High As A Kite [R for Language] [Open]

[ford-sawyer-815.livejournal.com]

Sawyer had been avoiding the city ever since Bella had told him that the Vatican had been all but destroyed during the fighting with the zombies. No one had died, which Sawyer--rather immodestly--accredited to himself and all the work he put in getting the basilica ready for just that kind of occasion. But with the basilica trashed, Sawyer had lost the spot on the ship that he had adopted as his own little castle--even if other, more religious crew members had tried to mosey in on his turf. So, in an effort to familiarize himself with some of the newly opened areas of the ship, Sawyer had been walking around and poking his head into the command deck, engineering, neuropathy, and, eventually, the flight deck.

He spent at least an hour wandering around the deck, looking at all the different fighters, bombers, mechs, frigates, and shuttles before his eyes landed on something that most definitely didn't seem to belong. In one untouched corner of the flight deck stood an object covered up with a protective tarp. It wasn't large, especially in comparison to all the other machines around it. It, in fact, looked rather reminiscent in size to a normal vehicle from Earth.

With furrowed brow, Sawyer wandered over to the "mysterious" vehicle and cautiously took hold of the tarp and gave it a sharp tug only to reveal....





THE MYSTERY MACHINE!!!

Sawyer's mouth fell open as he stared in utter shock at the van in front of him. "No. Fucking. Way," he said, his eyes wide with awe. It was really... No it couldn't be... But it was... It was really the goddamn Mystery Machine.

"Hot damn!" Sawyer hooted as he grabbed the handle on the door and tugged it open--it was unlocked, surprisingly--and started searching for the keys to get the damn thing started. He was gonna be driving the fuckin' Mystery Machine. At least, he would be as soon as he found the keys. He checked the visor--nothing. Under the driver's seat--nothing. Under the passenger seat--nothing. The glove compart...

He had no more than opened the glove compartment when Sawyer's mouth dropped open yet again. He'd found the keys, finally, sitting right smack on top of a large bag of pot--complete with rolling papers--that had been stuffed into the glove box.

"Holy fucking Scooby snack," Sawyer hooted, again.

An hour or so later, anyone stopping by the hangar deck would find Sawyer, driving in circles in an empty corner of the hangar at five miles at hour. The windows were rolled up, and a cloud of smoke filled the vehicle as the meatship's resident a$$hole puffed away on something that was not a cigarette.

[OOC: Please keep to one thread. Thank you!!!]

Comments

[thewunderkind]

"How about if we drive it to Taco Bell!?" It sounded like the best idea right now. Lash still didn't know what it was, but surely Stacy had one. Surely!

[not-prncss-tldr.livejournal.com]

"That sounds like...an excellent. Idea." Lafiel said with a new haltingness. Her anti-alcahol filtering enzymes were all in her stomach. The rich smoke that spread over her alveolae bypassed her defenses entirely. "I am the most experienced pilot here. I should...maneuver this vehicle."

[ford-sawyer-815.livejournal.com]

Sawyer glanced into the rear-view mirror at the blue-haired girl in the back, giving her a confused look. "Pilot? What we need a pilot for? It's a van. It don't fly or nothing," he tried to explain. Sawyer thought he was doing a rather spectacular job at driving...five miles an hour...in circles.

[nothawkingbird.livejournal.com]

"You need a license to drive," Kate supplied helpfully from where she was leaning her head against Tony. "You drive cars, you no fly them. Flying's trickier. Ask my robot pal, he'd so know."

[thewunderkind]

"Yeah sorry to tell everyone, buuuut," she somehow let that last word linger. "Buuuuut, I've totally driven tanks and stealth planes since I was seven. I think I'm the most qualified."