@cjk [ audio ]

[signifies]

Hello everyone. My name is Clark. I'll try and keep this brief.

Firstly, I've drawn up a blank list and placed one on the bulletin board on each housing floor. If those with medical expertise feel comfortable, they can put their name, residence here, and — if they have one — specialisation, in case of an emergency. We have several residents who aren't from the same point in time, so if you'd like to volunteer to update someone's medical knowledge, please mark your name with an asterisk.

Secondly, ah-- [ a bit of a laugh. ] I'm from Kansas, which some of you might recognise as being host to some pretty bad weather. Now, I'm not going to say I'm paranoid, but-- I like to think ahead. So, I've made up some kits with some of the usual survival paraphernalia back home and distributed them between floors. Feel free to help yourselves if you need them.

[ No one has to use them, but he’d rather everyone knows they're available. ]

Thank you for your time.

( all replies in audio unless otherwise stated )

Comments

[pundemic]

[Her hand goes to it automatically. Her shirt must have ridden up or something, and so she fusses to pull it back down.

Sort of defensively,]

Yeah. Why? It's not like I'm planning on using it.

[You know. Unless she has to.]

[signifies]

[ Clark glances at it, but looks at her. ]

Since we're going out, I thought you might want to get a holster for it. They have some for knives as well.

[pundemic]

I reaaaally don't think they'd agree to sell one to a fifteen year old. If there's one thing I've learned it's that kids with guns sort of freak people out.

[But in answer to his second statement, she shakes her head and pulls out her switchblade.]

Doesn't need one, see? Blade only comes out if you press right here.

[signifies]

[ Clark's brow furrows, grief silent only for the world that did this to her. He could offer to get one, but it's probably better to let her take that step.

She didn't want him carrying bags. ]

If you change your mind, let me know.

[pundemic]

[He means well. It's why she doesn't just tell him to mind his own damn business despite the obvious temptation.]

It's fine, Clark. I promise. Okay? If it makes you uncomfortable I'll-- take the clip out or something while we're hanging out.

[signifies]

[ He shakes his head, smiling at her. For as long as he can remember, his mother was the sharpshooter in the house. Guns aren't an issue. Her feeling comfortable is.

She uses her room, but does she sleep on the bed or tucked in a corner against the wall, one hand on her rifle? ]

It doesn't bother me. I just thought a holster might make it easier for you to wear under your coat.... or if you wanted more than one.

[pundemic]

[Suspicious l'il squint.]

Do they even make them in my size?

[signifies]

No reason we can't ask for a custom design.

[pundemic]

[She just. Laughs and shakes her head.]

You are one seriously nice dude. Are you sure you're not some weird robot? Or like an alien? 'Beepboop I come in peace-zork'.

[She absolutely says that in her best impression of what a robot alien might sound like.]

[signifies]

[ Clark was walking on the side of the road nearest the asphalt, careful not to block her line of sight, noting places she could hide or escape to.

She has no idea how close to the truth she is: There's always that little internal wince: someone finding out about him, knowing what he can do. Clark thinks he's probably tell her first, out of anyone here.

He leans in, smiling broadly and gestures in the Vulcan salute. ]

Beep boop. You got me. Take me to your leader zork.

[pundemic]

[He's subtle enough about it that she doesn't notice he's doing it. She doesn't even stop to think it might be something he'd consider, but true to form she's busy keeping an eye out anyway. She eyeballs every alley they pass, skirts around the storm drains like she's seen one too many horror movies. She never looks just ahead, she's constantly checking reflections in storefront windows or particularly shiny chrome bits on cars. It's not even a conscious thing, just run of the mill hypervigilant threat-assessment.

When she's not doing that, she's kicking rocks along the pavement. You know, teenager things.]

What if I am the leader, huh? Supreme Battle Commander Ellie Williams. 'Come with me if you want to live', that sort of thing.

[signifies]

[ Clark chooses the route with some more parked cars for this reason.

And Terminator isn't about aliens. ]

Greetings, Supreme Battle Commander Williams. I come in peace.

[ Clark is wearing a perfectly straight face. ]

[pundemic]

[This is nice. Joel-- he's not really the sort that plays back at her, so Ellie's grin is warm and genuine. It's been a long fucking time since she could just... you know, goof off with somebody.

But the idea of keeping it up is exhausting. Sometimes she thinks that she just doesn't have it in her anymore. To be happy. To stay that way. Like... she left some part of herself behind as that-- fucker burned in that old restaurant. Nothing she used to enjoy holds her attention like it used to. Who the fuck do you become, after shit like that happens? What does it turn you into? Don't you get any say in yourself anymore?

The smile fades a little, and she finds herself wishing she had something to do with her hands so she can stop focusing on how it felt to feel blood and bone and brain dry across her knuckles in the searing cold.]

There's this comic series I like-- Savage Starlight? And it's all about this Doctor like... two hundred years in the future, fighting these evil aliens. I think about that a lot.

[signifies]

[ 'Evil aliens'. The only kind that no one's guilty about fighting, hurting, or taking trophies from.

Plenty of people hate Zod, but they didn't see how the loss of Krypton had torn him apart, or understood what kind of pain that was. In a life without the Kents, Clark wonders if that's what he'd be. ]

I'm not familiar. What's it about?

[pundemic]

Oh, you know.

[She flaps a hand, thumbs at her nose as she steps quickly past an alleyway, her other hand resting against the small of her back like she's half-assing some kind of parade rest military pose, but really she's just ready to reach for that gun.]

You can read them if you want. They're in my backpack. I just thought the exploring was cool, you know? Seeing other worlds.

[Ones that aren't a gutted, rotting husk of what they used to be. Ones the Infection has never touched.]

[signifies]

We can look through them after we're finished with the kits.

[ Her enthusiasm hasn't been tainted, though the rest of her is scarred from her experience. Clark found a lot of joy in Lois' wonder at his world, when the sky was done falling, and he sees this as no different. ]

You know... you can ask about my world.

[ Whatever humans have done or will do, he loves Earth. ]

If you want.

[pundemic]

[She had a thousand questions, once. A million. But it all boils down to this: people like David were made by what the world used to be. Which means, when you peel back the fresh coat of paint and the bright city lights, how the fuck could it have been any better really? People just hid their ugliness. Joel and his 'I've been on both sides'. She doesn't like to think about the fact that the one person in the world who gives a shit about her has done awful things, but she can't escape or ignore it, either. Joel's a killer. So's she. Endure and survive.

She scrubs a hand through her hair, straightens her off-center ponytail.]

I dunno, dude. What's to ask?

[And what difference does her knowing it make?]

[signifies]

[ He shrugs minutely. ]

Pumpkin pie.

[ Pumpkins take up a lot of space. In a world where resources would be scarce, Clark can't see anyone justifying growing them. ]

[pundemic]

Well, you already promised to make me some, so... unless you think I need some kind of advanced warning, like, 'it'll blow your fucking socks off, Ellie, so wear two pairs that day' or something?

[He seems kind of down about it. She reaches over to shove at his shoulder playfully. This was exactly why she didn't want to tell him about the Infection.]

C'mon, man, it's not like it's that bad. This way it's like... everything's new! I get to see it all for the first time. That's pretty awesome, right?

[signifies]

[ He's not down, just thinking. He has a strong sense of kinship with this girl, experiencing all this for the first time.

It must be terrible to look at what should be known and familiar, feeling neither of those emotions.

Not for the first time, he wishes his father's AI had survived Zod's attack. ]

Pretty cool. Here's the tarp, which one should we get?

[pundemic]

[She starts fussing with them, testing the weight of them with her fingers, checking the sizes printed on the little cardboard labels plastic-wrapped against them. Finally, she points to a blue one.]

That one. Twelve by sixteen, blue's better because water won't evaporate as fast as it will off the black, and it's not as visible as the orange if you need to build a shelter in a hurry. Decent weight, heavy duty grommets.

[She sounds like a tarp salesman. Okay then. But she does slap her hand down against it as if she's claiming alien territory for her very own, so there you go.]

[signifies]

[ Clark nods. They're being trailed by a helpful salesman, who comes forward to fold up a few for them. ]

Now for rope. Thirty feet, you said?

[pundemic]

At least, yeah. More if there are any cliffs around or anything. And it should have a decent weight limit.

[She eyeballs him curiously, reaches out to poke at him. He's mostly muscle, but he hasn't given her the impression he ever had to skip a meal out of necessity rather than choice.]

You're, what, 230? You're probably one of the bigger guys here, so I'd say at least triple that just to be on the safe side. Maybe... I dunno, half inch nylon?

[signifies]

I haven't seen any cliffs.

[ Of course she's assessed the size of everyone, and her mind determined how best to attack, or hide, should it be necessary. ]

And last on the list, dental floss? How much of that do we need?

[pundemic]

Flashlights. Shake-to-charge, those too. Dental floss is just-- eh, a few containers? They're small and it's useful, go nuts.

[Her eye's been caught by a bike. Nothing fancy, just something in a dark purple blue strung up in some sort of hanging shelf. The air smells like fresh rubber and she wanders towards it in absentminded curiousity.]