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( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7
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.
no subject
Knowing the other like he did, he didn't miss the sudden wetness in his eyes. It was such an odd thing on a Kingsman's face that it stood out like a sore thumb. But like a proper gentleman he didn't speak of it, didn't ask what was wrong since he could probably guess. It wasn't a conversation for public ears, anyways. They could talk about it in private, later maybe, but not here. Otherwise he might loose it too. He already had before composing himself, which he still didn't feel bad about.
Though to be honest, he wouldn't know what to do with Harry if he was in hysterics. He barely had known what to do when the other was angry at him, disappointed. It had felt crushing, leaving a hollow place in his chest, a feeling he thought he'd long ago become immune to.
"With a look from twenty years ago," he countered. "You did see the wallpaper you chose, didn't you? Who chooses wallpaper anymore?" He took his scotch and raised it up slightly, holding it out to him to toast. "Cheers," he agreed, clinking before tossing the scotch back, giving his eyes a reason to burn at the edges.
"Have you looked where you're living yet?" he asked, setting his glass down.
oh hay guiz, ok if I butt in on this reunion hella late?
He had come into the bar first and foremost to get a scotch into him, because waking up in what appeared to be another time, if not another world, rather made him think he might deserve it. Secondly, bars and public houses were a good source of intelligence as they were in the business of selling social lubricant. Most people with a few drinks in them were inclined to be indulgent, especially if you were willing to foot the bill for another.
But Merlin hadn't quite gotten to that second step yet, because about as soon as he walked through the door, he'd seen Gary "Eggsy" Unwin swirling out of his booth and into another, embracing a figure whose face Merlin could not see at the time, but was nonetheless a familiar shape. He definitely needed the drink then.
The more time that passed while he sat at that bar, observing, the more real the situation became to him. Merlin was a man who believed in facts and evidence before he entertained speculation or his own feelings. While he certainly didn't want to believe that he'd been unceremoniously removed from what he considered to be his rightful place, there was nonetheless evidence to support that he had been, and in such a way that the probability of returning any time soon did not appear to be a promising one. In this case, however, it was much the opposite. He wanted to believe what he was seeing was the truth, and the more he watched the two men in their booth, the more gestures or the stray note of a voice rang with familiarity, and the more it appeared as if his desires might be in line with the facts.
But of course, he had to be sure. Not only that, it was imperative he make his own presence known to the one compatriot he was certain was there.
"Gentlemen," Came the dark Scottish brogue as Merlin came to stand beside the table. His arms were behind him in a military man's parade rest, holding his drink hidden in one hand. "Now this is a turn-up for the books, isn't it? May I join you?"
As if he had bumped into them both in an out of the way pub in London, rather than a bar in another universe. As if one of them wasn't dead when they left it.
But Merlin's casualness aside, there was only one direction for the eyes behind the new pair of glasses, and that was directly on the face of Harry fucking Hart.