Everybody wants to rule the world

[maskormods]

WHO: YOU.
WHERE: Downtown Cape Canaveral
WHEN: Wednesday January 15th, around 5 PM EST
WHAT: Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome.
WARNINGS: None anticipated; let us know if this should be edited.

Cape Canaveral. It's no longer the heat of the day and in January the temperatures will be livable; not too hot and not too cold, either. A pleasant change from the City, perhaps. The sun is on its way to setting but the last light of the day still fills the sky, bursting the city into color. The air smells like ocean.

The locals are friendly and smile and wave, looking on at you in awe. They'll approach if you ask for help, or a question, but they don't want to interfere, either; if you want to be left alone you probably will be. American flags can be seen in many windows and restaurants are rolling out their dinner menus. There's no parade, no big banners, but many storefronts have handmade signs and posters that read:

Welcome, imPorts! We love you!

The woman at the Porter told you what to expect: You know what your tattoo means, you've been given your file, and you know in a few hours they're going to be here to answer more of your questions and see if you'll stand with them or if you'll go off on your own. "It's your decision," one of them had said, but you were already told what you get if you agree and what you don't if you don't. After that's done, she told you, you'll be driven to your new homes.

In the meantime, enjoy the area, or try to. It may not be what you're used to, but after the apocalypse even Florida might seem like an improvement.

Comments

[kegflipped]

"April!"

Troy's more than a little confused, and not ha-ha-whatever-I-can-laugh-about-it confused. He was bordering on the panic attack he's not sure he's ever had. Having the apocalypse pulled out from under your feet somehow makes the whole thing even worse, especially with the lack of familiar faces immediately nearby. But he'd just seen one dip into the crowd, and he jogged to catch up with April before moving to catch her by the arm.

The good news is that his cat, along for the ride, is a lot less riled up about this than he is.

"April, geez. Are you okay? I'm really-- Ugh. Have you seen Abed?"

[aggressiveapathy]

She looked down at his hand on her arm for a moment, then the cat, then finally making her way up to his face...

And, in what may possibly be only a source of more confusion for the poor guy, April threw one arm around his shoulders in a quick, but totally did happen, half-hug. Mindful of the cat, of course. Because she has no idea how many people had actually made it out of the City. And maybe she was glad he was one of them.

"No. No boyfriend sighting."

[kegflipped]

The hug did throw him just a bit, but it wasn't a match for the general mess of things. If anything, it felt grounding. He was here and okay. He had at least one (maybe-ambiguous-but-still) friend here, too. And Lady Smudgeface. But still no Abed, no anybody else yet, which left his stomach in knots and his anxiety high.

"I don't get it," he muttered, tilting his head up to try and see over the surrounding people, down the street, into shop windows... "Is it just another world? Like before? One more time?"

[aggressiveapathy]

"Why not. The porter is a jerk. And she was the good twin."

Triplet. Whatever. April didn't even know. She was just along for the ride, not some kind of hero here to save it.

"I don't like Florida."