought relief because no he did neither of those things, but this sure felt really wrong?

He brings a hand to his head with a groan, finally trying to open up his eyes.]

What the hell?

2) arrival ; wandring around/inn - ota

[The rest of the morning is something of a blur of shuffling around in crappy green scrubs, disheveled hair, and a face full of cuts and bruises. His head hurt like it never had before and his brain wasn't properly processing things or something. Either shit had gotten even weirder, he was hallucinating from a concussion, or he was having a very realistic dream.

He's a sight walking down the street, taking in the environment and coming away with nothing helpful.

Why is this his life?

At least he finally manages to wander into the most obviously inhabited building, pushing open the front door and heading inside the inn. There's people around, and most of them don't look crazy or hostile, but at this point that's the lowest on his list of worries. He's thirsty, hungry and sore and anything that could alleviate any of those things was all he really cared about at that moment.]

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[He starts to drag himself off the floor at the sound of a female voice. He really needs to get his shit together. Is he going crazy? It wouldn't be that odd, all things considered.

He coughs one as he drags a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes as he finally manages to get fully upright. There's various cuts that have scabbed over on his face, along with plenty of bruising. Someone had definitely used his head as a punching bag.]

Yes? No? [He glances around, blinking slowly.] What the hell is all this?

[ She considers offering him a hand up, but he manages alright on his own. Instead she shrugs. ]

A kidnapping? Mostly what it is is vague and threatening. We should probably go up top, though, get some fresh air. There’s dry clothes in your bag if you want to change.

Seriously?

[His clothes are literally the last thing he cares about. The pain in his head and the whole 'kidnapping' thing is definitely taking front and center in his attention span.]

Okay, why don't you start with the whole 'up top' thing. What are we, underground?

Some kind of bunker.

[ He'll worry about his clothes later, when he starts to get uncomfortable. She starts off in the direction of the tube entrance, expecting him to follow. ]

We found it a few weeks ago, when I'm guessing something activated it and made the entrance available. Truth is, we don't know a whole lot about what's really going on here. I've been here about two months, but there are people who've been here much longer than me.

[Oh, no doubt. It won't take that long, really. He's already uncomfortable, just not because of his clothes.]

Well, that's...super vague. Not that it's your fault or anything, but that's just really shitty.

[He tries to look around as they walk before he decides to just focus on keeping his balance.]

So if this is a bunker, what's up there? Is this Area 51 or something?

A pretty nice little town, actually. Abandoned and run down and quite possibly a remnant of the early 20th century, but nice.

[ She shrugs. She likes it, but she’d probably like the slums of Detroit compared to Gotham. ]

Northwest US, if I had to guess. Which I do, because I don’t know crap about practical ecology. Some freaky looking animals, maybe genetically engineered? I made friends with a family of feral cats that have peacock feathers instead of fur, and there are a few alligator-looking dogs in town. I think they’re technically called ‘croc-dogs’ but they’re obviously freshwater, so whoever named them clearly didn’t know the difference.

[ Forgive her, she’s a chatter. ]

...Right.

[That's actually the worst thing in the history of forever considering his recent encounter with a pack of maybe genetically engineered dog half-breeds, except they totally weren't genetically engineered but just came from some horrific alternate dimension.

So much do not want.]

How about we get the hell out of here so I can check out this supposed pretty nice little town? The less hybrids the better.

The closest entrance is right up ahead. It's a bit of a walk into town, but the other one is a swim. I can't guarantee no hybrids, but there are some regular cats and dogs in town too.

[ She indicates the door at the end of the hall. Almost there. ]

How did you get here? Walk or swim?

[He assumes walk if she's dry, but he's already soaking wet so what's another dip in the water.]

Walk. It's not that far, and the only cardio I get otherwise is cartwheels.

Alright, I guess I'm up for a hike. It'll help me get rid of my tube legs.

[Get it, instead of sea legs. It's a terrible joke.]

[ She snorts a laugh. ]

Come on then, ye surface lubber.

welcome to the end of eras ; ota

of course <3

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