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[Intro Log #3] SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM.

INTRO LOG #03

Dropship

The new dropship touches down during the evening when the sky is beginning to get dark. It lands further out than usual, where the greenery and trees taper off into the desert sand. The most surprising thing about the ship's landing is that it does - in fact - land in one piece. It leaves the same crater beneath it as the others have, but there is no sheared metal or bent in portions of the ship to show that something has gone awry. There is simply the ship, groaning as it cools from its re-entry into the atmosphere. Despite the best landing so far, the power has failed aside from flashing alarm lights and an annoying warning sounding off every couple seconds.

The shock doesn't end there, the mysterious voice that Han Solo had contacted kept his... promise... instead of packages of trail mix there are boxes and boxes of cheese. On the foremost box is a note and written on it: "HAVE A LITTLE CHEESE WITH YOUR WHINE." Next to the boxes of cheese are stacks and stacks of canned spam. Delicious.

There is only a single person on the dropship but he is supplied with the typical backpack. What's different is the .22 tucked safely inside next to a box of bullets. Inside the box of bullets there is an additional note, in different handwriting: "broadcast your needs." Cryptic but promising to anyone that knows what's going on. Someone was feeling merciful apparently.

The Welcome Party

All possible exits to the ship are closed, and if Carl feel like he's strong enough he can try to pry one of the doors open, but someone seems to get the same idea. Suddenly something is wedged between the door and where it lies before it's wrenched with a twisting metal noise. Then another crowbar is wedged far enough in to cause a gap that's quickly filled with a hook. Then another, and another. The same process. It takes a long time, but then the revving of an engine, a far too pleased yell and the door is yanked from its home.

Confetti pops and sounds, falling from a small space near the top of the door - another mockery from the man who left the harsher note, no doubt - that distracts the sudden strangers that are poking their heads into the ship, and staring up like they've been shown the light through their masks. The hatchets in their hands make it clear they're not there for hugs.

Besides the bandits, the drop-zone around the ship is completely silent, not a single infected in sight. It's like they're all busy with something else.

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Arrival - fresh to the outskirts of the oasis. send help?
[Huh. Wha- wha- what.

Truth is that's the clearest thought Carl Grimes can come up with from the moment his awareness seems to be working for him again. But really how can you blame him when he doesn't know how he came to be in a strange metal craft in the place first. He was home with his baby sister just a minute ago as far as he remembers, and now he wasn't.

The sudden change of scenery alone causes him to panic and scramble around his surroundings, first eyeing the spam and cheese strangely and then picking up the backpack to search through. All the contents inside the bag are mostly ignored since he digs for what he can see is the most useful thing first. It's a good thing too as it seems like just when he finds the .22 in his bag, there is already the noise of strangers outside working to pull off the door.

Thankfully it takes them a long time to accomplish that as Carl knows the sounds of strangers outside doesn't necessarily mean friends who have come to help and at least has the time to gather his wits about him. That said, he snaps his head to the door and pushes aside all his confusion and afraid feelings, the ones that were just about to sink in, to do what he knows best:

Act. Survive at all costs. Do something. In case he's right about the people outside not being his friends. (You get the idea.)

He fishes out the gun and some bullets, dropping the bag to load the weapon, and then waits to see if he's facing friend or foe. When the door finally does go down, he takes a deep breathe, finger waiting just off the trigger because he's not sure who or what he'll see.

(It's safe to assume he fires at the bandits with the hatchets and ~~scary~~ masks.)]

Timeskip to the Wall and City
[A part of him still couldn't believe the state of things he saw when he passes under the wall, but he couldn't deny his own two eyes; the City at first sight was in ruin compared to his home, whatever side of the world it was on, he thought. Everything was almost dusty at a glance and covered with overgrown plants.

Honestly, Carl was shocked, but at the same time almost mesmerized with taking in it all. People really lived here and thrived, he asked himself quietly in his head, and knew they did. The faces and clothing of some people, none of which he really recognized, hinted at that much as he continued walking forward.

It felt weird being like the new kid on the block all over again so with some people he comes into eye contact with, he smiles a little nervously, while only sometimes averting his eyes, in an effort to be somewhat friendly. If he's learned one thing by now after all, it's that not everyone who survives is bad.]

Wildcard
[Feel free to change up a little to scenario a or b above, or make your own. Not sure what's okay? PM me. It's all cool.]

[Daryl got his wits about him as the last of the desert bandits went down or ran off. Only a couple had the sense to bolt. The others were too focused on trying to get what they could. Daryl knew it would be smarter to go after them, but he was also pretty distracted himself by the damn hat he'd seen the apparently lone occupant of the ship wearing. That and the obvious gun fire.

Retrieving the few arrows he'd fired from his nerf bow (which was probably going to need a new string soon, and Daryl had no idea where he'd find one), he headed for the cargo hold of the ship and popped it open. The boxes inside looked like the normal fair. They could beat the shit out of the ship and turn some of it into a sled to haul it back later. That the boxes were intact was a good sign.

After that, he headed for the door of the ship and the owner of that stupid hat...]

Carl?

[Carl may have good instincts not to shoot at everything he sees but he's on sort of a roll and the adrenalines kicked in, so when he hears his name he turns and does damn near shoot. The only thing that stops him really is the familiar face and, well, the lack of a creepy mask on the person he sees.

His eyes widen in surprise to see its Daryl when it registers with this brain a second later. And while he doesn't quite lower the gun in his hands in response, he does tentatively move his finger off the trigger.]

Daryl!?

[Holy cow! Did he just ever avoid the worst accident possible, he thinks.]

[Daryl dropped his hand away from his knife and put that hand in the air. The other still held his modified nerf bow in a loose grip.]

Easy, kid.

[After a second, he dropped his hand lifted his chin toward the gun while he closed the gap between them.]

Looks like someone liked you. First workin' gun we seen down here since the first of us dropped. Rick ain't in there with you, is he?

Edited 2016-04-09 03:11 (UTC)

[Okay, he lowers his gun a little after all because of Daryl's reaction just now. Not too much though because he isn't sure the area is clear of the freaks with masks yet.]

How did you get here? [He asks, almost stupidly. What he means to ask though is how the both of them got there, but the answer for one of them seems to go hand in hand with the other so he doesn't bother correcting himself.

After a moment, he shakes his head to answer his archer friend. He means to indicate he doesn't understand half of what Daryl just said and he hasn't seen his dad either. Obviously he's still in the dark to everything and growing more confused now that he isn't shooting at freaks.]

What do mean someone liked me? [He knows Daryl doesn't mean the girl (Clarke) because the archer talked about the gun that was mysteriously supplied to him, so his mind just draws a blank and his expression turns more puzzled.] It was just in a bag where I woke up...

[He shakes his head again.] It's just me.

Got dropped in one of these- [Daryl lifted his hand to pat the metal at the top of the door frame.] -about two months ago. Me and Glenn and some others you don't know. You're the first the assholes what's behind it left a gun with. Rest of us been making do.

[Hence the powder blue, lavender, and pink nerf bow dangling from Daryl's other hand. At least he'd managed to get wicked long metal spikes attached to the "arrow" tips.]

Guess it means they're sending us down in waves. Me and Glenn got here first, then... then Maggie, then Carol.

[He'd almost said Beth, but that was something he didn't think he needed to hit Carl with right away.]

Other folks we don't know. This is the third ship carrying extra food they dropped, too. If it's anything like the last couple, it'll be enough to hold us over with what we can hunt and find here until the next big one comes. And 'fore you ask, no, I don't know why we're being put here or who's doing it. They ain't the talkative sort and we only just got a radio working to make contact anyway.

[Carl's eyes follow Daryl's hand to the door frame as he fills in the blanks for him. He is able to follow along for the most part and nods a couple times as a result, though some parts still makes no sense. Like how anyone did this to them or how Daryl claims to have been brought here two months ago when he is sure he saw him no more than a day ago. None of it makes sense so he decides to focus on what matters first.]

So Glenn, Maggie and Carol are with you. [He sighs in relief. It's not everyone but it's less people on his mind to worry about per se.]

What other folk? [He asks, before his eyes turn over to food he saw before, nodding. He won't ask about why they're there then, instead just waves his hand to the spam and cheese and then over to the backpack on the floor.] There's all that. I don't know if it'll last. There's more bullets in the bag too.

[He's not sure how many, but it's a small supply compared to anything they had/brought in Alexandria.]

[Daryl glanced over at the girl that had gotten to Carl first. The one who wasn't one of theirs]

People like her.

[But back to the gun situation.]

If that's all you got, we'll have to conserve it. Get you a couple knives. Maybe one of the short spears we been making. Don't know when they'll send down more.

[He glanced around inside the ship.]

You the only one in there at all?

[People like her. He should have known that'd be the answer, so he feels kind of stupid for asking and just bobs his head. Moving on, though. He can agree with Daryl now that he knows knives and stuff are an option.]

Yeah. That makes sense. I was just thinking about taking one of theirs. [He waves at the one or two weapons the mask freaks carried that were on the ground. This is before he turns and walks over to pick up the backpack for something to collect things.]

Uh-huh. I'm the only one.

They're heavy.

[It was Daryl's only word on the weapons the cannibals used. If Carl wanted one, he wasn't going to stop the kid. Just give him fair warning that they weren't quite what any of them had been used to.]

You lucked out on that, too. Last couple ships like this, there were dozen or more extra passengers that didn't make it.

[Could have been a lot worse.]

What's the last thing you remember before waking up in there?

[He gives a raised look as if to say 'really?' to Daryl's comment on how heavy the weapons are, before going along with forgetting about them. Wouldn't do him any good if he couldn't lift let alone swing his weapon anyway, right. He'll just go with the knives the archer mentioned, he thinks to himself. Save all the space in his backpack for the food.

He crinkles his nose a little at the mention of extra passengers that didn't make it. The death of people, strangers or otherwise, never did sit well with him, though. And neither does the image of being sandwiched between facing creepy masked people and about to turn dead people.]

I wouldn't any of this is really lucky, but maybe it's just a little the way you describe it.

[He can agree to that much.

Daryl's next question comes off as a little funny because on one hand there's the two months Daryl just said he was here for, but on the other hand it wasn't so weird as it was not like Daryl would know everything he was doing. He raises his brow.]

Being at home, with Judith. Why?

Cause none of the rest of us can remember being knocked out or dragged here, just something we were doing and then waking up in one of them ships. Trying to see if anyone can remember anything more. Help figure this out.

[It wasn't a problem that Carl can't remember anything in between. No one could.]

From what Carol and Maggie said, most of us were taken around the same time. Just got no memory of being in a forced coma or whatever it was they been doing between the drops.

[Well that certainly answers that. Not a one of them remembers anything and asking anything else about it would only prove to get them going in circles, so nods and switches focus.]

It sounds that way... Anyways, we should get the food, right? And go...

[Well, he doesn't know where they've camped out, but he means to go where ever there is. He's kind of eager to see the others faces again.]

Gonna have to make a couple trips, but yeah.

[Daryl reached over and slightly smushed Carl's hat against his head. Sure it probably came across like him treating the kid like he was a lot younger, but mostly it was Daryl just affirming that Carl was real. That he had another member of his family there to protect.]

Glad to see you.

Even with all of us? Or...the others you spoke of.

[He was about to turn and look back quizzically at the food supply to try get a count how many of them it would it take, but that's when his hat is smushed in front of his eyesight a little. He knows it's a friendly and harmless gesture so he doesn't take personally, but that doesn't mean he won't complain with a-]

Hey! [His hands fly up to straighten the hat up without a thought, but then he kind of huffs with a laugh at the last thing Daryl says. He gets it now.] Yeah. Glad to see you, too.

Yeah. There's only about fifteen of us, counting you.

[He snorted in a rare chance at amusement to Carl's protest. Made the trip out to the ship worth it.]

Come on, let's get this done.

Only fifteen?

[Whoa. He wasn't expecting such a large number, even including himself and Carol, Glenn, and Maggie. He moves though to continue packing whatever he can.]

'Kay. Moving on it.

[Seems to make sense to switch between grabbing cheese and spam, until his backpack is full.]

a week and a half after his arrival, two days after finding out about Beth
[It took a while after being told about her to bring himself to get his head around it and go up to her, but today was the day he finally did it. Of course he saw her a bunch of times between finding out about her and now and each time made him feel less and less strange about seeing her alive and more guilty about how she was bringing herself to avoid him, and finally he could't take it anymore. When he sees her next, he stops a minute and then slowly makes his way up to her.

He has no idea what she's up to, but not wanting to scare her he clears his voice as he approaches.]

Beth... [He calls out tentatively, tilting his head a little to the side. Already this felt like the awkwardest conversation he'd ever have, but they needed to talk and he still cared about her enough to try pushing past the weirdness of it.]

[It's been hard on her, having so many people from home show up here. She cares about all of them, but after Daryl and Glenn's reactions to her being alive and here she doesn't want to upset anyone else. So she tries to keep to herself as much as possible, staying busy so she doesn't wind up looking pathetic and stupid. If she wants Daryl and the others to believe she's strong, she needs to prove it.

So she finds herself chores to do every day and sticks to doing them, collapsing in an exhausted heap late at night to avoid having too much quiet time to think and make herself sad. She's in the middle of cleaning out a portion of the warehouse when she hears him approaching, but stays focused on working so she doesn't get herself involved in a conversation where she ends up feeling broken.

But then Carl approaches her, and she's surprised by it. Still holding onto some old papers, she lifts her head to look up at him, caution written all over her face.]

Carl, hey.

[Unsure of what to do with the papers in her hands, she turns for a moment to find somewhere to set them.]

You settling in okay?

[He's settling in well enough given that it isn't new to him, he thinks, and so he nods to her. Though this whole thing with trying to talk to her is still a bit awkward so there's a delay between that nod and his own response.]

... Yeah.

[He approaches just a little bit more before stopping when she looks at him, pocketing his hands in jeans as if to firmly plant himself in place then turn the other way out of nervousness. There's so many other words and ways he can describe this situation too.]

What about you? You okay? [~~...with being alive and not being dead and all.~~] With settling in.

Yeah.

[She echoes his answer, right down to the awkward pause and hesitation. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to him, she very much so does. It's that she isn't sure what to say to someone who thinks she's dead and has gone through the effort of burying and mourning her. It almost feels cruel to know that and be talking to him so casually.

At least with him in closer, she's able to look him over. He's the same Carl she remembers, but he carries himself a little more maturely. Knowing he does good for himself makes her smile, and she relaxes a little.]

You've gotten taller.

[And just like that, it's exactly how things used to be. She smiles more warmly and laughs, taking a step in closer to him. She doesn't want him to run away, so she needs to ease him into the fact that she's real and not a danger to him.]

[He is a little older and a little taller, and that she even points it out embarrass him a little. It also reminds him she's not, that she's the same as he remembers, and that's like a punch in his gut because he kind of feels responsible for not being able to do anything about her death. That's just the tip of the iceberg of everything he feels.

So he pauses again a little, before bobbing his head.]

You think? ...uh, you're probably right.

[The random conversation works for him, though. He doesn't mind her stepping closer to him, but isn't comfortable just yet to either smile at her or to talk about anything more.]

[This is so painfully awkward that she wishes he would get mad at her like Daryl did. Him being angry at her has to be easier than trying to act like she doesn't realize he doesn't want to look at her, because every time he does, he just sees a walking dead girl. ]

Well, you're taller than me now.

[Not that it's particularly a hard thing to do, given she's not all that tall. But she can tell that even talking about his height bothers him a little, so she shoves both of her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and turns away to go over and look out the nearby window. It might be easier on him if he doesn't have to look at her face.]

Have you gotten to go out and explore the city any since you've been here?

[Doesn't he know it. They're talking about his height of all things. They used to have better things to talk about even if it wasn't much. Off the top of his head, for instance: food, shelter, a deck of cards they found once, you name it. Anything is better.

So a part of him is thankful she switches the subject to something relatable, while the other part takes notice of her head turning away and frowns inwardly and as well as outwardly at himself. Sure this was all levels of awkward, but he didn't mean to make her feel self-conscious. He was trying to make this less weird for the both of them, after all.

So of course that and what she asks him gives him an idea.]

Some, but not a whole lot. I didn't wanna go too far without anyone, you know... How much did you explore?

[Maybe they can explore together if he can just get the words out, sooner or later.]

Spam in the place where I live now~
With the cannibals dead, and the ship emptied, all that was left was to go through and bring the supplies dropped with it back to the city. The spam was met with a raised eyebrow, but not one that was disapproving. Daryl actually liked the shit. Growing up where and how he did, it had pretty much been a staple of the dinner table when hunting wasn't good. And it kept pretty damn well, too.

The cheese was more the problem. It wouldn't keep and the assholes that sent the food down had sent way more cheese than they had spam. At least the trail mix kept reasonably well.

Daryl picked up one of the cheese bricks, looked at it, and dropped it with a muttered, "smartass."

For Clarke
The presence of the woman had not been lost on Daryl and while he couldn't claim to know her, he did remember seeing her briefly the night her ship had crashed. Minho had joined his group then. And the other two had ran off. He suspected they'd joined up with Lexa, but hadn't been able to verify that. With the woman having come around to the ship and subsequently helped save Carl from the bandits that had piled on, Daryl didn't have much reason to be all that suspicious of her.

She seemed like good people.

So after getting a decent headcount of the supplies they could strip from the ship, Daryl made his way to her. He nodded his head in greeting and opened up with: "You gonna take some of the cheese?"

Beth was helping gather the supplies, and was content to work in silence. She was attempting to cram as much as possible into her backpack, and as Daryl spoke she glanced up and looked over at him with a little smile on her face.

"What did that cheese ever do to you, Daryl Dixon?" She tried to sound amusingly scolding, like her daddy used to do with everyone back at the prison. Really, she couldn't help but sound anything but amused, because her using both his first and last name like that sounded ridiculous coming out of her mouth.

"Ain't the cheese I was talking to," he answered, voice raising so it could be heard easier. He shook the empty bag he'd grabbed off his shoulder and got to opening it up so he could join her in taking what they could for now. "This shit ain't going to keep as well as the trail mix did. Gonna get sick of it fast."

"Least it's food. Something to keep us going." That's all food had become, really. Fuel. It was a shame, because she could remember some amazing things she used to love eating. Like burgers, fries, and milkshakes. She wasn't ever going to get Dairy Queen again, but that was okay. Just as long as they had something to make it day to day.

Which made her think of something else she wanted to talk about with Daryl, she just wasn't sure how to approach the subject without making him feel sad. "There's less of us now. This might go a longer way than it would've before." It wasn't necessarily a good thing, because their dwindling numbers had her worried. She wanted to hear his opinion on it, though.

"Nah," he shook his head, sighing. "Not the cheese. The spam, maybe. But cheese'll go bad just as quick as it ever has without anything to keep it fresh. We got a week at best, assuming we can find a room that's relatively dry and cool. If we had a fridge that worked, we'd be okay. But right now?"

Daryl shook his head again. They'd basically gotten screwed as far as food went. The trail mix had been better for the sheer fact Daryl could hunt for the meat they needed. With spam, they'd have to get their assess moving on the garden and hope some of it started to come along faster than usual.

"We'll eat what we can, but ain't no use getting sick on it just to keep it from going to waste. It'll be wasting no matter what we do."

He didn't really want to dwell on the fewer mouths to feed thing. That was still bugging him. No signs of foul play, no trails to follow. No blood or bodies. Just gone. How was he supposed to keep the group safe if they kept disappearing on him?

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[Intro Log #3] SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM.

OTA

Arrival - post Clarke and Cannibals

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closed to beth

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