lucetilogs | Zompania Draft - Draftees only, days 1-3.5

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Zompania Draft - Draftees only, days 1-3.5

Who: All Draftees
What: This is your death. Followed by your time-traveling life and desperate bomb hunting.
When: From May 22 to May 20 to early May 23 (days 1-4)
Where: Zompania
Summary: Information post here
Rating: Varies on thread, please mark explicit material.

This post is for the draftee-only portion of the Zompania draft--the day 3 death, time travel to day 1, and then the events until the arrival of the reinforcements. Be sure to use the above info post for any plotting needs you might have. Enjoy!

Please note that there is a specific top-level comment thread for:

The day 3 arrival of the draftees and the 6 hours that follow until the bomb is dropped
Death--This thread can be treated as REFERENCE ONLY. Responding to it isn't necessary.
Threads prior to departing for Zompania--post resurrection freak outs, arguments over how to proceed, etc.

All other threading, from day 1 until the reinforcements arrive, should be conducted as normal.

Be sure to tag this post appropriately: [canon] character name

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's less horrified by this than he should be. Or at least, he's very good at repressing and focusing on the practicalities of a situation. He has been doing it for a year or more by now he supposes.

He'll worry about that later.

Right now he's balanced precariously on the back of a sofa reaching up for the fire alarm screwed into the wall.]

If I break my neck after surviving combat and zombies, I will be so annoyed.

[Jack's bracing him, foot on the sofa and hands solidly grabbing the hips of his trousers, looking back now and then around the abandoned flat.]

Don't you dare, Sam Yao. Who else is going to help me make noisemakers? Never mind you're the only guy around here small enough for me to spot.

I am kind of the expert on noisemakers I guess, since Janine isn't here.

[He gave a noise of protest which made him wobble before he righted himself.]

Hey! I am not that small. I'm just... Asian.

Efficient.

[He chimes in mock-helpfully, grinning teasingly.]

If I wasn't so worried about falling, I would kick you right now.

[He glowers down at Jack for a moment.]

And I think that stereotype is Japanese anyway. Which I'm not. Also, not efficient if you've ever listened to Janine which I know you have.

[Jack gives a little snort, craning his head to look up at what San's doing.]

Not to listen to her, you wouldn't.

[Sam snorts, but doesn't reply for a moment; he just about has that last screw out and- got it! He hops back down onto the sofa and then onto the floor with his prize.]

I've heard it enough. 'Don't touch those buttons, Mr Yao. Don't eat Marmite in here, Mr Yao. Mr Yao, what are you doing to my equipment?!'

I know! Like you aren't in there for the express purpose of doing things to the equipment!

[He helps Sam down, making sure he's stable before accepting the screwdriver and taking to one of the light switches. The noisemakers aren't very nuanced, and having a switch to turn them on and off is the best way to make them user-friendly. Not everyone wants to be barehanded and patching wires in the field.]

I know! I mean, I have to be in there, pressing buttons, occasionally fiddling with wires.

[Sam sits down and starts to pull apart the fire alarm, ready for Jack to re-wrie the switch into it.]

[Jack crouches next to him once he has his prize, pulling free the leather roll he'd jammed into the back of his trousers and unrolling it with a practised flick of the wrist. It's just the basic essentials, wire cutters and strippers and every other kind of hand tool, even a roll of electrician's tape held in place by a cleverly-placed loop.]

I think giving Eugene and I the shack was her sort of giving up. Safe place where I couldn't ruin anything else or set anything on fire too badly.

[Sam leans over to peer at the roll, impressed despite himself. If engineering had been more like this, he might have paid more attention.]

Yeah, I remember that time you nearly electrocuted yourself. She uh... had a few choice words.

[Jack bursts out laughing at that, the memory still vivid despite having been half stunned and entirely terrified at the time, and he spits a fair imitation of their own beloved property-owner's best icy contemptuousness.]

Mister Holden. If you're so determined to kill yourself, you can walk out those gates and at least draw off some of the undead as a last charitable act. And even if you aren't, I'll toss you out there myself if you threaten to short out my equipment again.

[He grins, nudging the tools toward Sam in a none-too-subtle invitation to try for himself. Teach a man to fish, and all that. (God, that one wasn't Japanese too, right?)]

She dragged me to Doctor Myers right after, though.

Oh my god, that is creepy, Jack! Stop it!

[He's laughing though, and he reaches for one of the tools to help with creating their noisemakers.]

She does care, even if she's a bit prickly.

She does. Can't help but trust a lady who'll curse you out like that.

[He rocks back onto his heels, watching Sam work, smiling slowly as he patches in the switch. Maybe it's not much to him, but to Jack, making things that do stuff out of little bits of scrap is still a small miracle, every time.]

Anyway, I didn't mean that efficiency comment . . . you know. Racially. It just, there's not much use use in being tall where we're from, is there?

And who lets you camp out on her lawn while the hordes of the undead clamour at the gates.

[His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he works, concentrating. He should be better at this but, well, electrical engineering was not his strong suit.

He rolled his eyes and gave Jack a sardonic look.]

I know, Jack, it's okay. I'm just teasing. Funny, race kind of stops mattering after the apocalypse. Or it does at Abel 'cause I think the Major would throw anyone who made a deal out of it out of the gate.

[Jack relaxes a little, minutely. Not that he was tense and worried all over to start, but there was still a relief in knowing he hadn't just made an arse of himself.]

Yep! Right into the wondrous diversity of the zombie hordes.

Everyone's equal when you're a shambling corpse.

. . . huh. There's a bit of zom philosophy for you.

Just you wait, one day there'll be entire schools of philosophy born out of the zombie apocalypse. Stuff like... like... the Tao of the Undead.

Taoism is the one that's like . . . moving with nature, right? All that passive stuff.

[Sam shrugs.]

I dunno. I just saw it on a book. The Tao of Pooh, or something.

[This face, Sam. Just . . . this face.]

. . . what?

What? Why are you looking at me like that?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zompania Draft - Draftees only, days 1-3.5

Day 3

Day 3

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Re: Day 3

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