Insert Title Here |Khan & John| Trek!Verse
The man, is cold. So very cold. It could be, because of cryo-pod, he had been in. Yes, in fact, it was that. He was not only cold, but very weak. The dark haired male's eyes remained shut and for a time, he contemplates on whether he should open them or not. There is a faint murmur. A distant voice, warm and inviting, and he turns his attention towards it. He not only needs it, he wants it. The man, needs that warmth. Its only instinct, because the man is cold.
His fingertips are numb; the tips of his ears cool, his lips both dry and cracked. He's got a large scrap along the side of his face. He is lying somewhere, but he's not sure where, and the more he tries to open his eyes, he can't. The more he tries to move, he can't. It's not because of the cold.
There's something else, but he can't quite make out just what it is.
However, the warm, inviting voices, continues to move closer to him, and he's straining now. But, --
Restraints, he's been restrained. Why? How? The man, who cannot recall his name, is furious now. A flash of hot white fury, bubbles through his veins. How dare they restrain him? How dare they think that such fragile things, can contain him? The man manages to opens his eyes, somehow, and through tinted slits, he see's a a shroud of bodies, surrounding him. He cannot make out who they are, or what species they might be.
The man continues to fight against the restraints, trying to free himself, but he is -- Not only is he cold, he is weak. Weak!? He was weak, he hated feeling this week. Somehow, the mysterious gang, that surrounded him and manages to get him to lay back and being as weak as he is, he does not fight it and soon, as he does lay back, he blacks out.
It must have been ages before he wakes again. The air is thick, pungent with a foul smelling stench. He isn't sure what it is, but it's making him sick. The Augment slowly staggers to his feet, his stomach twisting.
"Huh..." He isn't sure where he is now or what his name is, but soon, the answers will come, it's only a matter of time, really, but he needs answers and so the man, stumbles forward, gripping a hold of a nearby building. This was strange, wherever he was. This wasn't a place he had been before. The buildings felt different. Stone, yes, but jagged and rough and the sounds of wheels against ground, is enough to snap the man out of whatever daze he is in.
Cars on wheels. Where he is from, the cars don't have wheels, they tend to hover. Where is he? He pushes himself off of the wall and stumbles forward. There are papers littered along the ground and he scrambles to grab one.
London, England. 2014.
The man, who's name has escaped him, rose his head, with a frustrated groan, he crumbles up and tosses it to the ground, then staggers forward. Still cold, but the more he moves about the warmer he becomes. He needs to find a place to hide. Lay low, till the dull ache in his bones wear off and the haze that has somehow found a way to hide the memories of his past, his name, disappears and the important things find a way to come back.
He's not sure why he's weak or why his name escapes him. There are no hints. No whispers of what he thinks are of importance. Nothing. He has simply lost all sense of who he is and where he belongs.
The name Khan holds no meaning. He is unaware that where he is from, he's a war criminal. He is unaware of the 73 crew members that he calls family. He has no memory of the things he has done, the people he has killed. Would he want it? Possibly not, but memories are the only thing a person has and with him stuck on Earth, with no way of getting back to where he's from. Memories, are what he has. Are what anyone has, when it comes right down to it.
However, the year, hew knows he should be in, is 2259.55. How he had flung himself back in time, was beyond him. He was sure, he would find out. Hopefully, in doing so, he'd find a way back to the London he knows.
He staggers forward. He could use a drink, seeing as his throat is dry. Water, would do just fine, but in the end, he wants something stronger. I think, that experience, has left him needing something stronger. He'd have to find himself a bar, but at the moment, he needed to try to blend in. His clothes, being a little out of date for this time period. As Khan stumbles forward, and as he passes by a couple sitting outside, enjoying a meal, he snatches the man's coat, when they aren't looking and pulls it on. Not to conspicuous now, he slides his hands into the pockets of said coat and wanders on.
