@interdimensional-kickerofbutt continued from [x]:
America is not in the mood for nihilistic calm or whatever the hell this is.
“I meant a metaphorical bottle, tonto,” she grumbles, following him into the jungle. “Like a message or some technological trick, or something. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? You gotta have a way to contact somebody.”
It’s not so much the island that is unnerving her, she’s lived in places like this before on her own and she knows it’s not terrible —not easy, either, but not a death sentence—, what ticks her off is being stuck. Whatever is interfering with her powers must be incredibly powerful.
“Tony, where do you think we’re going? We’re not gonna play Robinson Crusoe here. We need to get home.”
“Well we’re not going to swim home.” Tony replies, vaulting over a fallen log. “And I only have a few hundred thousand nanites still on me-” said nanites crawl across his skin to form the shape of a visor in front of his eyes. Erratic readings and text filters across the HUD that flickers on. “-and no signal coming in or getting out. Whatever’s jamming you is jamming me, too.”
The remaining nanites form along the side of his arm into a blade as the foliage becomes too thick to walk through. He slashes through vines to clear the way, grateful that his work generally keeps him in fair shape. He turns back toward America, pointing to the beach with his bladed arm.
“So, we have two options: sit on the beach and hope someone finds out where we went, and that they won’t get stranded too when they come to find us,” he points into the forest, “or figure out what else is on this island and why it doesn’t want us to leave. Either way, I don’t have any sun tan lotion, so-” Tony points up at the thick canopy blotting out the sun. He shrugs. “-shade. Trust me, I’ve been stranded in the Savage Lands one too many times to be that worried, yet.”
