trans_9 | (no subject)

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Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in oblong glowing things that were clustered along the floors and walls of the huge, ancient-looking caverns.

For now, the ones that were cracking were the closest to the floor, but perhaps later, the figures sliding out of the pods would be sliding out onto the slimy walkways and platforms above.

Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.

There was light, and unconscious minds breaking through the top of the briny, harsh waters of consciousness, as their bodies did similarly and broke free from the pods, sliding to the floor, shivering in pools of slime.

Once the temporary blindness that some of them had passed, and once they were free of their sleepy stupors: somebody had some splainin' to do.

But there would be no explanations, as the only thing that could explain was only watching, silently, almost as a mother would look at their child right after it was born.

Pop. KASCHUNKhissss.

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"Criminals complain about everything."

They really did.

Deadpan. "You heard wrong. There's no smile at all. My sense of humor was surgically removed when I graduated from the police academy. They do that to all of us, you know."

"Damn straight, and you know why? You're infringing on their rights to be stupid." Yes, well, Tony wasn't too aquainted with the common criminal. He was more used to embezzelment and attempts to sell company secrets. It was no wonder he played certain cards close to his chest.

Literally.

"Did I kill the funny?" Bringing it up in conversation may have reminded her that things were incredibly awkward here. Then she had mentioning it being removed, and.. he was laughing, finally. She might try to kill him later, but he didn't think he'd hold it against her. She was something else.

"Now, that's no way to live. Besides, I've met cops that have senses of humor.. rotten ones, but there." Business, damnit, focus. How did he manage to let his brain wander when he was in the middle of some alien hive with no clue what was going on?

"That's funny, because I haven't met any, and I am one."

She was kind of wondering the same thing, how she was with some naked stranger on an alien ship and not freaking out.

Up, up, the walkway.

They could see the caverns sprawling below, all the little pods glowing in the dark.

"That is some view."

A careful pause.

"And so's the cavern."

"Really? Maybe it's the challenge, then. I've always heard that if you can make a cop laugh, you might not end up with that speeding ticket.." Though from her initial grittiness, he was going to assume she handled a hell of a lot more than traffic violations. "Or your local precinct is staffed solely by assholes." That could also be the case.

It kept his mind away from the weirdness, at least for awhile. Whatever kept him from curling up in a fetal position in the corner was a good thing. He'd try to think about the back-and-forth banter, because trying to think about everything else was just too much. The enormity of it might crush him.

"I guess. I'm more into impressionism than, I don't know, H.R. Giger." Then.. well, she'd dropped the punchline. It actually tok him a second to realize she'd.. definitely lied about her sense of humor.

It was hard to shame the shameless, though, and he fought to keep from peering over his shoulder. "Thank you. I work out."

"If someone makes me laugh, I usually ticket them anyway--because that's irony and irony is funny."

Ugly. Ugly. This whole place was ugly.

"I was thinking Dali."

She was NOT going to comment on his ass again. She had used up her daily allotment of come-one kinda jokes. Mostly.

And she'd try not to look at it.

"If only there were melting clocks lying around--then we'd at least know the time."

"What, dashing people's hopes? You lied, though. You have a sense of humor. You're just a sadist on top of it." Tony managed to say it without any real bitterness what-so-ever. He had no problems with police, after all. It was a job he'd come respect.. at least, after his little unplanned vacation. "Find the little joys in your job, I suppose."

"I haven't seen any flying tigers yet. His work is surreal. This is.." Fuck. What was even the right word for it? He drew a blank. "Well. Alien." Maybe he'd change his name to Captain Obvious.

"I bet you the time is classified. If I had anything to bet, that is." It looked like she was all out on compliments. At least she looked..

"If you had anything to bet, I would wonder where you were keeping it."

Deep breath. "Aliens. Aliens are better than--"

What could she call that? What could she call Silent Hill?

"Sci fi is better than horror, at least. So long as we're not dealing with the kind of aliens you need Ripley around to take care of."

She could deal with this. She could.

It was less horrifying than where she'd been.

"Would you believe where I just came from was worse than this?"

"Yeah, considering you took a good look.." That was the sort of thing he would continue to bring up in al future conversations. "It ruins the mystery, though. Nothing at all left to imagination." For a moment, though, he considered. "We could start betting for favors, of course."

Aliens.. over horror. "What, back to zombies?" Of course he didn't know what she'd meant. His particular tormentors had always been human. Augumented, sometimes, but all-in-all, human. "God, yes, I haven't seen any forklifts or airlocks. Do you think that's classified, too?"

"No. Well, yes. Nobody's come out here to waterboard me, so I guess I've been in darker places, too. Just not recently.." Did he want to know? "Could always be hurting.. or dead, I imagine. Being uncomfortable is a little better." Tony had walked away with an odd perspective on life.

Cybil had an odd perspective on unlife.

She also hadn't walked away.

"To be honest, I'm still not sure I'm not dead."

"This is a pretty far cry from heaven. Even if I did wake up near a naked blonde." That had been one of his criteria for waking up dead. Right?

"Not exactly what I thought hell would be like, either. Not enough fire and brimstone.. even if it smells a bit funny in here."

Was that it? Was he dead? He hadn't remembering doing anything alltogether weird. "I had a pretty normal day, as far as I can remember. I didn't do anything to get myself killed. Actually, that might be an off day for me."

She couldn't help but snort slightly at his criteria.

And then they were in the clothing room, where the lights stopped.

"I thought there were supposed to be clothes here."

||Please step into the center of the room.||

Where the vines dangled.

Waiting.

There was no more path to follow, just a little nook that was still somewhat dim. He had been imagining lockers, or even some cheap racks.

Nope.

"I don't like those. I don't like those at all." The tendrils looked.. ominous, and he couldn't begin to really think of the purpose for them. Though he had the feeling that if he didn't move, Cybil might shove him again, or at least spew something obscene at him.

The compromise was that he inched forward. "Really, just.. show me where the clothes are. I can dress myself. Honest. Been doing it for years. I have good taste, even." This would not end well.

Actually, she was firmly against shoving civilians into ominous-looking vines. "Serve and Protect" and all. That was why, when he inched forward--and the vines reacted by lifting up and lurching towards him, she yanked him backwards by the arm.

"Holy hell!"

Maybe it was just a male thing. It wasn't like he was going to make her go first, cop or not. It just wasn't right, besides, they might go taking his superhero liscense away. He'd just gone through telling her that he had personally seen worse places. Of course, he hadn't seen tentacles getting all grabby until now, either.

They moved towards him, and her hands were on his arm, then, roughly pulling him backwards, and he was glad of it.

"What the.. " She'd more or less summed it up. Holy hell, indeed.. For a moment, he'd gone quiet.

That probably wouldn't last long.

||Please step into the center of the room and you will be clothed.||

"Clothed with what?"

||Clothing.||

At that, all she could do was roll her eyes and mutter: "Jesus Christ."

"Could you be less specific? That wasn't vague enough!" Tony had spit that out, obviously unhappy with this turn of events. "God, just give me a towel or something, that'd be fine."

A loincloth, even.

As long as it wasn't made out of tentacles.

Cybil seemed to make a decision.

"Stacy. Whatever your name is. Are those things going to hurt us?"

||No, Cybil Bennet. They will provide clothing.||

Taking a deep breath, steeling herself up (and had she been remotely religious, she might've crossed herself), and keeping her hand on Tony's arm for a moment, a nonverbal 'Stay here,' she took a few wary steps past him.

"Here's hoping robot voices can't lie..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You believe this thing?" Alright, so he doubted Stacy lied. Why would she lie when she seemed so fond of saying nothing at all? She'd more or less gestured for him to stay put. He comprehended, he just wasn't a good listener.

"Why not, just, like, drop the clothing?" He wasn't a small child that needed velcro shoes. Whatever this thing provided, he could figure it out.

Was he worried about her? Well, no doubt, he was quite worried about himself, but he didn't seem so pleased when she actually moved forward, either.

Wincing slightly, she reached out an arm. The vines reached out gingerly, wrapped around her wrist, and tugged her in.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

Huh. It was putting some sort of thingy on her.

"Okay, it's not killing me..." Yet.

It was sliding some kind of cloth over her torso, her legs...