Crash Test Dummy (Literally) >> Audio ;

[justamobster]

[ The post goes up on the network a few minutes after touchdown planetside. The speaker is quite obviously trying to catch his breath, and there’s an undercurrent of laughter in his voice— sharp with both disbelieving amusement and a bit of panic. ]

The er, emergency landin’ system on the ships, yeah? That?

S’workin’. Just thought folks’d wanna know.

[ GUESS WHO ALMOST JUST DIED? This guy!

For context and any in-person concerns, see Prompt #1 here! ]

Comments

Text | UN: SHINIGAMI

[mikoshi]

Thanks. Don't have to run those tests now.

Audio;

[justamobster]

No sweat. Glad it ain't a trip for biscuits. [ Totally not still sounding like he might pass out. Nope. Walk it off, Ceto. ]

Tough fuckin' machines. Don't think she's even got a dent.

[ It sounds like he's patting the side of the ship. And then something clatters and obviously falls off. ] Er, one dent.

[mikoshi]

[ Has no idea what the fuck that means, but he can sorta guess the gist of it. ] Do you need driving lessons? [ Looks like some sort of panel, a cover. To what, who knows. ]

[justamobster]

Yeah, maybe. Practice, at least. Never gone so---

[ What was he talking about again? The adrenaline's starting to wear off. ]

... Later. When it ain't feelin' like my stomach's where my lungs should be.

[mikoshi]

Sit down. Breathe. First Gs are the worst.

[justamobster]

Ain't G, s'nothin' Garevian about...

[ Aaaand whump. That'll be the sound of him going over. ]

audio;

[imhilarious]

What the hell, Speakeasy? [ That's Ladon's callsign because: Dean decided it. ] You think I invested in all that conversation just for you to get pancaked on the first mission? C'mon.

[ Nah thanks for testing the emergency landing system though, love being able to emergency land. That's probably like objectively good to know. ]

You good?

Text > Action?

[mikoshi]

Fuck.

[ Where the hell could this guy be? "Hey, I got a greenhorn who experienced his first landing," won't mean shit to the people here.

Luckily the camp isn't too big. But Vincent doesn't know what this guy looks like, only what he sounds like — like an old timey detective in those noir books Johnny loves so much. ] Swear to God you better not be chokin' in your own vomit...

audio forever;

[justamobster]

'Lo, Cable Knit. [ He has no idea what a speakeasy is-- no prohibition in Nieve-- but he can recognize a nickname when he hears one. He'll have to ask for an explanation when he's not busy keeping his breakfast down. ]

Swell. Right as rain. Just gotta get the world to stop movin' under me.

Action!

[justamobster]

[ Fortunately, there is one decent-sized landmark indicating his whereabouts: an Iron Horizon ass-up in a dune. And as predicted, a panel has fallen off one side, sitting in the sand and looking dented. That's probably not the extent of its damages, but at least it's not on fire.

There is an overdressed mobster lying on the sand nearby, sprawled out like a passed-out drunkard, his device playing any text-based messages out loud in its robotic voice. ]

[mikoshi]

[ Yeah, there's no way in hell Vincent can right that ship with his chrome soft-locked. Couldn't move it even if it wasn't — fucker's too heavy and sand has an insane weight and grip of its own.

Not like it matters. Ships can be rebuilt. People? Not so much.

(Well, unless...) ] Can't let you cook out here. [ Luckily, Vincent can still pick people up, and Ladon isn't too heavy. Being carried like a bride might look silly to others, but fuck it, better to look the fool and avoid heat stroke. Solving that will be worse for their supplies than digging a ship out of the sand.

Better take him into the shade. Might be five minutes, might be five hours before he wakes up. G-force is no joke. ]

[justamobster]

[ It takes him about 20 minutes. Mostly because his frigging furnace decides to wake him by kicking on, and he comes to coughing up smoke and not knowing where the hell he is.

His hat has fallen in his lap, and his first instinct is to reach up to his head-- Oh thank God, he filed the damn horns down soon as they had a date to head planet-side. He's glad the multitool had a nail file built in.

But, well, the plume of smoke coming out of his mouth is a little more concerning, and he has no idea where that stupid vapor cigarette got to and he has none of his normal smokes on him so he just does his best to wave it away and hope no one noticed.

He stuffs his hat back on his head and rubs at his face. ]

Great way to fuckin' kick things off, Ceto.

[mikoshi]

[ Vincent isn't puffing away just yet, because it'll be a cold day in hell before he picks up those disgusting e-cigarettes — strawberry-flavored nicotine? Fuck outta here. Instead, he worries a toothpick, keeping an eye on an analog clock. ] Good mornin', Sleeping Beauty. [ Light tease, no malice behind it. There's a sense in the air that this is old hat to him. ] Anyways, as I was sayin', g-LOC ain't no joke. 4 to 6 g is 'round the ballpark where the untrained go lights out. You're lucky half your ship in the sand and an impromptu nap is all you're dealing with.

[imhilarious]

[ Man. It's actually fun having a lil nickname. Even one like Cable Knit.

Dean will trust, for now, that Ladon would probably mention if he was like, dying or bleeding. Seems like a guy who'd shoot straight. ]

I got great news for you, dude: hardest part's already over. Now all you gotta do is get on board for crash number two. [ A normal life experience. Good ol' adrenaline. ] Sit down, stay down, start countin' out breaths. Doctor's orders.

[justamobster]

[ Grunt. Yes, Ladon's got his share of machismo thanks to the culture(s) he comes from, but he understands when others are giving good advice.

There's a groan as he finds somewhere to sit. And a few coughs that border on gags. He's glad he's on audio only because there is a plume of smoke pouring out of him as his nervous furnace kicks in big time. Thus why he's so pissed he doesn't have a cigarette on hand to blame it on. ]

How many times've you done this? Pretty sure we ain't got anythin'-- and I mean anythin' back home that goes that fast, yeah? Even top-of-the-line hayburners.

[justamobster]

Ishkabibble t'you too.

[ He looks up, searching the other man's face for any sign that he noticed the cough full of smoke. Who knows, maybe that's normal where he's from. Like a damn cartoon character from the shorts they show before the flickers. ]

Not sure what "g" is, but if it ain't in miles-per-hour or comparable t'horses, it don't mean nothin' to this noggin. [ He points to his forehead. ] Whole "space travelin'" particulars're new t'me.

[mikoshi]

[ He's seen much more outlandish — people with multiple, piercing optics where eyes should be, walking and speaking around without throats, with the skin of crocodiles and made out of gold — that the smoke doesn't even register. ] Gravitational force equivalent. Earth is equivalent to 1 g. 4 to 6 g is 4 to 6 Earth's worth of gravity suddenly weighing on ya. Forces all the blood down your body, dryin' up your brain. So you faint — G-force induced loss of consciousness, or g-LOC.

Don't need space travel, just acceleration. [ Winks. ] I race cars.

[justamobster]

You got luggers that go that fast? [ That gets a low whistle. ] Don't think all the cops in Nieve'd catch that. Lemme know if you're up for a heist.

[ He shakes his head, gesturing toward the mess that he made out of his ship. ] M'obviously more of a stick-up or yegg, dependin'. Driver's not my forte.

[imhilarious]

I mean, the spaceships are new. But me and near-death experiences go-- [ He huffs, laughs a little ] Well, we go way back. They're pretty much all the same at the end of the day, right?

[ Could have died (maybe did die for a while), now you're here. Tale as old as time. ]

[justamobster]

[ He laughs, which leads to coughing, which leads to a grumble. ] Mmmph, okay, yeah. Take this over holdin' my insides in with one arm.

[mikoshi]

Always up for a heist — long as what we're stealin' is worth it. [ He winks. ] My services ain't cheap.

Can get one of those robots to be your pilot, if you don't care to learn. But, just in case things go tits up — and chances are they will — you probably should learn. [ Isn't going to offer lessons, however. Presumptuous. ]

[justamobster]

If I find somethin' worth takin', I'll give you a call, yeah? [ Even when recovering from a crash landing, he's scheming and planning. Some habits die hard.

He sits up a little straighter now, finally getting more of his faculties back. It feels a bit like a hangover, minus the ridiculous amount of (literal) heartburn. His furnace is even starting to calm down, and he's able to cough without bringing up too much smoke. The eyeroll he gives the mention of those stupid little robots involves most of his wiry frame. ]

Yeah, right. Don't trust those fuckers far as I could chuck 'em. They ain't touchin' any more of what l'il I got here any more than abso-fuckin'-lutely necessary. No way, no how.

[ So basically, a substitute pilot is right out. Ladon's either going to have to tag along or learn. And considering he's done it once and didn't die... ]

Think I got a few more rough landings in me, yeah?

[imhilarious]

Yeah, never seen that work out for anyone.

[ Local man trying and failing not to be concerned about all the coughing. The ship, he must assume, is not on fire. ]

Deep breath, hold it for a ten-count. Let's hear it.

[justamobster]

[ Other local man does not do well with being fussed over. He's the fusser, not the fuss-ee. ] M'fine, yeah? Just catchin' up with myself.

[imhilarious]

[ Two spidermen pointing at each other, gravely concerned. Dean scoffs. Very maturely. ]

Dude, that's gotta be the worst ten-count I've ever heard.