( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7

[contagio]

THE TEST DRIVE



Like it or not, you've been dragged from your world into the sanctum. It's a pretty nice city, all things considered--sci-fi, high-tech, glamourous.... Except, of course, for the giant dome encircling it, and the threat of glitching, contaminated zombies at your door. Looks like humanity's built itself a fortress that looks suspiciously like a cage, too. Toss in the odd memory blanks and the everpresent logo of Bifrons incorporated and it's enough to make someone paranoid.

The object of this meme is to get people familiar with the world of the Sanctum, and to try to see if their characters would fit in a sci-fi utopia such as this. Here are your options:

1. Intro: Waking Up. Make your intro post, folks. You wake up in a strange place, and get a strange transmission to go with it. There's a pair of glasses connected to some sort of communications network, but otherwise not much else in the room with you. What are you going to do?

2. Pet Adoption. Maybe you have the perfect genetically engineered pet in mind. Maybe you found a stray little escapee--do you keep it or turn it in? There's a reward if you let Bifrons know where the potentially dangerous little bugger is at, after all.

3. Alterations. Feel like you need an edge in the city? Find yourself injured and looking at options? Why not consider genetic alterations or, better yet, upgrading to a better, healthier you? Be warned, some of the side effects can be a little unpleasant.

4. Network Glitches. Strange garbled messages keep trying to come through in audio and text, but no way to track where they're coming from. Do you try to make contact? Compare notes with others? Surely it's nothing to be concerned about, right?

5. Dome Glitches. What was that in the window? There, again, in the bathroom mirror! Is that another you, living another life? Or maybe you spot an ominous shadow lurking around in the corner, something like a dysthrope but...worse. You're not going crazy, are you? Others see it, too, don't they? Oh, I wouldn't touch that reflective surface if I were you, or you might end up thinking you're living in that strange other world.

6. Outside the Dome. You're out and about without an armed escort, suited up against the atmosphere and dysthropes. It's supposed to be a green sector in this run down shell of what used to be a suburb, right? Nothing could possibly go wrong

7. WILDCARD. Choose your own adventure or create a cocktail from the presented options! The choice is YOURS.

Comments

Red | Transistor { Sanctum AU }

[tothecountry]

network post; heavily encrypted

[ It takes her a few times to get out what she wants to say. The first few attempts: ]

It's like we're conditioned to never care about anyone

It's like we have zero attention span here. What goes away can be replaced. Well I don't believe

[ Are erased; unseen. She tries again. ]

It's a funny place, this city. Out with the old, in with the new. Some of us don't want the old to go away. We shouldn't have them taken from us. --R


action

[ Meet Red. Just Red, no last name needed. District 1's new darling on the music scene. With the voice of an angel, her self-written songs will soon be played throughout the city. Her first single is out now. Maybe you've heard it played somewhere? Or seen the ads featuring her face? She knows most of the elite won't read anything deep in her music, but if she can get some people to think and not be sheep, then good.

What intrigues people about Red is the mystery. She plays her cards close to the chest and let's people interpret things as they will. She hasn't taken well to the celebrity lifestyle and spends most of her time holed up in her apartment. Recent events have made her disinclined to talk, but today she heads out to do some shopping. She starts in D1, but eventually she ends up at the memorial in D3, reading some of the names of the fallen. If only there was a place for the names of those who have disappeared since the dome was finished. ]

Lieutenant Koudelka | The Vorkosigan Saga | Tags or prose

[trainable_lout]

bar option

[A tall young man is sitting at a bar, a walking-cane (functional, not decorative) propped at his side. He's staring into his vodka drink with the glassy look of someone who is not nearly as drunk as he intends to be.]

street option

[Later, he is out on a walk, limping down the sidewalk and glancing around as if trying to make his way to some unseen destination. A couple of goons are giving him interested looks. The wrong kind of interested, unfortunately. Kou's cane, while it has no particular ornament to it, is clearly extremely well-made and expensive, and it's not long before the goons are following him. Kou grips the stick, looking grim and pale, and keeps limping forward, quickly as his broken body will allow.]

[pain_train]

Oh hey look, another from the gimp squad. Wrath is finally allowed to drink again, so she's doing the rounds at her old haunts, and there's this guy. Has she seen him before? Well, he looks like he could use a friend. Leaning on her own cane, she heads over to him and eases up onto the stool.

"Beer me!" she shouts to the bartender. "You're a gem."

The Warden | Dragon Age

[sistertohermen]

Waking up

[Too much about this place is extremely strange. There's so much metal here, strange surfaces, a message from what seems to be another place and time somehow visually brought to her, and a bunch of her things...and things that are not hers (but surely are now).

The first thing that is for certain is: she cannot stay in this room. It's likely that everyone else is trapped in here the same as her, like the sloth demon but with...very different dreams. So the first thing she does is sneak down whatever halls she can, trying every single door that is available to her. She doesn't think leaving this place out the obvious exit is going to get her anywhere, not until she finds her party.]

Network

Has anyone lost a mabari? Or a warhound of any kind? ...A dog. If you can call it that.

[She looks down with her glasses on, aimed down at what, to those from Ferelden, looks to be a mabari indeed. But pint-sized. It even has some war paint markings on it, but while the tail is going a mile a minute, she can't help but think it looks...pathetic.]

She isn't mine. Mine was nearly as tall as I am, and a male. I'm not about to steal someone's hound if she's bonded to someone. [She might steal most things, but pets? Not likely.] I found her barking at a few cats in an alley, so at least she's got the voice of a mabari. Big things in little packages. [She can relate.]

Wildcard

[For whatever else appeals to you!]

sera / dragon age: inquisition

[buttsbuttsbutts]

[waking up thing]

[Sera reacts to finding herself in a strange place wearing strange clothes like a cat might react to being shoved in a bag -- wildly, and entirely willing to hurt anything that gets too close.

She runs. Her elf-y, rogue-y stealth seems to have disappeared with her weapons, her clothes, her friends.

She runs until she runs into a person, and to that person she shouts:]

Eat it, piss-bag!

[Before throwing a wild punch at the stranger's face.

Because that's what you do when there aren't any arrows.]

[pet thing]

[By all accounts, Sera is one of the very last people in all of everything, everywhere, that one might decide should have a pet.

But that doesn't mean she can't want one. Or...pretend she wants one in order to harass a poor boutique employee, as the case may be.

Anyone passing by the boutique might take notice of a shabby elven woman arguing loudly with the clerk inside.]

-- But you can do it, so just friggin' do it! I've filled your stupid papers. [She's actually just wrote "Blackwall!!! ROAARGH!!" in the animal's name field and drew an enormous cat devouring stick figures over the rest of the form.]

Right, so. Dragon-sized cat, pink, big stupid wings, [she counts off on her fingers] shoots swords or something from its mouth...and her name is Blackwall. Do it. Do it and I won't throw a knife at your bits.

Oh! And make sure it comes with a saddle. Obviously.

[It might seem that she's suddenly decided to embrace the weird and magical and possibly-demonic but she's having more fun making a scene.]

[forcemageure]

[ Hawke ...ducks, although by closer a margin than he would have liked. ]

Well, all right, if I must eat it. Is 'it' full of jam, whatever it is? That would help quite a lot with the sales pitch. The 'eat it' one.

Eames | Inception | Tags or Prose

[dream_bigger_darling]

Casino | Action

<sub>[ There was something about the slide of two poker chips against each other that sent a little thrill down his spine, that made him want to lick his lips like he was about to devour a delightful sweetie. Arthur would always joke with him that rubbing two together wasn't going to make them multiply, but Arthur wasn't Eames, now was he? Not that these chips were what he was used to. Forging them would be harder than it looked, but he would learn - eventually. For now he had to play the legit way and that bit at him, poked at his professional pride.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, tossing out chips as the cards were dealt, tugging open another button on his shirt. He was going to make the most of this night if it killed him. ]</sub>

People Watching / Thieving

He liked this, sitting out in the brisk February air, nursing a hot coffee with drift trails of steam, his eyes flicking over the crowd, the people around him. He watched the way they walked, the way they talked, the way a mouth twitched upwards in a smile or turned down in a frown, the way they twisted their fingers or played with their hair. This was his element, his true artistry at work. Watch, mimic, and go for the mark.

He pushed away from the table, left a chit for the coffee, slowly began to work his way through the crowd, flashing a smile, catching a shoulder, slipping a hand, and caught the mark.

Casino

[abjurer]

Max isn't necessarily one for gambling himself. His parents disdained it, brothers avoided it, and when you know you have more than enough money to keep you going more than comfortably, there's not that much of a thrill to it.

He likes the atmosphere of the casinos though, and some of his clients preferred to meet him in person before they hired him. One of those had just concluded amicably and now he's just killing time. A few drinks while he sits and watches a poker game, eyeing up the contenders curiously. Mostly natives, a couple of Immune if the gunmetal glimpse of metal ports he gets is any giveaway.

Garry "Eggsy" Unwin | Kingsman: The Secret Service | Tags or Prose

[galahads_heir]

Waking Up

So this was officially the strangest place Eggsy had woken up, and he had woken up some interesting places before. He was wary of the video that had been played for him when he woke up, but having just put down Valentine it wasn't the craziest thing he had heard either. At the least what the video was saying seemed to be partially true. If he was on Earth, it was in a place he had never even heard of. At least he had his suit and his glasses, though they weren't reading out any information like he was used to, and his umbrella. His outfit wasn't really made without his umbrella.

He was walking along, observing as he had been taught, making the mental notes he would later feed back to Merlin, if he ever got back in contact with Merlin that is. He thought he was being a proper gentleman, not calling attention to himself, blending and mixing, certainly one of the duller peacocks in the crowd by the looks of things. He swung the umbrella, whistling to himself, doing his best to figure out what the hell was happening. ]

Bar

Umbrella tucked against the booth on the outside within easy reach. Check. Legs carefully crossed like a proper gentleman, not out and open. If he had been in his street gear he would have, but he was in his suit and he just knew the tailor would make him bleed from one hundred different places if he ever found out. And he didn't want that. Blood was terrible to get out of clothing, he had found out. Glasses up and on, and the perfect pour of Guiness in front of him. For a moment he felt a pang for Harry, and he carefully raised the glass just slightly in an empty salute before sipping.

That done, he folded his hands in his lap, doing his best not to nervously play with the signet ring on his pink as he glanced around the bar, taking in the flittering habits of life, trying to discern how he fit into it, or his purpose in it. ]

Apologies for all the edits, a gentleman should not phonetag :(

[understitch]

"May we get what we want, may we get what we need, but may we never get what we deserve." A dry, familiar voice issued from the booth directly behind Eggsy.

If he turned around to look, he would be met by the back of one meticulously cropped head of silver-brown hair. That head would turn to reveal a pair of glasses not unlike Eggsy's own, and the shrewd brown eyes and easy smile settled beneath them.

It was all a little Ghost of Christmas Past, but was there a polite way to reintroduce oneself post-death? Appearing in good health after last rites and without a proper goodbye was rude no matter which way you spun it.

Apologies and explanations were certainly in order, but they could wait a pint or two.

Merrill | Dragon Age 2

[direbunnies]

{ the park }
[ Merrill's sitting cross-legged in a garden. Well, she thinks it's a garden. There are flowers and bushes and things! (It's not a garden; it's the memorial park in D3.) She's not sure what all the names on the walls are all about. Maybe they're gardeners who have worked here? Oh, but that's an awful lot of names. So maybe not. But the little fountains are nice to listen to, and she reaches out, plucking a flower from a flowerbed. ]

{ walking around }
[ After getting kicked out of the park by security guards for picking the flowers, Merrill wanders around, frowning faintly at the pavement under her bare feet. She lifts her eyes to see nothing above. No blue sky or sun. What a horrible place this is! Eventually she stops, expression curious as she looks in a shop window. Inside are knee high leather boots. How tall they are! How would your toes ever find the bottom? She presses her hands against the glass and stares until a salesperson comes out and tells her not to lean on the glass. Such a lot of angry people in this city! ]

Could you tell me where the alienage is?

[ The salesperson says they don't know what she's talking about and heads back inside. So Merrill turns to passing people to ask. ]

Excuse me, do you know where the alienage is?

second prompt

[fresen]

( Piper didn't notice the woman at first, spending too much time trying to find out what the place was. There were a lot of shops, and people. A lot of people that don't seem to have much interest in answering any questions.

That is until Piper hears one asked herself. It makes her turn, the source of the voice quite close by to her. Even though someone is asking a question it sounds like a strange one )

The- what?

Leliana | Dragon Age: Origins

[bardknocklife]

{ the casino }
[ Since arriving, Leliana's fallen back into old habits. She's less the strange lay sister, swearing the Maker had reached out to her, and more the Leliana of old: the bard who could play people like instruments. She watches the card games with interest, but isn't about to jump in just yet. She's been learning of the network and of cameras that can capture your every move. It would be foolish to assume that just because no one's eyes witnessed her slip in the needed card that the cameras didn't.

After the game ends and the players scatter, she moves towards the bar and orders a drink. There's more to observe here, so she can properly play the game. Not a card game, but the bard game. ]

{ on the street }
[ Leliana is walking a truly darling little pet on a leash. Really, why are people recoiling? It's not the poor little thing's fault he has no hair. But never fear, Leliana has put a little purple sweater on her nug to keep him warm. She's so glad that the pet adoption people were able to create a nug here from her specifications! ]

No, no, Schmooples II! Do not dig there.

[ She gently guides him away from a strip of grass along the sidewalk. But then he manages to twist out of his collar and scurries away, towards several people who scream. ]

Oh, he is harmless, I swear it!

Celty Sturluson | DRRR!!/Sanctum AU

[wheelsoverhead]

01. Transporter

[The revving of a gasoline engine cuts through the sound of normal traffic, and a woman in a helmet cuts expertly through the streets and alleyways. Chatter from the network is running in her helmet display, but most prominent is the image of the person she's supposed to pick up. They might be expecting her, they might not, all Celty knows is she got a tip so she's following it.]

[Shockingly, the tip is good. Celty pulls up next to her pick up, her bike's engine shuddering in a sound that could almost be called a horse's whinny. She produces a palm-sized datapad and taps a message:]

Get on.


02. Network [Set Registered to Setton]

Good evening, everyone. I've recently come into possession of a fish. [Read: she was paid with two of them.] I want to make dinner for someone, but I've never actually cooked fish before. Does anyone have any tips?


03. Black Bike

[It's been years since Celty has been out riding on the streets. Between healing from her injury and getting used to not being able to speak, she'd been more or less in hiding. But with the army and the callsigns defecting from Bifrons, Celty not only feels some pull to be out in the world again, she needs to stop relying on Bifrons for her housing and medical care.]

[She starts out slow, taking a routine trip around the dome, delivering food during the riot clean up, low-profile jobs. Then, when she's confident again, she puts her gold helmet and her leather catsuit back on and cuts through the roads like she owns them. Word spreads quickly that the urban legend, the Black Bike is riding again.]

[And that earns her the attention of yet another buy-in war game: Hunt the Black Bike. Celty can outrun two or three, but she gets the feeling after a few days that the number is growing. Eventually there are at least a dozen bikes after her, all with passengers pointing guns at her. Rumor has it that the Black Bike doesn't have a head.]

[Which is ridiculous, of course Celty has a head-- it's just not for public viewing. And if they get her, the first thing that will be all over the network is photos of what countless doctors had done to help her.]

[She swallows and revs the engine, trying to put more distance between her and the gang.]

Crap, [she thinks to herself.] Crap, crap, crap, crap...

Mike Zacharius | Attack on Titan

[olfactophiliac]

Waking up

A metal containment sliding out to too-bright lights...It was better than waking up in the belly of a titan, at least. He swallowed, inhaled, concentrating on the confusion of scent around him. Metallic and strange, muffled in the small space yet rather than panic he lifted his head and promptly bumped it on the top by accident.

A hand went up to his forehead in response as he rubbed at the quickly budding welt, pale green eyes squinting as he felt the panel move out beneath him. In any case, the strangeness of the event of seeing the transmission and the message got his attention, if but for the grogginess and the pounding in his head. After somehow managing to make his way to the table to gather his belongings, the tall Squad Leader quickly shed the gown in favor of his Survey Core uniform. At least that was familiar, and far better than...well, whatever that was. The door and hallway were quickly found after he put on his 3D maneuver gear, the familiar weight of the gas canisters and the blades at his hips at least something which helped to give Mike the confidence to continue moving forward. The haze hasn't exactly faded, but at least he's making his way towards what hopefully is an exit. Given how many doors are on either side, that may be a while before he finds exactly what he's looking for. And even then, it's unlikely that exit is going to give him what he wants.

Streets/Where ever

One can imagine, if, say, they're from a Germanesque, somewhat dated world encased by Walls to protect them from monster-like beings called Titans who pose a constant threat to humanity, the shock of being out in the middle of a far-distant city full of vibrancy and, even in its despair from the virus/Dysthrophes, the shock may be a little much for a newcomer like him. Mike was just taken aback by it all, if nothing else, by the sheer number of people out there. True, the dome in the Sanctum City may have been "empty", but compared to the Walls, and the constant gruesome deaths of those around him, safety was a foreign word.

So don't mind the 6'5" man in green military clothes and the emblem of wings on his back, with the strange devices attached, staring with wide eyes, at the expanse before him. Chances are, you'll bump into him since he's in the middle of the damn street.

Re: Mike Zacharius | Attack on Titan

[captain_clean_freak]

It wasn’t enough that the bastard was tall or had that haircut. No. It was the way he wore the uniform that made it hit home for Levi that the giant gawking at everything around him really was Mike Zacharius. Shit, and Didn’t he die? kept clamoring for dominance in his mind before Levi shook his head and stomped his way over to get the idiot out of the middle of the street.

“Zacharius! Do you want to get run over? Get your giant ass out of the street. I know all the shiny shit is distracting,” here he finally reaches where Mike is standing, looking up at the other man and nearly visibly annoyed by it annoyance covers shock well, he’s found, “but you really need to watch where you’re going.”

Caine Wise | Jupiter Ascending

[runtofthelegion]

[001 - Space Hunter]

[The air in the dome is truly bizarre. Caine can smell how recycled it is, knows there must be a filter somewhere that's making what limited oxygen they have breathable again and again. It's a little frustrating, to be honest. How is he supposed to track anybody when the scent barely sticks around for 48 hours? He has to get lucky.]

[He's been tracking this particular person for days because of the damn recycled air, but the real thing has finally returned to a usual spot-- a place where the scent is stronger. Caine falls into step behind them, navigating the street while trying to keep an eye on them.]


[002 - Space Wolf]

[Caine had zero problem with how he came into being. Genetic alterations, breeders, it was just the way things were.]

[...surrounded by a pile of puppies that smell like a fruit basket, he's starting to rethink things. Surely all these little guys couldn't stand to be around each other? Surely their sense of smell was completely blown out because they could only smell pineapple or strawberry all the time? And the colors... the colors-- at least Caine knew he'd been bred for a job, not to be someone's confection.]

[But the little pack of escaped boutique pets won't stop following him. He turns corners climbs up dumpsters, even goes into various businesses, but he can't shake all of them. When he'd said he was looking for a pack, he didn't mean he was looking for a pack of fruit-flavored gum.]


[003 - Space Boots]

[Guess who got his space boots back? This kid.]

[He makes sure they're calibrated properly in an open area in D2, but after that he's zipping around as though he hadn't spent months saving up to commission a decently engineered pair. He keeps pretty high above peoples' heads as a rule, but a couple of times he tests how quickly he can cut and fire the conversion units, touching down for a couple of steps then taking off again. It's a bit like work, but it does give him a welcome sense of the familiar. Even if he was far away, he could still do what he did best.]

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?! Get the fuck down here before you kill someone!" Or himself, Jesus. Whiskey snarls up at the flying idiot, arms crossed.

Hiro Hamada | Big Hero 6

[bigdamnhiro]

[encrypted network post; TEXT]

[The encryption in question is heavy, but if you're good, you can still find a couple of sloppy weaknesses to exploit - as if it were thrown together in a hurry. Get through that and you'll find a device registered to an alias by the name of Lucky, which is no help at all if you're looking for the identity of the person at the other end of this communication.

But they kind of type like they're fourteen or they're moving too fast to give a shit about punctuation and things. Maybe both.]

ok but what does the thing they put in your spine actually do

like im sure these people know what theyre doing if they can drill new hardware into your CENTRAL NEROUS SYSTEM without paralyzing or killing you, if you ignore the part where they did it without asking because thatll give an ethics panel hives for 30 years

but why

no, let me amend that:

OH MY GOD!!!!! why

what is it made of? how does it work? and WHAT DOES IT DO kinda important like is this mind control or are they gonna plug you into a big machine or what, what is it for, and i would like an answer that's not bifrons approved and watered down here

a.k.a. the truth cuz the details are kinda fuzzy and i have some concerns

text. encrypted right back at you bruh

[fe_male]

[ hdu i'll have you know that you don't have to be a fourteen year old to type like this at all.

anyway. encryption is more or less like using a dog whistle only one that's calibrated weirdly and makes ridiculously handsome playboy engineers show up. a "dog" whistle, hah. ]

'i have some concerns'
i think im gonna nominate that for new city motto
rn i'm p sure it's something like 'mistakes were made' which is also an atrocious understatement

anyway, chronologically:
1. who knows
2. who knows
3. who knows
4. sometimes yes
5. not yet but u can use them to plug things into u which can be fun
6. who knows

we did have a guy researching them but
he disappeared so
¯\_(ツ)_/¯

lavellan \ dragon age : inquisition

[clannish]

1. Good morning.

[ Awake is good, but moving is better. Blinking through the blinding sensation of what could only be comparable to light narrowed into carpenter nails hammering against the swelled insides of her head she was stumbling before she was really moving. Light reflecting off ever metal surface, and there were no shortages of painful bright and narrow corners catching harsh white artificial light to throw her off made regaining any shred of self-possession a daunting task.

Haleth had her outbursts. Panicking as she watched herself in a mirror when she ran her fingers down the length of her spine where it had been mutilated, because she could find no other word, with bored in holes of more of that pitch black metal with a strange conformation and oscillating, delicate parts she dared not to prod. Even if it had seemingly been carved into the bone and delicate nerves of her back she felt neither pain nor discomfort. Barring the unshakable paranoia that something was inherently wrong.

She indulged disquiet for a moment, and only a moment, because she knew she had to keep moving. The form-fitting off white tunic she found slipped over her chilled with sweat and shaking torso and she shuddered at how she could see the malformations of her spine poking through the fabric, but she kept moving. Out of the metal room. Away from all this as far as she could go. Bursting flashes of running through the Fade, lungs hot and heavy as she pushed through the other side running on nothing but the ceaseless need to move and survive. The similarities are not lost on her here as she takes a breath, and leaves the room.

Padding barefoot around outside, eyes looking everywhere she fixes on the first person she sees and makes a beeline straight for them. ]

Fox William Mulder | X-Files | Native AU

[ashumanasyouare]

[Perhaps the most noticeable thing about the post is the fact that it is heavily, heavily encrypted. Someone has made damn sure that they aren’t going to be traced, at least to the best of their abilities.

If anyone is skilled enough to work through things, the glasses are registered only to TLG and any attempts to find out further information or the location of the poster merely refreshes again and again to a blank screen.]

I think I’d be justified in saying the last few weeks have been one heck of a party? Between big-league corporate corruption and covert military operations, you’d think we’d have a few minutes of reprieve. Seriously, I’m ready for a vacation here.

But now that mommy and daddy are done fighting, it seems like there are more questions than answers.

Why, preytell, does the army want control over the police force? Now they’ve come out and said that they’re going to back off when ‘things are up on their feet’ but haven’t we heard things like that before in the past. There’s definitely something there beyond what they want us to know. Not to mention the gate construction.

Color me curious, but it seems pretty suspect that it’s happening right as the grab for the police is happening, and I think a lot of people would agree. It’s just a matter of where we should be looking right now; can’t let a little smoke and mirror act distract from what could be one of the greatest political power plays since Notus.

text, set registered to LINGORMR

[complicatedliar]

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Though if the new boss isn't kidnapping people and performing surgery on their helpless bodies, that's kind of an improvement. Which is a sad fucking thing to put out there, ain't it.

Of course, I'm not sure if I agree with your supposition that there were police before the messy divorce. Haven't seen any toddling by any time in recent memory.

[onthepoint]

[ Arthur wakes up slowly from a nightmare and the strangest part is that he'd been dreaming at all. Scientists had been prodding at him and it seems like such a silly dream now. He's never really been afraid of anything like that. It's not until he opens his eyes that he panics.

He doesn't know where he is or what this place is, but it's not familiar and it's not right. It's a dream and not a very well-disguised one, either, but he doesn't know what kind of sedative he's on, so he doesn't have much choice other than to figure out who has him here and what they want.

There's an outfit laid out for him, but no gun and while he's not surprised, he's a little disappointed. As he gets dressed, though, he does find a nice metal pen in his pocket. It'll have to do for now.

Slipping out of the room, he walks quietly, sticking close to the walls and looking for whoever's keeping him here. ]

apologies for lack of HTML; phone tagging

[complicatedliar]

[If he ends up out on the street, he'll find someone, though not the person responsible.

He's a tall man, dressed fashionably in the city's style, if in green and black. His black hair is short and in messy curls.]

Oh look. Fresh meat.

[He drawls the words into a sardonic joke.]

Raphael | TMNT 2012

[themostattitude]

[Audio, because like hell he’s going to send a video of himself out there for all the world to see, he doesn’t know you and chances are he won’t like you. Plus, it just ain’t ninja.]

Yeah, so I stopped listening to the nice man’s yammerin’ about five syllables in. All I know is…if someone doesn’t start talkin’ and fast I might have t’ start bustin’ some heads in. And believe me when I say, that would just make my day.

[So far it’s been pretty shitty. This wasn’t his home. His family was nowhere in sight. And now he had to keep himself hidden from a new city filled with strange people…and those filthy bathrooms he’d been warned about.

Of course there’s always the exception, and kicking shell was always the exception.]

So, with as few words as possible someone had better answer my questions. [Because he hasn’t the time or patience for long winded answers, just get to the point.]

Where am I?
Why am I here?
What have you done to my body?
Where’re my sensei and my brothers? If they’re hurt I swear I’ll hit you so hard you’ll have to unzip your pants just to say “hello!” Get it?
Oh, and once we’re done with that, where’s the exit?

elena gilbert ( the vampire diaries )

[whinings]

[ option a :: #1 network time ]

[ she's not wearing the glasses, and the video feed shows a beautiful view of her shoulder and the ceiling above her as elena inspects the things closely before speaking to them. she's about as trusting of this device working as she is this whole concept, but...that's hardly anything new or unsurprising. ]

Before anything else, I need to know if there's a way of checking on what we've left behind. [ she's trying to sound all Brave and Business mode, but it's not exactly easy. body mods and space zombies? this isn't the nicest concept to swallow, and she's not entirely convinced this isn't some shady mystic falls plot twist. who knows what freaky scenarios witches or vampires could be implanting in her mind, right? ] Even if we can't go back, I just- I need to know what's happening there.

[ there was going to be more - more questions, some request for explanations - but she seems to realise that it isn't worth it, or maybe that it just isn't that important to her right now. either way, beyond a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she doesn't ask anything further, and just signs off with a slightly dejected:

That's all.

[ option b :: #6 adventure time ]

[ why is she out here again? god only knows, honestly. when the list of names that had been 'volunteered' for the supposedly 'opt in' mission, elena had been more than confused to see hers halfway down the list - after all, there were plenty of people here that were stronger, more suited for combat, more suited in just about every way really. still, despite the insistence of 'voluntary' elena hasn't witnessed anyone say no to a slot yet, which is why she's suited up out there.

she's jumpy enough about being out there that when she hears a sound behind her she spins sharply, sanctum issued weapon raised and eyes wide as she nearly strikes-- until she recognises the person stood behind her and lets out a sigh of relief. ]

Don't do that! [ she forces out a laugh, still a little nervous. ] What if I'd taken your head off?

[lol yeah ok elena as if ]

option b

[unforgivably]

Then, I'd be one dead vulnerable vampire, wouldn't I?

[ you think he was going to let you be volunteered alone? guess who signed himself up and put his name on the after, after list to look after you? if you think it's this guy (and his brother) then you're right, elena. powers of stealth or not, he still does a mean sneak up on you without making a sound. ]

Now, let's talk about what on Bifrons chrome planet you're thinking. [ yes, he gets it. volunteered. but, you're talking to someone who skipped out on the civil war. going AWOL is perfectly acceptable.

he woke up, saw the list of names, realized Elena had done the dumb, martyrable thing, and promptly went to work getting her undrafted.

the best he could do was volunteer as tribute ] Go home, Elena.

Harry Lockhart - Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - 4

[canisayfuckmore]

Hey so, anyone else getting this weird shit coming up on their screens? Messages and shit. Like a whole bunch of people butt-texting me at the same time.

[whatmatters]

It used to be called pocket dialing. [So dry. A pause.] I'm seeing them too.

Erik Lehnsherr - X-men (FC and DoFP)

[alreadybetter]

Erik is sitting very carefully upright. His elbows tucked in at his sides, his spine straight. He is in control. He is. Because if he weren't... if he weren't...

He's in a cell. They have him in a cell and they've cut into his back. They've cut into him and he can feel the metal there inside his spine where they cut into him inside his flesh where they cut -

He reaches out and picks up the glasses. His hand shakes, the glasses bend, the metal frames distorting under his fingers. Erik lets his breath out from between his teeth. Smooth, slow. The frames inch back into their correct shape and he puts them on, the view from the lenses swirling round as the camera turns.

He says nothing, makes no move to communicate, just sits there, still, silent and full of banked hatred.


[ooc: If crazy angry Erik is a tough sell, I'm happy to do any of the other scenarios instead!]

[Voice]

[tearmeanewone]

[Elizabeth watches the long stretch of silence for a moment.]

Did you need any help?

[beforeblue]

Option 1: Intro
Waking up in a hospital room was pretty much expected. He remembered going under after all, the anticipation of what was to come. Waking up alone in a hospital room with that creepy as fuck video playing on a loop in the background, that however was not expected.

Neither was the silence.

They'd been pretty clear about what to expect when he got his AI, and he'd listened to the others explain what it felt like when you woke up, with varying degrees of usefulness. North: probably accurate. York: mostly accurate but probably embellished. Wyoming: He'd stopped paying attention with all the gloating. Carolina? Eh, she hadn't exactly been approachable recently, and asking Maine just seemed cruel somehow.

Wash couldn't hear anything. Just his own thoughts. He thought that he could remember a voice, a faint touch of something else, but then.... nothing.

The hallway outside didn't have guards or nurses, but it clearly wasn't the Mother of Invention. Which begged the question of where he actually was. And how long he'd been out. An attack would surely have been something that he would wake up for, no matter how heavily sedated, and if he'd been captured or moved, then why leave him alone?

Honestly, the emptiness of the place was way more unsettling than being shot at. He was used to being shot at. He was not used to being allowed to just walk out of a building that he'd been taken to for who knew what purpose.

Not that he had any idea of where he was going or what this city was.



Option 2: Cats
The guy who had introduced himself as Caboose, and had not stopped talking like they were old friends even when Wash had no freaking clue who he was, had left him alone in a pretty comfortable lounge, and had dumped a kitten on his lap as he went off to call someone.

He stared at the furry little creature which was investigating his armour fearlessly.

It was really, really cute.

2

[bothbarrels]

North and Caboose hadn't interacted much—in fact, he's not sure how Caboose knew to get a hold of him—but he happens to be out with the dog for their morning run when the call comes in. He's close enough to be able to make it to where Wash is on foot, and he arrives with Duke in tow.

"Hey, Wash," he says. "Nice to see you again." He settles in on the settee next to Wash and pats his shoulder. "Now the big question—do you remember this place?"

Agent South Dakota

[team_player]

4

[It's a simple glitch, but poignant. If the glasses get bumped just right, they've been recording snippets of video, and release to the network as a compilation once a full minute has been reached.

In South's case it starts usually after she drops them on a table or window sill or other hard surface; the feed cuts in with some static to show her continuing her live oblivious to her mechanical spy.

They're usually quick bits, but represent a full day for her; morning weapon field strip and cleaning. Lunch; meager, picked at without enthusiasm. Afternoon jog, drops glasses, which are picked up by a stranger who calls after her. She seems startled by the interaction. Dinner; wine and cigarettes. Rooftop. ]

7

Fight Club.

South dominates. She's back under her previous pseudonym, Badlads Brawler, and has become known for her ruthless fighting style which boasts a greater venom than her previous rounds. She's in the ring, white bandages on her hands stained with sweat and blood, ready for the next contender. Are you there to watch? Bet? Or possibly attempt to throw your fists against hers?

4, texttext from Lingormr

[complicatedliar]

Honey bun, you might want to fix your glasses.

Nice bra, by the way.

Steve Rogers | MCU (CRAU)

[neversurrender]

Waking Up

[Steve wishes he could say that this was his first experience waking up somewhere with no memory how it had happened. The last time this had occurred he'd woken up with wings and had spent over two years stranded in a village.

It takes him no time at all to find the changes that had been made to his body. The weight of his wings are noticeably missing, instead replaced with metal...things going down his spine. He nudges at one of the ports with a frown. What are these things? The last thing he needs is another useless body modification given without his consent.

He approaches the table and gathers up the items laying out for him, frowning deeper when he realizes he hasn't been given a change of clothes. His thoughts are interrupted when the monitor begins playing its message. A virus. Most of the population wiped out. Steve is barely able to wrap his head around it all before he watches as a rabid corpse lunges at the man who had been speaking.

Bile rises in his throat as he stumbles away from the table. One word resounded in his head over and over: zombie. They had brought him here because they thought he was immune. Little did they know he had been infected once. Maybe not by this particular virus, but one like it. Without thinking, he grabs up his items and dashes out of the room. He's not sure where he should be going, but anywhere is better than be stuck in that room with the monitor.]

Bar

[A blond man is sitting hunched against the bar. Three empty shot glasses are lined up before him as he currently downs a fourth. As he motions to the bartender for another, someone might notice that he's beginning to slump even more, as if he's struggling to keep himself upright.

Help a bro out?]

Bar

[stopmjolnirtime]

[ It was not often that Thor had time to mind the bar he used to frequent in this district, less often that he was paid to do so. Usually a favor for cheap ale and a few useful scraps of information that could be gleaned by sitting and listening- so twas fortuitous indeed that he enters and sidles up to the bar in time to recognize the back of a familiar head. Listing when he should not have been able to do so- it seems the good Captain is likewise diminished.

Thor takes his ale as given and moves to the stool next to Steve's, resting a wide, warm hand on his shoulder. ]

Tis both heartening and wearying to see you here, my friend. I had hoped that no more from our realm would be brought to this place.

Cole | Dragon Age Inquisition

[tosuffer]

Glitches

Listen to me, you guys are our only hope.

[He repeats the message that he first got from this place. His face doesn't seem to be very convinced by this though. He starts to pace, right there in the middle of the street, muttering lowly, viciously under his breath.]

This place destroys them, breaks them down, yet it still wants more of them.

[The locals start to back away from him. What's wrong with this boy? He hears them whispering, asking, thinking. There was so much around him, so many people, feelings, and thoughts. His communicator starts to hum, with voices and mixed up words.]

Make them forget, make them change, make them into someone else. Twisting, defiling, screaming, but they are the hope.

[The voices continue, forming sentences of nonsense. He isn't sure if these voices are real or if they are just something to trick him. He feels the emotion from so many people around him fear, desperation, hope.

His body freezes. The people around him still move, some bumping into him but all were trying ignore the mad man he obviously was. His head tilts up toward the sky, staring the dome.]

We need hope.

Loki | MCU/American Gods AU

[silvertonguedtrickster]

Bar:

Loki sat at a table in a dimly lit corner of the bar. Tonight was set for one part people watching and one part drinking. When he had arrived he hadn't bothered to ask questions or even introduce himself over the network. He didn't care who knew him, and gathering information was easy enough just by paying attention. Most seemed to ignore him, or maybe they didn't even notice him. He shrugged one shoulder as he sipped his drink. Not that it mattered.

Upon arrival he had found a few sets of his clothing and his cellphone. For a trip to a bar he had decided to wear black jeans, a forest green t-shirt and black sneakers. His long black hair hung loose over his shoulders. It seemed they had catered to all three of his personas in terms of clothing.

The dim light flickered across his vivid green eyes, making them almost seem to glow with an inner fire as he quietly observed the other patrons. Two men at the bar were engaged in a heated argument about politics. Loki expected it to erupt into a fist fight at any moment.


Streets:

Well, that had been the strangest place he had ever woken up in, and that was saying something for Loki. At least his own clothing had been there. Just the idea of having to roam in that medical gown was enough to make him scowl.

First impressions were everything, so he had dressed in a crisp white button down, black suit and neutral green tie. His long black hair was combed back into a neat ponytail, and his black shoes shined in the city lights.

He strolled along the street with little purpose, hands stuffed in his pockets. So far he knew little about what was going on. Too little for him, anyway. Loki thought a walk in the cool night air would do him good. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. It gave him time to clear his head and familiarize himself with the city all at once.

Bar? 83

[tearmeanewone]

Unfortunately, said men were Elizabeth's coworkers, and she'd had just about enough of their posturing as well. But she'd never actually been to a work outing like this, so she had almost no idea when it was polite to leave. She cast her eyes around the bar, and when she spotted Loki she thought she had a perfect out. Friend she hadn't seen in a while, be right back, no please, don't stop on my account--

She brought her drink with her over to the table, grinning all the way. "Help me," she mutters, still grinning. "My head's about to explode. If we're even tentative friends, you'll let me sit, Loki."

Ruvik | The Evil Within

[ruvik]

Network
Subject 12-C exhibits interesting resistance to the effects of the virus. Skin should be at a far more advanced level of deterioration. Much of it appears healthy, but previous study indicates the likely development of lesions within the next few hours.

Subject's Cerebral Cortex has also proved resilient. Memory and language skills remain remarkably intact at this stage of infection. Subject is aware of what is happening and communicates desire for death over the alternative. That wish cannot be granted.

The Cerebellum displays even fewer signs of deterioration. A common factor with most subjects thus far, but 12-C's appears almost normal.

Fear response is interfering with rational thought. Practical conversation is impossible at this point. Subject rambles about the inevitable loss of self, or verbatim, loss of soul.

12-C will be monitored closely until the infection is overpowering, but I believe this delay shows promise. I hope to find similar subjects for further comparison.

Aaaaction? 8D Llllet me know if this isn't cool and I'll fix...? 8D;;

[tearmeanewone]

[Elizabeth is quick to jump on the posting and put a trace on it. There are only a few things that cause her to go off without running it by anybody else, and experimentation is one of them. She paces around her desk, waiting for the trace to come back, getting her protective gear on, her service weapon, and tazer-glove.]

[She's suited up and ready when the ping comes back, and she's out the door. Without Taylor, there isn't going to be any dramatic entrance-- but she doesn't want one. She climbs up the side of the building, onto the roof, and enters from a ventilating duct. She's as quiet as she can manage, but she's still only human.]

[Elizabeth peers through the dark, tranquilizer gun up, wondering if she even has the right place.]