midpointsaloon | Welcome To Your Life (Jailbreak Mingle)

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Welcome To Your Life (Jailbreak Mingle)

You find yourself in jail. An old-fashioned, dusty jail: three cells wide, six foot to a side and below ground level, judging from the tiny barred window half a foot from the ceiling, that looks out onto a flat expanse. Shimmering heat waves are already starting to form, the sun already burning hot, but your cell is comfortably cool and dry.

And empty. The only things in your cell are a sturdy plank bench, chained to the wall like a hammock, a solid-looking pillow and a hairy blanket sitting thereon. Any items you might have had on your person are sitting on the wall opposite your cell, nearly four feet away from the iron bars holding you: propped up on wooden shelves, hanging from thick metal hooks, or sitting on the floor if the item is particularly large.

Outside the occasional jangle of leather and metal, and the occasional chuffing breigh suggests that there must be horses outside, but otherwise the area is silent. Before too long, though, there's the sound of footsteps and jangling keys echoing from upstairs, getting louder and clearer as someone makes their way down to you...

I. Sooey Jail

The view from the windows drops off quite suddenly, about a mile past the bare scrubland bushes and occasional screeching roadrunner. In the distance, a plume of smoke is the only sign of a freight train rushing along its tracks, until the faint echo of its whistle hits the ear. While Inara Serra will likely be entirely unimpressed by the lacking cell, Daylight vis Lornlit will find it's far too small for him. Bucky Barnes is near silent as he dismounts outside.

II. Southern Point

The walls of the cells here are distinctly discoloured to nearly five feet high, an ugly brown with black mold growing in the cracks around the benches and corners of the room. The air is musty and damp, in sharp contrast to the hot, dry wind that blows in through the windows. Quicksword Irene will find her ever-present claymore on the wrong side of the bars, but Hajime Aikawa has company behind his - Ryo has come along, too. The sound of Fuwa tying his horse up is interrupted by a sharp yelp of annoyance.

III. Mountain Hole

The windows are cast in shade in these morning hours, which makes the cells distinctly cooler than the glimpses of clear blue sky and rolling heat waves suggest. Fully grown trees with needle-like leaves are visible outside, and the keen might just hear the echo of a chugging train. Taako will no doubt find the scene familiar; Yoda as well, if less sandy than some oft complained about; Jiro Azuma is undoubtedly the most confused here. Rocket and Groot can be heard outside, approaching and bickering.

IV. Dead Man's Doorstep

The higher the sun rises, the warmer it gets in the cells; even before midday it's unspeakably stuffy, and the hot breeze carries light waves of sand into the cells. The sound of ropes creaking, gentle and intermittent, under the strain of something heavy echoes through the cells, adding a disconcerting background noise to the already alarming context. Jo Harvelle will find sand in her hair; Sara Lance finds it everywhere else. Outside, Misty Day and Sam Wilson tie their horses together, and brace for their new teammates.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

None of them. But it happens, anyway. Better to die clean than get punished for not cooperating.

[Yeah, they can tell she's tense. It's not hard to believe, anyway: this is a scary situation she just got dropped in. And Soldat doesn't normally do this very well, anyway. They haven't had to do a new person besides Sam in at least a year.]

The missions are anything from rob a bank to blow up a train, to stopping those things from happening. We're set against another team each time.

Blow up a train-

[Inara almost laughs in disbelief. Somehow, though, that isn't the most pressing question.]

Set against each other by whom? Why?

[This is so many words. They're not used to talking this much. Even with Misty and Sam, they understand and give them space, time. Soldat gives her a kind of helpless look.]

Can I explain it all. After our other teammate wakes up?

[They look over at the far cell finally, and.

Stop. Stare.

Because they know that robot. Who isn't awake yet. Jesus Christ how is this even happening. First Misty, then Sam, now Daylight? ... Daylight with different colors and no lantern?

Even with as subtle as Soldat's expressions usually are, Inarra can clearly read shock, hope, and dismay on their face. When words come out a moment later, they're choppy:]

We should. Go upstairs. Until he wakes up.

[That pile of garbage in the other cell is a person? Is he okay? The questions are still building up in her head - along with a headache and some rising panic at what's increasingly looking like an even worse situation than she'd imagined - but Inara’s worked with enough trauma survivors to recognize that she's been pushing too hard. This person is not her enemy, at least not right now.]

Of course. I'll get my things.

[The only things they'd taken from her were a couple of particularly sharp hairpins and her knife in its concealed sheath, so she’ll be quick about it.]

[It's so nice having somebody who actually understands things like that. Soldat tears their gaze away from Daylight's weird-colored form, and starts up the stairs up once Inara seems to have herself put back together.

The room above is smaller than the ones below, and consists of a single chair at a single big desk with a folder of papers on it, barred windows at each side, one door, and a variety of boxes and shelves with clothing, weaponry, and various other standard supplies waiting to be rifled through.

Soldat taps the folder on the desk, the pushed it Inara's way.]

[Inara is putting the finishing touches on a slightly more elaborate braided hairstyle when she reaches the top of the stairs. There's no evidence visible that she picked up the knife.

She approaches the folder with a professional interest - not that this is anything like it but starting out with a dossier kind of feels like her old job - only to recoil upon actually reading it. She shoves the folder in the other direction as if that actually makes a difference and walks across the room to check out the boxes.]

[Soldat sighs a little at her expression. It's not like they don't understand. Their first few rounds were terrible, until they just kind of gave up.]

I know. If it makes you feel better. We aren't supposed to hurt her. And she's probably expecting it, so we're not actually going to. You know. Scare her.

What am I supposed to do with that?

[They're both victims in this, so she tries to keep the anger out of her voice, but this really is crazy.]

I don't know how to - I'm an accountant!

It's a game. A challenge. For someone's entertainment. You don't have to be good at it.

[Soldat shakes their head, a sliver of attention on the cells below, listening for Daylight. They leave the file where it is, going to collect a heavier jacket and a small pistol for her.]

I've done it enough times, anyway. I'll show you both what to do.

What sort of punishment can be worse than dying for someone's entertainment?

[Inara has died before, just once, at the hands of a woman who had smiled and chatted with her while feeding her enough poison to kill an elephant. It's an experience she's not looking forward to repeating.]

[Soldat's died before too. ... loads of times. They'll at least have that in common. Kind of.]

Dying's over quick. Punishment lasts hours. Days, sometimes. Not that you know how long it is. It just kind of keeps happening. It's pretty awful. Generally us players just call it bad jail.

[A nod at the stairs down.]

This is just normal jail.

[The thought of what kind of punishment might last days is so horrifying that for now, she doesn't address it.]

Why do they lock us up like that? So we won't go wandering into the desert?

Aesthetic.

[It comes out bone dry. Then, less bitterly, they add,]

Also, yes, because otherwise new people will all run off without getting instruction. Without getting collected by one of the other players. Here.

[They offer her a suede jacket and a broad-brimmed hat.]

Against sunburn.

Thank you.

[She pulls on the jacket and holds the hat in both hands. There's a long pause afterward, and she seems to be searching his face for evidence of something. When she speaks, it's very quiet.]

Are we real?

[That... is not an easy question. Especially for Soldat, who has wrestled with personhood for a long time, and also was basically a magical clone created from lingering lifeforce after dying, last new world they woke up in.

So after a pause where they look firmly at her shoulder instead of her face, they say quietly,]

I don't know how we'd know that. If we weren't. I wasn't real before I came here. Am I real now? Are you? I don't know. Feels real, though.

[Yeah, it was kind of stupid to imagine that it would be that simple.]

It would be nice to think that there's a real me back where I came from, and no one's worried.

[Also complicating the situation: multi-universe theory. Sam has already told them that his version of Soldat is alive and, if not well, at least aiming towards it, and reunited with Steve. So there may well be a pretty lady somewhere whose friends aren't worried.

Not likely anyone worried in Soldat's universe. Not after they killed Steve. S Soldat can say, after a moment of working past an unexpected lump in the throat,]

I hope so, too. For you. I'm sure you've got plenty of friends to worry.

Thank you.

[Inara’s quiet for a bit after that, twisting the hat back and forth in her hands. It's hard not to think about her friends back home or the ones on the world she’d just left.]

Do they tell you anything about us before you go to retrieve us?

No. All I get is one of these.

[They toss the hand-written note with instructions on it onto the desk for her to see. It reads simply: Please collect your teammates at Sooey Jail. Round 84 begins in 2 days. Good luck! While she examines that, Soldat collects a pistol for her and loads it up.]

Do you know how to shoot?

I was wondering whether you knew my name. Inara.

[Even the sight of the handgun, knowing it's for her, makes her vaguely nauseous. Good luck with this.]

I know the theory behind it. In practice I'm more of an archer.

Inara. It's nice to meet you. ... sort of nice. This isn't a nice situation.

[But she seems very kind. They look between her expression and the gun, frown a little.]

We can see if there's a bow and quiver when we get to town, maybe.

[They're still going to offer the gun to her, though, holding it by the barrel so she can take the stock.]

Until then, though.

[She takes the pistol as if she's grabbing a snake by the tail, but then looks it over with a little more confidence before shoving it into the pocket of her jacket.]

Thank you. Should I take some ammunition as well, or is that easy enough to acquire in town?

It's loaded, but if you want more, that's--

[They turn, picking up another shabby little box from the box they'd been at a minute before.]

--this. We'll see about a bow and arrow, though. Even if there isn't one today. There may be tomorrow. Or next week. Weird new things come in all the time.

[And he knows where some of the special vendors are, if nothing does come in.]

[She's not expecting to fire it, but she's definitely learned that in places like these you end up doing a lot of things that you weren't expecting.]

I used to compete when I was young, but I have used a bow of sorts in combat before.

[Once, and she had very nearly died doing it, but he doesn't need to know that.]

If we're very lucky. You won't need to fire anything on this mission, either. Might be able to be sneaky about it.

[They get a box of ammunition for themselves, too, tucking it into a pocket. For Inara, they fish a small satchel out of a box. She'll need that, too, if she wants to carry anything. That dress doesn't look like it has pockets.]

I've done a lot of these. Years worth. There's ways to do them without killing people, especially if the other team isn't smart.

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