taxonomites | V. [Visual] lend me your feet and I will stand up for you

Sergeant John M. Sugihara had been in Taxon all of thirty minutes and he already needed a drink. Nothing made sense - this wasn't Fort Hood, where he had been just a second ago, and it certainly wasn't Texas. The few people he had tried to talked to were polite, yet somehow strange, and none of their answers to his questions made sense either. One of them, finally, was able to guide his attention to the tablet in his pocket, and he was currently focused on figuring it out. It was nothing like the technology he was used to, and although he understood the basic ideas behind it, it was still a little mind-blowing.

He's got at least sixty pounds on the vampire known as Harvestman, much of it in muscle. His skin is tan from all that Texas sun, and (unlike Harvestman's) flawed - a nick on his cheek is visible from shaving too carelessly, there's a faint scar on his chin. He has bags under his eyes like he hasn't been sleeping, but he still looks healthy, so much more than his usual self. He stands in BDU uniform outside the apartment building he had found himself in, his rank prominent on his hat and lapels and his Signal Corps patch on his sleeve, frowning at the tablet in concentration.

"Is this thing working?" John's almost sure that it was, but he still has to resist the urge to push more buttons. "Um. I talked to one of ya'll here and they said I should use this thing. Can somebody help me?"

He sounds as lost and helpless as he feels right now. John reaches up to rub his eye, the golden wedding band on his finger flashing in the sun. "I really... I really don't know what's going on here."

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[ cordelia is just... staring at her tablet and frowning. severely. ]

...huh?

Edited 2010-05-15 21:21 (UTC)

It talks. Well, that's an improvement. All those fancy buttons and it was just a sci-fi looking, fancy phone.

"I apologize, ma'am, I reckon I weren't clear." He still talks with that easy drawl of his, but while there was always an underlaying of something underhanded in Harvestman's tone, Sgt. Sugihara just spoke with polite honesty. "I'm not supposed to be here - I'm still not sure where here is."

Edited 2010-05-15 22:17 (UTC)

[ ....yeah, what? ]

Did you spike your blood or what?

"My blood," he repeats with zero comprehension. "Look, ma'am - I don't mean to be rude, but I gotta report to duty in an hour. I... could you just tell me why I'm here, if you can? I have to get out of here."

Edited 2010-05-16 10:48 (UTC)

Harvestman, you do realize you're stuck here, right? You've been stuck with us for, like, a month now - and there's no way out. At least, none that I know of.

John stops for a moment, staring at the device, and then rubs at his eyes again. He should have slept last night, but he hasn't been able to since the funeral.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, that ain't my name. You got me confused with somebody else."

...okay, so if that's not your name - what is it?

"Uh, it's John, ma'am. Sgt. John Sugihara, to be specific." He debated telling her that, but it isn't like it's not written on the front of his damn uniform.

[ john sugihara? hmmm. ]

And... you're not... you know. Playing with me or anything? You really don't remember being here in Taxon?

"No, I'm really not." His tone is tinged with impatience now, but he's still polite. "Please - I have a plane I've gotta catch tomorrow, there's no way they're gonna let me get on it if I don't report for duty today. I've got to get out of wherever the hell here is."

[ could it be a glitch? that's a big possibility right now. ]

Oh. Um... yeah, about that. You can't. Catch your plane and leave this place, I mean. It's... one of the things that sucks in this place.

"Fuck, you're kidding." It makes as much sense as everything else about this place, and floored, John finds a nearby bench and sits down heavily on it, rubbing his eyes. "Look, there's gotta be a way out, I need to be in Georgia by tomorrow."

Yeah, and I need to be in LA and get bodyjacked by some creepy higher being. [ she chuckles, as if to say 'kidding!' ]

Sorry. Not kidding. I wish I was. [ pause. ] Why do you need to be in Georgia, anyway?

"...Higher being?" He'd accuse her of messing with him, but nothing really made sense right now. The question confuses him too, but he answers it anyway. "I'm - I'm transferring to another base, closer to family. My - I promised my little girl I'd be there by tomorrow. She's too young to know better, but I still promised."

He glances up and down the streets, which are much to clean, really, and filled with all those strange people. His tone is filled with desperation and disbelief. "I need to be there for my daughter, I can't be stuck here. I can't."

[ a little girl. oh god, he has a daughter? why didn't... harvestman never said anything about her! ]

Oh, John... I--I can call you that, right? Um... I'm sorry. [ her tone is softer, though. ] I'm really, really sorry. I wish I can help you, but... I can't. People who gets stuck in this place... they usually can't leave. Same goes for me... and for you.

For a moment, he looks shattered. But no - he can't do this to himself again, he can't let the word of one person dictate what's possible.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't accept that. I ain't staying here, there's gotta be a way out. Gotta be somebody know can help me, there's - " He closes his eyes for a minute, so tight that white flashes across them. "I've got to go home," he whispers quietly. "Please."

[ she hates this. 'helping the helpless' is her motto, courtesy of angel and her friends, and yet... here, she can't do anything. her tone is quiet as she says: ]

I'm sorry.

"No - look." He hasn't quite figured out that this won't work. Or rather, he has, but he tries anyway. "Look, I - we buried her momma not more than three weeks ago. I've all she's got. I've got to go home, I can't stay here."

[ she shakes her head. not that he can see her do it, but. ]

God, John. Do you really think if I have a way to help you, I wouldn't do it?

"I..." He still can't accept that, he can't slide back into despair. "I don't - I don't know what to do, then."

... You're asking for someone for help.

"I'm... sorry, is that a problem?"

There's no recognition in John's voice, just confusion.

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