shatterverse | (no subject)

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dacemegen-a

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New York-- or what's left of it-- is starting to piss Jennifer off.

At least, this year her name has mostly been Jennifer.

She's gone by others, in the past. A lot of others.

Getting back to New York, however: first of all, it's New fucking York. Not Norak, not Station Twenty-Eight-- New York, with cars that run on gasoline and no buildings higher than about a hundred stories. (She hasn't bothered counting, and anyways, half of them appear to have fallen down).

The second problem is that it's full of carnivorous plant life. She lost her shoes the first day and switched out her gloves the second, because the advantage her fingers and toes give to climbing is severely hampered by any attempt to hide them, and currently being inconspicuous is taking a backseat to being alive. So fingerless gloves and toe socks with the ends cut off it is.

Which is how she's currently dangling from a rooftop by her feet, staring down at three rustling green things and calculating her odds of survival if she tries to take them on all at once.

It doesn't look good.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Light.

The resounding crack-boom of space's protests as something twists and tears and something is added that wasn't there.

A desk, textbooks and worksheets and looseleaf fluttering behind it, and trailing the cord to a lamp. An office chair. And a girl.

They clatter onto the roof.

She just sits for a moment, blinking. It's hard to go from trying to work out a proof in the comfort of one's room to landing on something hard, outside, in what looks like a warzone.

The pair of feet with extra-long toes just visible at the edge of the roof twitches.

And then DACEMEGEN-A flips up and lands on the rooftop in a perfect combat-ready crouch that flows seamlessly into something a great deal more acrobatic and less threatening the instant her eyes land on Jessica.

Not a threat. Okay.

Inside, DMG-A is flicking from possibility to possibility. Outside, she's straightening up into a relaxed, slightly clumsy standing position and offering a sheepish smile.

"Kinda startled me there," she says.

The girl spends some more time not moving as several things compete in her brain.

A small part of her is still trying to figure out that proof, since that makes a lot more sense than anything going on here.

Another part is trying to figure out how she is NOT inside anymore.

Most of her is focused on there is a person in front of her and that person's fingers look wrong and WHAT THE HELL?!

Which is why her first response is, "Sorry... I'm quiet." Because the only part of her that's free to interact is the "Rote Dialog" part.

Cheerfully: "Not a problem. Gimme a minute, would you?"

And she turns around and hops calmly off the edge of the roof, catching herself on windowsills and protruding bricks as she falls, and-- yeah, right there, the fire escape ladder won't mind the loss of a rung, okay--

The sound of three triffids casting their stingers is followed almost immediately by the sound of DACEMEGEN-A landing in the middle of the three of them and delivering a hefty dose of asskick. She was right: the iron bar tips the balance just enough.

And triffid remains make a remarkably good meal if you know how to cook them.

Which is a good thing, because there really isn't much else around here to eat.

...

Jessica Boyette may be quiet and stony, but she is also curious.

So there is a splotchy face peering over the edge.

Wow.

"What are those?"

"Don't know."

Okay, the kid's seen her fingers and now knows she can kill triffids. How do we do damage control here?

Answer: we don't. More important things to worry about.

"They try to kill you if they get close enough, but you can make a decent stew out of them if you're not picky."

"OK." She nods.

Let's see... what else is relevant to the situation at hand?

"What just happened? This isn't my neighborhood."

"Yeah, it's not mine either, believe me. Near as I can figure, that loud noise and bright light brings people or things into this place from... well, wherever they were before. I don't know how it works or why, but there you have it. Listen, it's a good idea to keep moving. There'll be more of these plants along as soon as they hear us talking."

"All right." She gets up and, after a moment of thought, rifles though her desk. A rubber band ball, a letter opener, pens, a pack of looseleaf, glue. Those seem useful enough, hopefully.

"Is there somewhere safe?"

"No, there pretty much isn't. Sorry, kid."

There is no motorbike.

There could be, and it would make travel easier, but there isn't, at the moment. Tomas is making his way across rooftops, and rooftops don't lend themselves well to vehicles. It's a thing.

(He could not go across rooftops, but there are less triffids up here.)

Upon seeing people, one on the street and one leaning out the window, he breaks into a run, towards them. There's added jumping, whenever there's a gap between buildings. Eventually, he's near their spot, leaning down over the rooftop to peer down at them.

"Didn't know there were people here. Alive ones, I mean. The plants don't count."

Blink.

"I just got here."

From her perspective, there are, in fact, quite a few people.

They're just all beyond helping, on account of being dead.

There's... a lot more than normal. Even for a city.

"I haven't seen anyone but you two since my first day."

Let's not discuss what she saw on her first day.

Let's!

"They still around?"

"Not so much."

It would probably be unwise to ask for details.

"Do you know a safe place, guy?"

"If I did, I'd be there."

Surprisingly, it's said with only mild sarcasm.

"City's overrun with man-eating plants. Safe places're not really that likely around here."

Speaking of whichc, she's going to pick up her triffid carcasses and duck inside the building to head up the stairs. A height advantage is one of the few things resembling safety still available.

"How long have you been here, then? Can't we leave?"

Leaving sounds like the best option. Unless the plants are everywhere, in which case this sucks more than anything before in her life.

"If there's a way to leave, I haven't seen it yet."

DMG-A, being on the stairs and therefore out of sight, can't comment.

"Second option, then..." she mutters with a sigh.

"Now I wish I was more in shape."

"Could be worse. Could be dinosaurs."

Stairs.

Jessica thinks that over.

"If they were herbivorous, it might not be worse."

She checks the hallway for their third.