So who talks first? | Calibrations

[happybeeps]

WHO: Poe Dameron, OPEN
WHERE: Poe's Calibration room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: 3 June - 10 June
WARNINGS: Torture, War, Weapons of Mass Destruction



You step out into a hangar, half sheltered, but open to the air along one side. The sky is blue, and in the distance there's scattered chatter from resistance members passing by as Poe and BB-8 work. Poe's perched atop the broken wing of his X-wing, scorch marks on her belly suggesting they'd recently come out of a tough scrape.

Poe's still half in his flight suit, the upper half tied round his waist, his old jacket sitting off to the side, draped over a ladder rung with care. There's scattered tools and wires to navigate, a makeshift workbench set up with his helmet and blaster abandoned there, next to his data pad which flashes at him with some unread message, though Poe seems to be pointedly ignoring it. Looking quite out of place, there's a tooka doll, not the sort of sentiment one might associate with Poe, and beside it, and old model of an A-Wing.

Comments

[happybeeps]

'Plasma'. He can affirm that much. The droid tries to explain the exact make up, but it's a complicated thing. Either way, Ren stopping it is something entirely untold of before now.

Two troopers jog over to Poe, socking him in the stomach and hauling him up after he fell, the grip over him apparently let go.

Poe stares at the frozen blaster bolt as he's dragged past it, and BB-8 rolls along after to keep track of him as he's knocked to his knees before the hooded figure.

[doubled_speed]

Ugh, at least it's that. When BB-8 moves along, Tommy immediately follows. He's not letting his favorite droid be alone in this.

"Did you know about this specific chain of events before now?"

[happybeeps]

Plasma energy at least. The science of it is complicated.

There's a simple 'no' in response as he rolls along, and when he stops he looks back to the hills of sand, and then a string of beeps that seems to include the words 'far', 'rey', and 'resistance'.

Before them, Ren crouches to look at Poe, masked head tilting, a silence stretching out before Poe broaches- "...So who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?"

"The old man gave it to you," Kylo realizes.

"It's just very hard to understand you with all the-"

"Search him," Ren interrupts, and two troopers grab Poe, hauling him back up to his feet.

"-Apparatus-es."

[doubled_speed]

"Yeah, the helmet would hamper conversation," Tommy sighs, pacing as he watches the whole thing. But sarcasm in the face of pain. Yeah, he gets that much.

"He didn't deserve this. He's doing a good thing, right? Poe's a good guy?"

[happybeeps]

The droid nods emphatically, speaking in smaller clipped words to make it easier for Tommy. 'Hero'. 'Brave'. 'Friend'.

The troopers pat Poe down roughly before reporting, "Nothing Sir."

"Put him on board." The order sounds almost bored as Poe is marched away.

A chrome plated soldier with a long cape approaches Ren, a hard feminine voice greeting him through her helmet. "Sir. The villagers?"

Kylo pauses briefly, and turns. "Kill them all."

The troopers encircling the villagers raise and cock their weapons, and pleas can be heard echoing out as the panic rises. One lone trooper hesitates, lost among the crowd.

"On my command," the woman continues calmly, "Fire." Red blaster bolts ring out, distinctly different from the blue of Poe's gun, and screams echo as Poe struggles against the troopers leading him into the ship, looking back in horror. "No- no."

[doubled_speed]

Things that were not right. This. Literally what he’s looking at right now. Tommy is left shaking as he sees it, and finally he looks away, tears in his eyes.

“They did nothing wrong. Fuck, they did NOTHING wrong.”

[happybeeps]

The ship doors close and Tommy is once more in the hangar bay, Poe climbing down from the X-wing and jogging over to his side.

"Kid- I'm sorry- I didn't want you to see that- You shouldn't be in here..."

[doubled_speed]

“Don’t,” Tommy hisses, jerking away from Poe. Because... well, he doesn’t need the comfort. “I’m not fucking so weak that I can’t handle a memory like that. I’ve seen bad shit, and that was nothing.”

That was a lie. But he still accepted it and shook his head.

“Sorry. This place is... it’s a mess. What the fuck is even going on? It’s almost like I’m in your damn head.”

[happybeeps]

Poe doesn't press, though he does arch a brow, giving BB-8 a pat and moving to sort through a box of parts.

"You are," he answers matter-of-factly.

[doubled_speed]

Uh... that makes no sense.

"Dude, I'm not a telepath."

[happybeeps]

Poe shrugs a shoulder. He doesn't know how it works. He just knows that this is all inside his mind.

"Does this seem like something you'd make up?"

[doubled_speed]

“I can count to a trillion in the time it takes a person to count a single second. Yeah, I make up a lot of shit. But this... is definitely different. Normally I just imagine a world where mutants aren’t treated like shit.”

[happybeeps]

Poe gestures out to the sky, to the unfamiliar plant life, to the two moons hanging over head.

"You didn't make this up. You're in here," he taps his temple, "Plus side, you're only mutant we've got now, so...percentage wise, I'd say your people are happy."

[doubled_speed]

"That's not true at all. We've got Billy. We also had Lorna and Mimic but... Guess this place doesn't keep us around either."

[happybeeps]

"In here," Poe repeats with a smirk. The only mutant in his mind, not the world outside this place.

"You want a way out?" he asks casually.

[doubled_speed]

Oh, well, that's fair. Yes, he felt like he had to make an argument otherwise.

"Yeah. No offense, your mind is pretty and spacious and all, but... Dude, it's so not for me."

[happybeeps]

"Here-" Poe grabs his rank badge from his things, pausing to turn the datapad over and hide the notification, passing the badge over. "That should open up the door for you. The sensor'll pick it up."

[doubled_speed]

Cool. Tommy nods and heads for the door.

"Thanks, man. Be good," he says, heading for the exit. "We'll talk later."