-1-

[twoton21]

So I know I overreacted the night before. I was a little pissed off and everything, but then I guess dying probably kinda does that for some people. Anyway, does that floating disembodied voice guy always leave right in the middle of a conversation? What a douche.

Anyway -- thanks to everybody that tried to be helpful. But seeing as how this room is pretty much my room exactly (which is kind of creepy, by the way -- nobody but me should know some of the minute details), there's really not much settling in I have to do. And while I don't really think I'm up for all this "redemption" stuff, I haven't got much better to do while I'm here besides at least have a look, right?

So...sorry for freaking out at some of you. You'll see me around.

Call me 21.

[Private]

Having read through the journals and taken a peek around, I've come to settle on three possible explanations for my current predicament:

1. Monstroso has secretly developed hallucination-inducing powers...maybe kind of like those demons in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Only I don't know why I'd be dreaming of this and -- I don't know, what my life would have been like if I stayed home through my teen years.
2. In the ensuing and EPIC battle between Monstroso, Brock Samson, and myself, I sustained massive head trauma and am now lying in a coma somewhere -- perhaps in a hospital, perhaps back at the cocoon, or perhaps even in some secret guild lab under Monstroso's office building. This would explain why there is at least one familiar place, my room. Therefore, all the people here that I seem to be recognizing from television and comics are clearly just figments of my imagination, my collective pop culture knowledge rising up as one to shield me from the worst damages to my brain. ...And how fucking cool is that? (I think there was a TV show like that a while back -- didn't last long. It was probably crappy. I dunno.)
3. Everything these people have told me about this place is true. I'm dead. And apparently in some strange nexus where anything and anyone I've ever fantasized as real really is real.

The first two options would definitely explain why I can't contact 24 anymore -- and it confirms he really was haunting me either way. If he were in my head, and all this were in my head, he'd be here now.

The third I'm still not so sure of. But just in case it is true, I need to be careful how I talk to some people. After all, if I say the wrong thing to one of them and they go home, how horribly am I going to mess up their time line?

I could unmake fandom as I know it.

Uncle Ben was right. Great power? Great responsibility.

Comments

spam/log/assume is fine with me :)

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Montgomery Scott! You can call me Scotty, though, with the best of 'em.

I'm already at the pub givin' the keg a lovely once-over.

spam is good

[twoton21.livejournal.com]

...You're Montgomery Scott.

Scotty.

Okay. I'll bite. Where's the pub?

Sorry I disappeared. Got called in to work!

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Above deck, level +1. I'll let ya in!

spam

[twoton21.livejournal.com]

[21 tried not to walk too fast, or run, but this was probably the first time he ever silently prayed to himself that this wasn't somehow all in his head. He made it above deck and looked around for anything that looked like the entrance to a bar.]

spam

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

[Scotty had been periodically poking his head out of the pub door, hoping to spot an Inmate loitering. He had no idea what this kid looked like, but he got the feeling that people didn't just hang out outside the pub if they couldn't get in. Sure enough, after one of his head-poking escapades, he noticed someone wandering around. He shouted a greeting.]

Oi! You happenna go by Twentae-One, there? [He shook his half-empty pint at him.]

spam -- he'll recognize Simon Pegg in a second, bear with him

[twoton21.livejournal.com]

[21 figured he could go in civvies today, so Scotty was spared the sight of his winged uniform. He heard a thick accent and turned -- totally expecting perhaps a young James Doohan standing there waiting -- and immediately looked confused.]

That's me. Who're you?

I'm still contemplating the Scottish dialect thing, feel free to pick at it.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

[He gave the man a delighted smile, obviously fueled by a good deal of inebriation. Scotty wasn't wearing any Starfleet paraphernalia today.] I'm Montgomery Scott! You do your best to call me Scotty though, eh? [He opened the door to the pub and made a grand gesture for him to enter.]

[twoton21.livejournal.com]

Y'mean you're--? [21 started to point and stopped himself, pausing to look at the man carefully. Did the characters he knew simple look different, if they were live action, because of course the real person wouldn't look like an actor? Or --] Oh. All right. [He stepped in, all pleasantries but the entire way all he was really thinking was Oh fuck you, JJ Abrams, fuck you!] Pleased to meet you, Scotty!

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

[He raised an eyebrow as 21 vocalized his disjointed thoughts for a second or two. Scotty couldn't be arsed to make any sort of deal of it, though. He wandered over to the bar and patted a barstool, indicating a spot for 21. He moved behind the bar and began to fiddle underneath it. His voice was muffled.]

What d'yeh drink, then? I think I'm still sober enough to get yeh somethin'...