( 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

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.

Re: Casino

[dream_bigger_darling]

Native. Max screamed it to Eames' trained eye. In dream terms, Max would be part of the subconscious, someone who belonged there, part of it from the beginning. If only this was a dream. It would make things so much simpler, in the long term, but his life was never so easy. Besides, if this was a dream, he wouldn't be in the casino attempting to augment his meager fortunes, he simply would have manipulated it into being so. But again, life was never so easy for him.

But a native could be used, and he needed that now. Someone to use, to coax information from. It really wasn't so different than dealing with someone in the subconscious, and he'd had plenty of training in real life dealing with it as well. Making sure his outfit was neat but not to slick, letting his hair come a bit out of the carefully swept back look he tended to like, he grabbed his drink and meandered over to Max with gate that said buzzed, but not drunk, roguish but not a criminal.

"What do you think of them, mate?" he asked, taking the seat beside Max and sipping from his glass.

Re: Casino

[abjurer]

Being approached is not something unusual, although he's been seeking company less and less over recent months and the times he's stuck around long enough to make any sort of connection are virtually nil. Still, there's no harm in talking and it doesn't pay to be rude to someone who he's got no grudge against.

Max leans back against the bar, his own drink held loosely in his hand. He's far from drunk himself and hadn't been planning to get that way.

"I think they spend too much time playing poker."

Re: Casino

[dream_bigger_darling]

Relaxed, but not loose, no slurring to his words. Not drunk, and probably not looking to be so. Considering the time of night, if he was aiming for that, he could be much deeper in his cups. Of course he could be getting a late start, but who got a late start in a casino?

"Poor saps, right?" he shook his head sadly. "Any games you recommend?"

Re: Casino

[abjurer]

He glances over at the man, looking him over quickly. "If I have to play, I usually prefer Blackjack. Short attention span," he said with a grin. "Want a drink?"

Re: Casino

[dream_bigger_darling]

"More chance than strategy," he nodded in agreement, like it made perfect sense. Full lips turned up slightly in a smile and he nodded, jangling his own glass which was mostly empty, somewhat watery even. "I think I could do with another round. What's your name, friend?"

Re: Casino

[abjurer]

"I like to feel lucky," Max replied with a small smile. "What do you drink? My round. And I'm Max. You?"

Re: Casino

[dream_bigger_darling]

"Hmm, and less chance of losing all your quarters to a machine," he nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly to indicate interest, leaning in forward just a touch. "Eames. And I'll take another scotch if you don't mind. That's a gambling man's drink."

Re: Casino

[abjurer]

"You'd be lucky to find a machine here that only took quarters." It was one of the more expensive casinos. Nothing was that cheap. "Nice to meet you." He ordered a couple more glasses of scotch, one each. "Good taste."

/sneaks in here

[onthepoint]

If Arthur already thought this was a dream, it was only confirmed when he caught sight of Eames in the crowd, but it left more questions than it provided answers. Enemies weren't anything new in Arthur's line of work, but he didn't think he'd done anything lately to involve kidnapping and extraction.

As he moved cautiously closer to Eames, he wasn't sure what would be worse, a poor forge of Eames that turned out to be someone else or the real thing working against him. He'd never know if he didn't interact with him, right? He was pretty sure he could tell the real Eames from a fake, at least.

Waiting for Eames to finish his actions, he watched Eames' mark walk away before he approached Eames, grabbing his wrist.

"Stealing from projections?"

why hello

[dream_bigger_darling]

The touch to his wrist shocked him, turning his head sharply to see who the offender was, losing sight of his mark in the process. Stupid mistake, Eams. But it turned out to be well worth losing the man (he could find him again, he was almost painfully simple to figure). Dark eyes widened at the sight of Arthur, full lips parting slightly in an 'O' of shock.

"Arthur?" he hissed, smoothing his features for the benefit of the other people at the table. "What a surprise," he continued, motioning to the chair beside him. "Have a seat, won't you?" Calm, and yet his mind swirled, fingers running a poker chip over his knuckles as his only show of agitation.

Hi there :D

[onthepoint]

Without protest, he sat down next to Eames, but there was clear scrutiny in his face. "It is a surprise." And far too much of a coincidence for his comfort.

"What are you doing here?" Why beat around the bush when he could get down to it. Eames had to know that Arthur knew what this was, assuming this even was the real Eames, which Arthur wasn't yet convinced of.

Re: Hi there :D

[dream_bigger_darling]

He expected the scrutiny. He had done the same when he first got here, always expecting the people around him to turn on him like a pack of wolves, or the landscape to crumble. He had seriously contemplated throwing himself off something, but this didn't feel like any dream he'd been in and common sense said he would do better to wait it out or try on of his dream tricks (which hadn't worked).

But now Arthur was here, and there was no possible way he could be here - not like this, not with warm fingers around his wrist, and speaking to him with that kind of suspicion. He didn't think he could make him up so thoroughly in his subconscious.

"Well, according to the rather well produced video I saw, I'm here to help these lovely people find a cure for some disease," he shrugged, continuing to roll the poker chip. "And yourself? Casinos aren't your scene, mate."

[onthepoint]

Arthur bristled, entirely put off by the idea of Eames lying to him like that. Sure, Eames wasn't always truthful, but Arthur had thought better of him.

"None of this is my scene. The casino is hardly a surprise." If he was honest, he couldn't easily explain why he was here in the casino. He'd felt drawn to it, as if he could maybe find something familiar, if uncomfortable, within. Everything else seemed so unfamiliar by comparison. He hadn't come in here to gamble, but maybe he had come in here to get away from the strangeness of the architecture outside.

He leaned in close, voice low so that only Eames could hear him.

"I know this is a dream and if you're not really Eames, you're in over your head."

[dream_bigger_darling]

More than anything, Eames wished to tell him it was a dream. He really did. He wished he could push Arthur backgrounds and send him to the waking world, but they were already in it. No escape from that, except into a dream, as it were, but Eames had never found the solace in dreams that people like Cobb had, or the people in that basement.

He stops the roll of the poker chip, reaching into his pocket and tugging out the special one he always kept on him. A forged one, a perfect forgery except for one, minute little detail that only he could know. He'd tried, numerous times, to smooth that imperfection away - but he couldn't. It remained, always. No dream, this. He flashed it between his fingers.

"It's not a dream, Arthur," he said softly, keeping his voice low, to the outside it would seem they were having an intimate conversation. "I've tried everything I know to check, and it's not a dream." Or at least he didn't think so, and he was well versed enough to be a good judge.

[onthepoint]

There was almost a sense of jealousy as Arthur eyed the chip. His own totem is nowhere to be found and while Arthur had never expected himself to end up like Mal, he was finding himself looking for it desperately like a lost crutch. Maybe that was why he'd found himself in the casino to begin with.

"I'm not trying to scare you, but you know that's exactly what you'd say if you were a forgery of Eames trying to lull me into a false sense of security, don't you?"

His voice was calm and even, mostly because that was just how Arthur was, but in part because Arthur wasn't sure what was really better. Did he want this to be real? Was that actually better than the prospect of fighting off an extraction team?

[dream_bigger_darling]

"Possibly. But you know you've tried manipulating the surroundings yourself. You can't do that Escher-style of dreaming you love so much, can you?" he asked, tossing out that little nugget of knowledge in hopes Arthur would believe him just a bit. It was a quirk he was pretty sure only he would know here, but it was a gamble all the same.

A cough behind him drew his head back around to the dealer. He nodded his head and pushed a few chips forward and tossed down his cards - full house, Kings high. The other players groaned, but Eames' attention was back on Arthur. Every action should have made the subconscious look at him, glare, but there was nothing - only humans playing away their cash and for some their own dreams.

[onthepoint]

It could have been whatever they put him under with. Really, it could have been half a dozen things Arthur could think of and another two dozen he hadn't yet come up with, but for now he was going to let the topic lie until he had more information.

Maybe the most distressing thing was that he wasn't really sure whether this was the real Eames or not and just as he wasn't sure whether it would be worse for it to be a dream or not, he wasn't sure if it was better that this was the real Eames and this was a dream, that meant that Eames had betrayed him. They'd had their differences and their bickering over the years, but Eames had been one of the few people in their line of work that Arthur had never expected that from.

"No, I can't." He gave Eames a sidelong glance. "I think I need a drink."

because now I gotta

[tohopeagain]

Charles might not have been the most interesting of souls to watch, but he did have this uncanny gift for walking and reading at the same time that gave him all the appearance of being distracted and aloof--the perfect mark for the petty theft types. Unfortunately the mutant wasn't as aloof as he might like to be, he liked his small world, but somehow it had gotten bigger and more involving...and so rapidly too. It restored his cognition, both of himself and of those around him making him remarkably perceptive even without his telepathy.

"I don't have much, but what I do have I'm willing to share. You don't have to steal," it's both kindness and admonishing in the same accented breath, all without looking up from the pages of his book, "unless of course you're trying to cop a feel, then we might have to discuss such incongruous behavior."

Re: because now I gotta

[dream_bigger_darling]

That brought Eames up short, full lips pursing the tiniest bit between impressed and irritated. It was rare that he got caught (at least, not when he didn't mean to get caught). Which of course meant that Charles now had his full attention. At least the man wasn't yelling at him or calling for the police, which only served to make Eames remind himself that he shouldn't have gotten caught at all. Was he getting rusty?

Eames withdrew his hand, setting it back into his own pocket and taking up stride with Charles, looking casual, as if he had meant to be there all along.

"That's the one thing I don't steal," Eames replied, his own voice a little less cultured version of Charles' English accent.

[tohopeagain]

Because Charles had come from wealth he came with an understanding that thievery was often a sign of desperation, not that there weren't other reasons to steal...there might even be a compelling explanation behind this man's reason. Either way there was no need to bring the authorities into it and the mutant was a very patient soul at the best of times. Even with all of that bearing in mind, he was rather impressed that someone would try to steal from him in broad daylight, indicating that there was at least some confidence and skill behind it.

"I should be relieved that my virtue shall remain intact," he didn't stop walking, but he did close the book...because now he had to know what he was after, or at least why, "so what was it you were hoping to acquire?"

[dream_bigger_darling]

"Well, a wallet is usually what a person goes for mostly," he shrugged, almost wishing he had a cigarette to spin between his fingers. Several of the personas he'd taken on over the years had the habit, and sometimes it filtered into his own, if only to give him something to do. "But I would have gone for whatever it is you kept in that back pocket of yours, to be frank."

This was a test drive, a way to pass his time and hone his own skills again. Passing fancy. He couldn't say he actually needed anything, except the distraction.

[tohopeagain]

"Well I don't know about a wallet..." Charles reached into his back pocket and pulled out his house keys which was all that he had tucked away in the depths of his back pocket. Dropping the keys into the strange pickpockets hands it would give him something to do with his fingers, "...it's either that or pocket lint...though I'm not sure how far lint will get you."

Charles was pretty sure that wasn't the point, the point was being able to get it without Charles knowing, the game, though he was rather sorry it didn't turn out that way.

[dream_bigger_darling]

Eames caught them, turning the keys over in his fingers, surprised and more than a little curious about this odd man who not only didn't call the police on him, but had just given him the keys to his home. Admittedly, he needed to find out where he lived to even make use of it, but there were ways. He glanced at Charles, turning the keyring to roll it around his finger idly.

"Well, perhaps I have a collection of lint I take form people's pockets," he raised his eyebrows, smirking a little.