diealone | ✈ day one, spam

[Spam for the Hallway on Level One]

[It's like... a record skipping, or car breaks giving out just as you hit a patch of black ice. One minute, he's racing away from gunfire, dragging Sayid along with him, glancing back over his shoulder to track the progress of the van, knowing they're going to make it because this is what they were supposed to do, this was going to fix everything-

And then he... trips? Something hits him? He's not really sure, but whichever it is, he winds up face down in a hallway.

It's not exactly the strangest thing that's ever happened to him, but it still throws him off, makes him think what now before pushing himself up enough to look around, try to get his bearings back.]

Sayid!

[He's alone. Sayid's nowhere in sight, and neither is the van, or Hurley, or Jin or Miles. He pushes himself to his feet, and realizes he has less than no idea where he is. If it's somewhere in the Barracks, he's never been there before, and why would he have wound up here?

Was it a flash? It didn't seem like what the others had told him about, and if it was, why was he the only one who skipped ahead? Why would it have been a flash in the first place? Where the hell is he? He has to set off the bomb.

He's wearing a beige jumpsuit with JACK, WORKMAN stitched into the left pocket and a black and white octagonal patch above that with the word DHARMA in the center. There's a large red gash on his forehead that looks mostly scabbed over, a cloth bag tied around his waist, and he's sweaty, out of breath and desperate looking as he casts about, struggling to process what the hell is going on.]

Sayid? Hello?

[ooc: Multiples and fuzzy time welcome. c:]

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You must be new.

[Jack spins around and just. Stares. And stares.

And stares a little more before quickly reaching for-

... He doesn't have his gun. What happened to the gun?]

What are you?

[He does not want to say he is an Inquisitor. But for all that the word necessarily means nothing to this man, he cannot lie and say he is not, either.]

My name is Marsh. I will not hurt you.

[It's harder to be threatening and get what he wants when he's unarmed, and talking to someone who looks like he has rods shoved through his skull, or something, but what sense of self preservation he has is really not loving this arrangement right now.]

Where am I?

This place is called the barge.

You're...probably dead.

[Sorry.]

What?

[He's not sure if he's more confused or angry. He doesn't remember dying, and he feels like he would, even if it was just something sudden, like-

Like maybe taking a bullet in the back, which could have been what pushed him forward, but he doesn't remember that, doesn't want to think that's what happened. He has a purpose, and he needs to get back to it.]

It is disconcerting.

[Such sympathy. Very soothing. Metaphorically, not with brass.]

Someone is attempting to give you another chance.

I don't- I don't need a second chance! [And he's angry now, suddenly, because he had a second chance, and now he was somewhere else? And he was dead?

None of this is supposed to be happening. He was supposed to fix everything, stop all of this from happening, and he'd died?

He can't accept that.]

I have to get back.

I'm sorry.

[Despite his curtness, there's a weight to this, solemn and sincere. He understands duty.]

There is something I think you should see.

[He turns, moves back up the staircase toward the deck.]

No.

[He hasn't moved, and he's glaring now, the anger bubbling up hot and familiar because he is sick of this, he is so sick of people telling him what he's supposed to do, what he needs to do.

So he's unarmed, and he's who knows where, but he's still going to be making some demands before this goes any further, because he's tired of being someone else's pawn.]

You tell me what it is before we go anywhere.

[He stops and glances back, as mild as a man with spikes for eyes can manage to look. He has no intention of forcing Jack to go anywhere.]

The deck is open. People with eyes tell me the sky is different here.

[It's still unsettling as hell, and Jack's reluctant to trust him, or his word.]

Different how?

Apparently there are more stars.

I've never seen it, so I can't really be specific.

Fine.

If that's going to speed this along, fine.

[It won't, of course. He's stuck. But it might help get past the initial refusal to believe. He nods, and silent begins climbing the stairs again.]

[Jack follows silently, still wary and angry and frustrated, and that continues until he steps out on deck.

Any question of whether or not he's skipped forwards or backwards in time is instantly gone. He's not on the Island. He's definitely not anywhere on Earth and for a long moment, all he can do is stare.

When he does find his voice, he sounds wrecked.]

I don't understand.

The place isn't part of your world. Or mine. It - travels, and for now, we are bound to it.

[He rounds on Marsh and just stares at him.]

Why?

The creature in charge thinks you need to be redeemed.

What creature?

It calls itself the Admiral, and makes arrangements. None of us actually know what he is.

I can't- I can't be here, right now. There has to be a way to send me back.

Some people do go back, when they're free. Time isn't connected to time in your world. You could go back to the same moment.

But we don't have a way to do it now.

You can guarantee that? That I'll go back right to when I left from?

If that's what you decide.

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diealone - 2014-02-05 19:24 (UTC) - Expand

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