contagio | ( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7

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( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7

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.

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[Bianca recognizes Sera from her brief visit to Skyhold, and it can't hurt to zero in on a familiar face. Misery loves company, and more importantly, company is good to have in unknown territory.]

Putting a saddle on a cat? [She grins.] Think it'll do anything other than try to bite it off?

Whff- [Fenris has no elf-y, rogue-y stealth, so he just gets punched in the face.]

It's the generic engi-whatever, yeah? Cats in saddles are like...nothing. [duh, Varric's friend that she saw once maybe from a distance-ish]

Making cats is one thing. Making them mind might be another. [Duh, Varric's verbal sparring partner she recollects only by sight. She looks over Sera's drawing.] If you can get it to keep the saddle on, you could shoot swords from here. Wouldn't be hard to rig it. Then it can use its mouth to meow.

[And the obvious follow-up to a successful punch is to double up your fist and throw another one.

So Sera does, with the most ferocious yell she can muster.]

Well that'd be a bit shit, wouldn't it? Why'd you want meowing when you can have pointy things flying about? Never heard of anyone losing their guts over a meow.

[But wait! Her face lights up as an even better idea strikes her.]

We could do both! Mouth swords and saddle swords, I mean -- not the meowing. That's rubbish.

[Get punched once, shame on you. Get punched twice... well, you won't get punched again. Fenris counters with a block, holding his arm out so Sera's fist can connect with his armor. He then goes to try and kick her down, so maybe she'll stop with all the punching.]

It's not much of a cat if it doesn't meow.

[Sera's the kind of woman you talk to just to see what she says next, and it's making Bianca grin.]

Why stop there? Saddle swords on both sides.

So, why Blackwall?

Edited 2015-01-28 20:54 (UTC)

The birdy one. [ He tilts his head, tucks a forefinger into his cheek as though confronted with something both fascinating and very difficult to remember. ] Falcon? Sparrow? Tufted titmouse?

[ If she punches him he deserves it. ]

Edited 2015-02-01 08:10 (UTC)

Casino | Action

_{[ 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. ]}

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.

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. ]

{ 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?

{ 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!

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.

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.

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."

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?"

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...

Edited 2015-03-01 06:12 (UTC)

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?"

"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?"

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

"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."

"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."

He accepted his glass with good form and tipped it towards Max in thanks before taking a gentle sip. Good stuff, top shelf. Yes, he would need to cultivate a friendship with this one.

"Let a man dream, Max, let a man dream," he shook his head as the warmth hit his belly. "Even poor men are allowed to pretend in these hallowed halls."

Max didn't drink his straight away, kept it between his hands, swilling it around the glass. "I'd feel bad if someone lost everything because I said they had a good chance of winning."

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( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7

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Eames | Inception | Tags or Prose

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

Merrill | Dragon Age 2

Leliana | Dragon Age: Origins

Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Celty Sturluson | DRRR!!/Sanctum AU

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino

Re: Casino