[HOLO] [Sanctuary] What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

[just_axe_me]

Of course Sam Axe had woken up before with no idea where he was or how the hell he got there. He’d gotten married once in Vegas. And there’d been this one Staatssicherheit guy who’d pistol-whipped him to every rendezvous no matter how much Sam said he’d love a blindfold -- but that’d been ‘89, and nowadays he tended to wake up wherever he’d put his

Comments

[ voice ]

[tothelibrary]

...Seriously, why the probing. Everyone's all about probing now, and personally I find it kind of unsettling.

[ dawn honey, what are you. stop soapboxing at the newbies. ]

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

There was 'probing', and then there was youthful girl voices talking about probing, which was enough to send any prison-fearing man into a tight spiral. He had no idea where the voice was coming from, or that he really was on a global Pay-Per-View; just work with it.

"Hey, I'll make you an offer here," said Sam. "I ixnay on the probing, you let me out of this tin can, sweetheart." (And then there was the urge to call any girl who sounded under thirty sweetheart, which was unavoidable. Winning smile.) "Tell you what, I'll even throw in a pony."

[ voice ]

[tothelibrary]

I'm not actually in charge here, but I would take a pony.

[ hi sam, welcome to trolling 101 with dawn summers. be glad river isn't with her, sometimes they horrify new people by trying to sound like they're the gods of taxon. (new people being jayne.) ]

Pony aside, see the funky cell phone thing? It's your tablet, blah blah blah long explanation you're probably too weirded out for at this very second, it's your key out welcome to Taxon.

...Oh, and it's Dawn.

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

"Really? Because last time I checked it was three o'clock," said Sam, because Sam had been what could be termed a professional troll for fifty years. If he'd known the term. He might've just called it being a gigantic ass. "Time flies."

The hand-waving wasn't doing a hell of a lot, so he quit it. The thought that a bunch of amorphous nobodies were listening in did not give him any kind of angle. "Look, I love an alien cellphone as much as the next guy but let's level. Pony and a shiny penny if you tell me what a Taxon is. You kids are into shiny pennies, right?"

[Voice]

[notabuymoron]

[Have an amused cynical grunt, Sam.]

Just wait till you suddenly wake up in the 50's, a widower, with two teenage daughters to care for. That'll really scare the pants off of ya.

Abducted by aliens? Check. Just not the kind you're expecting. Pick up that communications device. It's recording you anyways, might as well say hi to the rest of the folks who are stuck here too. It'll also let you out of that holding cell.

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

The cynical grunt was not part of what you expected waking up in the pre-dismemberment alien room. It was a very human sound. But some of 'em liked to soften you up with the good cop hey, bud, I'm just like you, let me give you a wry comment before the slug to the head --

-- and then the welcome wagon notice that everyone else could see and hear him. Sam waved in no particular direction, trying for jaunty and ending up somewhere around Queen-meets-hungover-senator. "Already woke up in the '50s once," he said, and kept an eye out for the camera. Couldn't find it. "Wasn't as bad as the day I woke up in my fifties, am I right? Halloween ten times over, you know?"

'Town idiot' was a good default to go for. It was also stupid to do whatever a disembodied voice said, so although Sam's eyes trained on the little innocuous pedestal with its little innocuous recording device he did not scoop it up. "So what's the catch? Because between you and me, the soul's willing to pick up the magic cellphone but the flesh is weak."

Switching to [Visual]

[notabuymoron]

Casey sighs and turns on the visual feed.

"Yeah, you got me, it's rigged with enough semtex to make you charbroiled chicken nuggets and I'm just waiting for you to fall for my diabolical trap. Look, pal, I really suck at welcoming the new people. Bottom line is: if you pick up the tablet, the doors open, and you get to walk outta here. Or, you could just keep flapping your jaw at me, act like you're stupider than you are, and waste everybody's goddamn time. Take your pick."

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

Now they were getting somewhere. He hadn't expected another visual, but you took what you could get. Sam laughed, open and genuine, despite the jaw-flapping and the waste everybody's goddamn time. Sam was used to being accused of wasting everybody's goddamn time. He could waste Fi's time like it was water.

"Hey, you're a funny guy," he said. "I like jokes, you like jokes. Next thing you know we'll be doing a sleepover and swapping friendship bracelets. Look, buddy, it just seems too easy, all right? I gotta say, a little semtex and I'd be happier. You know where you are with plastic explosive."

Sam's hand hovered a few gap-closing inches from the tablet. "We could swap names," he said. "Star signs. I'll start: I'm Sam Axe and I'm an Aries."

[Visual]

[midwesten]

As it turned out, Sam Axe was luckier than Michael Westen. This wasn't too strange, given Sam Axe was luckier than a lot of people and Michael Westen was unluckier than a lot of people. But in this case, Sam was luckier, because:

A picture window opened on the cell phone just out of his view, where he could see a flash but not much else unless he came closer.

"Sam?"

But he didn't have to come any closer for the voice.

"Sam," Michael repeated over the connection in that flat, strung-taut voice he used when he was on the very fine edge of panic. "Sam. Sam, is that you? Sam, say something."

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

If there was one thing that took a sledgehammer to Sam's rising suspicion, it was hearing Mike Westen's voice. It was such a big wave of relief that you pretty much had to double-check yourself so you didn't give too much away immediately -- no Michael using signals, no Michael sounding recorded or with a gun kissing the back of his skull.

"Mike," he said, in the patented Sam Axe it's okay; I've got it voice -- useful in all situations, Iran to Tehran to Miami to Maddie Westen's. Everything else took on a slightly fuzzier focus. "Easy, brother. I'm here. Mike, you okay?"

Re: [Visual]

[midwesten]

Michael's image was Michael, all right, and no gun to his chest or unfriendly arm around his waist or throat. That said nothing for what might be happening offscreen, but Michael's face and voice did -- there was no way Mike would let himself look this frazzled if someone had him, not like this, not without a signal letting Sam know what was going on. Wherever Mike was, it was outdoors, looked like, and the only face he was making was the face Sam had seen him make in Afghanistan the first time a bomb had blasted a building to pieces in front of him: the face that said, shit was real, real in a way Mike Westen didn't know shit could be real.

And Mike Westen had seen a lot of shit, too. So that was bad.

"Yeah," he said, and sounded calmer this time, though he was still staring at Sam. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay. It's all right, I'm not being coerced, though I wouldn't count on this not being bugged right now. God -- God."

The younger man stared more. What could've come out of his mouth next was, I'm so glad you're here. Or

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

"What am I doing here? I'm missing my date with Suzi and getting assaulted by the peanut gallery, that's what I'm doing," said Sam. "No 'oh, my hero'? Not even a 'whew, I'm glad to see you'? Geez, Mike, I get better hellos from the Walmart greeter."

In reality there were few faces he'd rather see than a purse-mouthed, grim-faced Mike Westen, even if he looked like he'd spent the night hard and his girl-coloured shirt was creased. But he didn't look like he'd been roughed up at all, and his voice hadn't taken on the slow, even quality it did when it was a Westen apocalypse. "Where's Fi? Jesse?"

[ voice ] so instead of the douche-pire sam will get boobsy mcskanksalot. you're welcome sam.

[thesecondslayer]

Sorry, not really a romance chick.

[ because yes, faith. this is how we greet new arrivals. ]

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

And there it was, the little bell that would drive Pavlov's Dog straight to sexual harrassment.

"So what kind of chick are you," said Sam Axe, and he winked in the general direction of -- the general direction. (Mike could glare at him later. If Mike was going to get him kidnapped out of dates, Mike could live with it.)

[ voice ]

[thesecondslayer]

Generally a fan of get some, get gone.

[ which is hard in taxon. for the record. faith is kind of learning to shot not giving a fake name (or no name at all) and then crossing state lines before the guy gets his pants back on. personal growth, it's a heartwarming thing. ]

You get the speech yet?

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

"If you mean the go towards the light, pick up the phone," said Sam, "loud and clear, babycakes, in triplicate. We can skip that part."

He was doing a lot better than Fi would've. Tell Fiona to pick something up, she would have already been hurling it against the wall or crushing it underneath her high heel. This thought alarmed him; not that it was anything new for Fiona, but that he was already starting to think about it in kind of wistful, rose-coloured missing.

"Get some and get gone is for repo men," he said. "C'mon, you sound too cute for that." (Mike was not going to live with that.) "You definitely sound over the age of legal majority."

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

The young, overly-good-looking man on the tablet reminded him of Jesse in a mood for a moment -- and then that disappeared, insubstantial as smoke.

"Well, that's a pickle," said Sam Axe, who was growing heartily tired of these captors without ever having met 'em. "See, when I kidnap a guy, I at least wive him the benefit of interaction, you know? Just a little smacking around to remind him I care. Do these guys turn up at all?"

[Visual]

[just_axe_me]

'Glitches.' In his mind, a classic alien plot would've been to tie you up on some planet with meatloaf monsters and drill into you, good old physical stuff. This felt like a psychological carpet-bombing. "Nah," he said, and a note of weariness crept into his voice. "I'm going to start taking notes just in case there's a pop quiz. Lay it on me, kid. 'Glitches'?"