( open ) I knew the waiting had begun

[rightly]

who: Steve Trevor & YOU!
what: Steve's arrival at the Quarantine.
when: August 20th-30th
where: all around
warnings: none expected
note: feel free to poke me @ extreminator or PM if you'd like a more specific starter or have another idea for a thread!


I ▹ ARRIVAL & RECOVERY ▹ HOSPITAL

[ It's a sudden feeling to him, like being pulled violently by a rope tied around his neck. Steve finds himself gasping for air and choking on the first breath that fills his lungs. Feels like a very first breath too, it hurts and makes his throat and lungs burn, his vision blurring as if confronted by light for the first time too.

It's not heaven, he reckons that much. No sort of afterlife, period. Everything here is far too overwhelming, confusing and painful for this to be supposedly what comes after death, and after he's revived and tended to, put back to sleep again so he can have some rest, only to wake up later on, mostly alone on a bed in a communal room, he soon realizes where he is.

A hospital. He's not a stranger to them, even if everything in here is completely foreign to him. The furniture is strange, the windows and the sight beyond them boggling, the various machinery and wiring too confusing and overwhelming. There's a box by the corner with moving pictures, with the very faint sound of voices and music filtering through, but it's nothing he understands.

Honestly, he doesn't understand anything at all, ranging from what this place is, to how did he even get here. But it's not like he can do much more than just lie and wait for the doctors to let him leave— well, he could leave, but at least for the first few hours, any attempts to even get up aren't very successful, and he ends up stumbling until he's leaning against the bed, finding himself forced to sit back down on it. ]

... crying out loud...

II ▹ EXPLORING ▹ STREETS

[ To say that the city's foreign to him is putting it very mildly. Once he's released from the hospital, and is actually capable of standing on his own two feet, he immediately decides to explore the Quarantine, as if that alone will suffice to learn everything he must about the city.

He's soon proven wrong, of course. Between the cars and bikes driving by too fast, the overload of information at every corner, and the odd fashion choices of almost everyone walking up and down the streets, it's not long until Steve looks like a headless chicken walking about, looking this way and that, stopping every so often and just standing in the middle of the street, staring at a screen playing out some moving picture on a store window, or a woman's skirt that just happens to be a little too short.

It's not particularly difficult to bump into him when he's out and about, and he'll immediately turn to face the person who's just walked into him, lifting up his hands to help just in case they lose their balance. ]

Sorry— sorry, my fault. Are you alright?

III ▹ GETTING LOST ▹ STREETS

[ It's also not too terribly surprising that, after long periods spent roaming the streets and parks outside, Steve finds himself losing his way on more than one occasion. As the days go on, he starts to memorize some paths and is able to place himself a little more easily, but he still realizes he needs some help to find his way back a few times, and although his pride keeps him from reaching out immediately, he eventually accepts defeat.

Approaching anyone who seems at least vaguely friendly, he smiles, tipping his head slightly. ]

Excuse me. I was wondering... could you point me in the direction of the community housing?

IV ▹ WILDCARD ▹ ANYWHERE ELSE

[ Between looking around various places for a job, having to look for shops where he can buy a few new clothes, or simply relaxing or settling in for a quiet night reading at the balcony of the 7th floor, feel free to bump into Steve or cross paths with him just about anywhere! ]

Comments

i

[veritron]

[ Verity's had her share of rough transitions. Being teleported, Cybertronian-style, was precisely zero on the fun scale, and getting schlorped into the Noisemaze? Negative numbers. Probably squared. Or cubed. Or whatever.

This? This was almost easy. Though she did wish the robe, you know, tied up better in back. In fact, searching for her actual clothes is why she's walking by the dude's room in the first place. ]

You blow chunks yet?

They say it makes you feel better. Spoiler alert: they lie.

[rightly]

[ Steve wouldn't exactly call this a fun experience either, but at the very least he's still alive. That has to count for something, and maybe it's that fact that has him not complaining all that much.

The robes aren't exactly comfortable, though, and they don't help when all he wants to do is get off this bed and leave. It ends up being one of the reasons why he doesn't try as hard to do just that, and more often than not he settles back down on the bed, where he's not presenting anyone with the view of his naked rear. ]

I... what? [ He frowns, glancing at the woman in confusion, absolutely no idea what she just asked him. ]

[veritron]

[ Dude, if you're complaining, it means you're still alive. Then, of course, you start plotting revenge, but she's not up to that step herself yet. ]

What what?

[Seriously.]

You know, blow chunks? Toss cookies? Technicolor yawn? Worship at the porcelain altar?

[It's so OBVIOUS, man.]

[rightly]

[ Oh good, that clarification just about explains everything. Except not really. Steve just ends up staring at her for a while, finally scrunching his face and shaking his head as he waves a hand at her for her to just stop. Or slow down. Anything. ]

Alright, stop. Stop, can you... at least try to speak English? [ That'd help, just saying. ]

[veritron]

Dude, I AM speaking English. You think this scrap would be clearer in Cybertronian?

[Extra Spoiler: it wouldn't. Give her a second, because it takes effort to be, you know, BORING. ]

'Vomiting.' [Do those air quotes help? And her impression of Ratchet's prissy scowl?]

Or like, what? They don't DO that wherever you're from?

[What are you, fancy or something?]

[rightly]

[ Well excuse him for being a hundred years behind on colloquialisms!

Staring flatly at her for a couple of seconds. ] Yes. We do that where I come from. I've never heard it being called that, though. [ There's a pause. ] I don't know what... cybertronan is, either.

[veritron]

[No. It's a dog eat dog world out there, man. No mercy. Rawr. ]

Well, wherever you're from, they probably raise their pinkies when they do it, too. Or something weird.

[ Because, seriously, how weird is this guy? WEIRD. ]

Yeah, well, you normals probably don't know much about them. You know, giant alien robots and everything.

[rightly]

Not really. I don't, at least. [ That's got to be the strangest mental image. ]

Can't say I've ever met any aliens. Or giant robots for that matter, although I have seen some pretty impressive... things. [ Which he most likely better not bring up. Even here. ] But we do still speak English, and I'm pretty sure I haven't hit my head hard enough to forget any of it.

[veritron]

[ Dude, people who don't know colorful phrases for yakking are the strange ones. ]

Yeah, well, you're probably not supposed to admit when you've seen strange shit, anyway, right?

[She wasn't supposed to, but after Prowl pulled that shit? She officially DGAF.]

So, what kind of freaky sheltered life do you lead where people only speak like, you know, school English? [ Weirdo. ]

[rightly]

What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?

[ Well she's not wrong, but Steve can't help the trace of paranoia that rises. She couldn't possibly know why Steve has to keep some things a secret, after all. Can she? ]

Right, because we have it so easy where I come from, only because we speak proper English. [ Well, proper to her anyway. ] I'm from 1918. We do have turns of phrase, for the record. Just... different ones.

[veritron]

I don't know. Probably get unpleasant visits from brick-faced guys in government suits or some scrap.

[The Machination was bad enough. Last thing she needed was like, the CIA or something getting on her tail. ]

Really? 1918? [ SQUINT.]I thought you guys all had like, you know, weird mustaches and hats and stuff. [ So, dude, that was Charlie Chaplin she was thinking of. Close enough. ] So, I mean, all this is new to you, huh? You should check out the indoor plumbing. [ No outhouses! Welcome to *~the future~*! ]

[rightly]

No, you're— you're fine. Not getting any unpleasant visits.

[ If anything he'd be the one getting into trouble for sharing classified information. Not that it matters one way or the other here. The war is over, anyway. Or so he's been told. ]

Well, I do like hats, for what it's worth, but I've never had a moustache. [ He gives her something of a flat stare, if also amused. ] It may be hard to believe, but I'm no stranger to indoor plumbing. [ Well, it is pretty nice that it's just about everywhere here. At least he won't have to pick and choose where to live so he can have a bath whenever he wants to. ]

[veritron]

Yeah, well, like they can even find me here. That's a bright side, right?

[ You'll never get her, coppers! Or, well, whoever is gonna try to kill her next. Take a fraggin' number! ]

Yeah, well, keep it that way. Mustaches are freakin' weird, man.

[ Okay, fine, so you had plumbing. She wasn't some kind of history nerd!] Yeah, but we in the future have stuff like, ya know, antibiotics! [What? Spend enough time with Ratchet, learn the entire history of how 'backwards' Earth medicine is.]

[rightly]

Guess that's true for just about any unpleasant visit you'd like to avoid.

[ In his case, death itself. Feels a little bit like cheating, maybe, but he's certainly not about to complain. It may be a second chance, or it's simply borrowed time he has here, but he'll welcome it one way or the other. ]

That so? And what's your expert opinion on beards? [ Not that he's asking with the intent of growing one, obviously.

He narrows his eyes slightly, confused by the word. He almost doesn't want to relent, but he can't help his curiosity. ] What's an antibiotic?