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( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 8
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. Bifrons Annual Gala. All the creme de la creme--and the Immune--are invited to the Bifrons annual gala, filled with food (real meat!) and drink (sunshine in a glass!) and expensive clothing you could want. Do you have anything to wear? Are you going to use this opportunity to schmooze, to sneak around to find some answers while everyone is distracted, or be an awkward wallflower? Or scoff at home about how everyone is so concerned with these silly events instead of cures?
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. Down with the Sickness. Something's going around. Is it a cold? The flu? Something worse? Are you immune to it, or just lucky? Are you sitting in a hospital waiting room, hoping to get seen, or just holed up in bed with the sniffles? Someone should bring you some soup and keep you company! Or complain with you.
5. Sewer Run. There's something (or somethings) lurking beneath the streets of Proles. You and other lucky people have been picked out, given a gun and a flashlight, and told good luck. What do you find down there? What finds you? Was that a cot and some discarded tablets in that alcove?
6. Outside the Dome. You're out and about without an armed escort, suited up against the atmosphere and dysthropes. Nothing could possibly go wrong...until it does. Was that a dysthrope moving...or a person?
7. WILDCARD. Choose your own adventure or create a cocktail from the presented options! The choice is YOURS.
Aradia Megido | Homestuck
It's not the first time Aradia has woken up in an unfamiliar setting, wearing unfamiliar clothes, with hazy memories as to how she's gotten there. What is interesting, however, is that she can't understand why. The chains and loops of time, which she was once able to read like a book, are closed off to her. She can neither hear the voices of the dead, nor does she know what role she'll play in this new awakening. It's disorienting, to say the least.
Aradia's attention falls on the transmission, the only other sound in the room besides her own breathing. Death and destruction? It sounds like the end times.
Perfect. She can't wait to explore. Out the door she goes, into this brave new world.
network
[Time to try out these communication-glasses. She's set up a handle and is sending messages out to the network, eager to meet new, maybe alive, friends. Messages from apocalypseArisen appear in red text, without any accompanying images or audio.]
hello!
i must say the ambiance of your planet is very nice
although everyone here seems so sad
why?
text
By which I mean we're specifically brought here to be tortured and experimented on without our consent.
At least we can find friends in the other hostages, though. I'm Orion. You're new, I take it?
Re: text
text
Re: text
Natasha Romanoff | MCU (just reposting from last TDM <3)
Once she's outside, she looks at what people are wearing and does her best to fit in.
She slips through crowds like she knows where she's going, like she has any idea what this place is, but the more she walks, the more strange this place seems and she finds herself keeping an eye out for anything familiar.
As she walks, she comes across stores selling clothes and food and she spends a good amount of time perusing and listening to the conversations around her. After a while, she finds the casino and its bar and continues her watching there, carefully casual.
Nat~ 8D
Instead of moving on he ends up swinging his cart around and heading off in the same direction as the redhead. He's halfway down the next aisle when he sees her just standing there looking around as if nothing is wrong. As if they hadn't been kidnapped and brought here against their will. She's always had the better poker face.
His approach is a little hesitant as he realizes that she might not know who he is. She could be from a time before meeting him, or like Loki, from an alternate universe altogether. But none of that stops him from pushing his cart up next to her and giving her a small smile.
"Hey stranger."
Wanda Maximoff - Marvel Cinematic Universe
1) A rude awakening
The screams could be heard from the hall. They were loud, shrill, and barely even words. Then, there was the sound of glass breaking. The screen that played the message hadn't even been able to get past a few words before it had been bashed against the table until it shattered and fell silent. After that, there was silence.
A few moments later, Wanda Maximoff stalked out of the room.
She was still dressed in her hospital gown, but her rings were on her fingers. At least the people who'd done this to her had given her that much. But she still had too many questions. Someone would have answers for her.
Which was why she had a long shard of the monitor in her hand, wielded like a knife.
She walked the hall silently, looking for others. If she happened to get behind someone? They might soon find her makeshift weapon at their throats.
3) A better you
To say that Wanda embraced the idea of upgrades was a major understatement.
If she didn't have her powers, then she would make herself something stronger. If she wanted to survive, she had to make sure of it.
So, her third month in the Sanctum, she was undergoing her third enhancement. Her first had been accelerated healing, and she'd followed that with a fortified skeleton. This time, it was the injury body weave. After that, she had plans for others. First, she'd make herself more durable. Then, she could make herself a better combatant.
She looked over at one of the other people waiting for the employees to be ready for them.
"What are you getting?"
5) Watch where you step
Wanda was happy for the assignment. The gun in her hand felt strange, but she'd learned to use one. She just wasn't used to carrying it, to actually having her life depend on it. At the very least, she had something to do.
Which meant something.
It gave her a purpose, a focus.
She moved around a corner, just like her partner had the last one, holding the flashlight with one hand and the gun with the other, only to find nothing. Which made her both irritated and relieved. She hadn't wanted to come face to face with something, but she also didn't want to be just wasting her time.
"Clear."
1, gimmie those sweet spoilers
There was a gathering of supplies, watching the video, an itching at her brain she kept trying to scratch--something like...surgery, her hair draped down in front of her, facing the floor. Pressure, but pain, no, no pain--
Also wasn't the first time she'd had something unfamiliar and metal stuck on her, but at least that she could rip off. Ports embedded into her back...worrisome. She waited, for a time, at first patiently, in case someone was to come. It allowed her to fully wake up and take stock in what she was given. Novelties, it seemed. Things that had meaning to her, but nothing useful as a weapon straight up. Nothing that seemed actually hers. Memory reading? Exactly what she needed, more mental invasion. And she hadn't been able to fight this time.
At last, she gathered herself up. Out the door. She hadn't broken the glass, no, but she had broken apart one of her novelties, jagged edges a hopeful deterrent. Not enough, however, to protect her from a surprise attack from behind.
She did not drop her makeshift weapon, only clutching it tighter. "You aren't going to kill me," she intoned, trying to keep the panic down. "So you might as well drop the threat." She was betting on a guard, a captor, although a fellow escapee worked just as well.
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1. spoilers are fine but Steve hasn't canon updated yet!
By now he figured he's seen every type of reaction a person could have to their situation. Blistering anger, fear, confusion, carefully composed calm...but not this. This reaction was new to him, at least under these circumstances. He held himself completely still under the shard she held to his throat and silently cursed himself for not sensing someone come up behind him sooner.
"If you think I'm one of the ones responsible for you being here, you're wrong. Why don't you drop that and we can talk?"
totally cool! ...Wanda's not in much of the 'recognizing' state, so.
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Cassandra Cillian - The Librarians
Oh! Oh dear! Ohhh dear!
[It's quietly muttered as she walks out of the room. That transmission? Freaky. Not as scary as having to worry about alternate timelines and all that Eve had mentioned.
She couldn't even remember how she'd gotten here. She couldn't remember that her mini clip-book had brought her here. At least she still had it. It was entirely blank, though, which was probably the scariest thing about all of this.
Even worse than the metal in her back. Because, well, she'd gone through a lot to get her first diagnosis. That? She could deal with. But being completely cut off from the others and her clip-book not working? Not cool.
Then, there was someone. Someone else.]
Oh! Hi! [Cassandra hurried over, trying to smile a little and giving a bit of a wave.] I'm Cassandra!
So... Um... Where am I supposed to go? I mean... This is really weird. I mean really weird, and I'm used to weird.
6.
Okay. You're okay. Just breathe.
[With the suit, she felt pretty safe, but that wasn't totally good enough. After all, there were zombies out there. Maybe they weren't called that, but they were totally zombies.
She really wished they'd given her some kind of weapon. Or a guardian. Librarians were supposed to have Guardians. Why couldn't she have one here?
But at least she wasn't alone. She had the person she was making the supply run with. So, she had someone to talk to, at least. And--]
I just saw something move.
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No Ponds, no Clara, nobody to put up a front for. Until bubbly, nervous Cassandra catches him. Then, after a moment of assessing her and the situation, he ticks a bit of a grin of his own, rubbing his hands together.]
That's all right, Cassandra; I'm the Doctor, and I'm used to plenty weirder than this. Hold on a tic--how'd you end up here? Clean room, odd pod, poor fellow explaining that we're supposed to be immune? Or was I just special?
...Granted, I am, but I don't want to gloat if that's the welcome they give everybody.
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Darcy Lewis | MCU | because I apparently can't stay away ♥
[It's not exactly something pleasant to wake up to, not when she'd just been chillin' in the kitchen after a hard day's work helping to save the universe. Pulling herself up off the table, taking her time thanks to the roofie levels of grogginess she's feeling, there's an almost weird sense of déjà vu. Like she's been here before, in this room - this place. Rather than linger on it, she finally makes her move to pull herself off the table to actually check things out. There's an audible sigh of relief when she sees her clothes neatly stacked next to her messenger bag. Fingers deftly move over to her taser, quick to toss the now useless piece aside.
Alright, plan b.
Instead of her phone, she finds some weird glasses. It takes a hot minute to get with the program, scrolling through the network before deciding to make a post of her own after dressing and discovering the lovely hardware added to her back.
Shiitake mushrooms. Deep breath, act cool because this place is freaky as hell.]
Why did the martian throw beef on the asteroid? He wanted it a little meaty-or. [HAHAHAHA, slight situational deflection with humor, works almost every time. Someone's kinda sorta terrified because what?]
It's not everyday you get abducted and wake up on a metal table with a lovely zombie apocalypse style horror movie playing in the background. Is this the part where I join an alien abduction support group and show where I got probed on the little doll thing?
Ok, but no really - how am I gonna survive without Google? This is serious. [She starts to end the feed before figuring she might as well check in and see if anyone else is here.] Anybody heard of a Jane Foster, Erik Selvig, or maybe Thor? Anybody? Bueller?
4.
[Nothing like travelling all the way to space only to get a cold. That's just peachy. Sitting in the house she'd been assigned to, she's almost hard to see under all the blankets. Except for the fingers holding a mug of hot chocolate, she might be easy to miss. She should get food, or something, but that takes effort.
With a groan, she moves forward on the couch to set down the mug and reach for the device to shoot off a text. She'd been aiming for someone from home, but it's hard to focus enough to actually see if she sent it to the right person.]
Can you bring me some soup? Pretty please with a cookie on top?
7.
[Feel free to come across her wandering around the dome and getting her bearings. She was here for about a year oocly previously so if you knew her then, bring on the déjà vu.]
7! oh, Darcy...
Darcy? I'd no idea you were back.
:D
:D
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1
He's got a feeling that means she won't remember him either.
It's his worst fucking fear coming true. Again. He really isn't a fan of this being forgotten thing.
Still, he can't ignore her post. Can't even pretend to.]
Darcy? H-hey. It's uh. So it's you. Well, obviously it's you. [Hand gestures. He's a little nervous. This didn't exactly end on a good note last time.] You don't...you don't know me, do you?
\o/
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Roy Harper (Native AU)/ Arrow
The world burns outside and the rich hire someone to play the fiddle for them. Like the most important thing is dressing nice and schmoozing it up with the high and mighty players under the dome. Like they forget there's a disease holding them all hostage just outside the glass. Or, even closer, they forget there's an entire portion of the city that's poor, in need, overrun by crime and desperate people trying to get a foothole up in life.
It makes him angry. It makes him see red. And it makes it really hard to stand there and placing food on plates. Because they're so damn good they can't even pick up their own food. They actually pay someone to pick this crap up with tongs-no hands, nobody wants someone poor touching anything that's going into their mouth.
Make a new life for himself, they said. Stop committing crimes. Get a real job. Be someone better. But nobody mentions that to do that he has to cling to the underside of a designer high heel like a piece of dirty gum.
He's had about all the dirty looks he wants, or the pitiful ones, or worst of all, the ones that look at him like he's a damn ghost. Like he doesn't matter. Like he doesn't exist. Like the entirety of District Four doesn't exist. And its the last straw when a man holds out his plate with that particular look.
When Roy knocks his plate in his face with his tongs, well, the man finally looks at him. It's full of anger. But at least he's acknowledged. Being shouted at. Could have broke his nose! he shouts.
"Well, then you can just buy yourself a new one. You need the upgrade anyway."
He's not the one that swings first, but he's definitely returning the fist until it's a brawl-or the start of one until someone or security breaks it up.
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His gaze drops briefly to Roy's hands before moving back his angry face. While there is no disgust in his eyes, there is no kindness either. It is as if he were watching a not so clever dog try and fail to do a trick for him. Disinterest takes over slowly as the fight begins.
In truth, Malcolm isn't surprised. The boy across the way looks far too much like Roy Harper. It had been on the tip of Malcolm's tongue to say something until he took note of the hands. In a place like this, anything could be a trick or a gambit in a larger game. When the fight begins, he has no desire to be swept up in that, especially not for some look-alike of a man who wasn't good enough for his daughter. He only watches and waits, having nothing better to do right now.
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idk who you wanted but ringer is easiest rn
Yet she's here, in a simple yet classy black dress, hair styled into soft waves. It's a favor for Alpha, to suffer through this with him after he saved her from the Valentine's Day auction a couple months ago. The Callsign was pulled into a series of private talks almost immediately, leaving the soldier to wander and look for a way to keep herself entertained.
She's only walking by when the fight breaks out between the District 4 local and the District 1 CEO. Immediately she steps between them, nearly taking a punch to the face in the process. Ringer stares at the wealthy man, having absolutely zero intention of apologizing for whatever might have been done. "Is this what you want?"
The man mutters something about 'ungrateful children' and 'seeing the kid fired' before he turns and storms off. She ignores the curious onlookers as she turns to face the probable instigator, reaching out to take his hand - if he'll let her - before he can pursue the business magnate. He reminds her of Zombie in a way. Of him, she asks the same question. "Is this what you want?"
I will never complain about Ringer
thanks chum
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It brought some comfort that at least one other sever looked as irritated as he did with the whole affair - Roy. Or probably more irritated since he was knocking a plate into a man's face and throwing punches, women shrieking and others shouting. Glancing to the doors, he saw the hulking forms of security begin pushing through the crowd. Brilliant.
He shoved his platter into a woman, ruining a dress that cost more than his yearly salary he was sure, dodging through the crowd and up to Roy. "Mate, we gotta go. Security's comin'!" he whipped off the small apron, twisting it quickly and snapping it out to catch the rich man's hand and use it to yank him away from Roy.
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River Tam // Firefly
River wakes gasping but unmoving. Accelerating down, down gravity is a blanket and a prison. Prisons have no keys, not to the imprisoned, that's how they work. This is something River knows. The air moves in straight lines and geometric shapes, all hard. Not curved. Not filtered.
And then suddenly she flips over, off the bed, clawing at her spine. Get it out get it out she worked so hard to protect it but now she is back, back deep down, that is why the gravity presses. She cannot make a sound, the game of hide and seek has resumed. She is the little mouse. Rat. Rat's teeth can eat away at steel and there is steel in her spine. It does not hurt yet but it is coming, coming and the fear rushes over like a wave she cannot stop. A cocktail of fear and gravity cover her.
River continues to gasp and claw. Cannot scream cannot cannot. Look at the man's face on the video, you can see him. He is not going to die but he is afraid.
The video cuts off or is it her spine there are cuts everywhere. Cuts that she made and River knows that it is her cue to go. She can tell, she follows instructions when she is on a mission and the man in the feed gave her a mission.
She wants her brother.
River runs through the halls. No, labyrinth. No. Cannot be, there is no string and she is not the man in the story, they tried to make her better and without fault but they failed because stories are only for the head and they tore her's apart.
River leaves the building, running through the streets. There are gashes in her back and stains on her gown and blood on her hands. Wait. No. Not run. Skitter. She is the rat, remember?
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"Hey!" Maybe it'll be like chasing down a scared animal, but better to try and get her safe, from herself and others, rather than let her run wild and fearful and get herself more hurt. "Hold on, come here, we should get you looked at." Or maybe call the police. At least his boyfriend is a cop, so that might come in handy?
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Oliver Queen | Arrow
Schmoozing is something Oliver Queen is all too familiar with. Give him a suit and tie, a nice glass of scotch, and some wealthy people to rub elbows with, and it'll take him about ten seconds to step right into the role of suave rich guy. Or at least, that's what he tells himself he is.
As it is, he's making the rounds, glass in hand, doing some people watching as he circles the room. Nearly everyone here is a stranger to him, but still, he exudes confidence, giving no indication that he's wary and even on edge.
Just because everyone's chatting and smiling doesn't mean there can't be something insidious going on beneath the surface.
Sewer Run
When Oliver wakes up, the first thought that comes to him is that this is just yet another episode in the life of Oliver Queen. Being dropped into a sewer, handed a gun and flashlight, and told "good luck" fits in with nearly everything he's done prior to this point. He's tempted to ask when his life became so complicated but that is a very long and drawn out story that no one really wants to hear.
It's not like there's anyone immediately next to him anyway, and those that are don't appear to be in any mood to talk.
There's something to be done here, and whatever it is, Oliver would just as soon get it done quickly and then get some answers.
Bifrons
It's impossible to miss the way she laughs, bright and engaged with whoever she's talking to, and it seems that plenty of people notice her, even when she's only speaking to one person.
She takes a new glass from a waiter, stepping next to Oliver in a fluid movement. "I don't think I've seen you at one of these before."
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Sewer Run
He grabbed his guns and headed to the meeting place, looking around at the gathered faces - some nervous, some looking confident, most just looking grim. Extermination, they said. That's what this was. Extermination and rescue. It left a bad taste in his mouth, personally.
He found a space to stand near Oliver, nodding his head to him. "You must be a new Immune," he commented, since only Immune were allowed on this mission. It was to great a risk for a Native. He turned to hold out his hand to him. "Jim Kirk."
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Bucky Barnes | MCU
To his credit, he does not actually start tearing the place down after he's discovered what's going on. It's a strong instinct, one that is telling him to fight, to tear away from this place because like hell anyone else is getting their hands on him, but he keeps himself from wreaking havoc just yet.
Instead he leaves, changing clothes and collecting what he can and leaves. He has no idea where he's going but he knows the first thing he needs to do is get an idea of the layout. That is imperative if he's going to be able to do anything else.
Moving through the hall, he listens carefully for noise and tracks any shadows he sees under the cracks. He's not going to engage just yet, simply try and learn exactly what the terrain seems to be like, and then maybe he will do something.
He's trying to tell himself that he's going to be fine, that this is one more thing he will survive, but his brain is struggling against the idea, attempting to revolt and tell him he will always be used, always be turned into a weapon for someone.
[Network (Sewer Run)]
[He's been given a mission.
It's not thrilling but it's a purpose, it's something he can focus on and something he excels at doing. A part of him says that this is good, that having orders is what he needs but he knows it's playing into what they ant. He's still not sure if that is a good thing or not.
He's not going in half cocked and, since he knows there are others going in with him, he's not letting them do it either. Thus information gathering.] Who has been assigned here? What are our plans?
waking up
She hangs back, blending into her surroundings as much as she can and staying a corner turn behind where she can, but he's good and in her estimation, he has to know that he's being followed about a second after it started. All she can do is hope that he woke up similarly without weapons or that he's interested in talking.
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sorry about the slow speed. I'm on hiatus, but I was excited to see Bucky. :D
<3333 No worries at all.
Luci + The Wicked and The Divine
"G-O-D, this coffee sucks."
Luci grimaces into the cup as though she expects letters to appear in it, detailing exactly what fake abominations had been combined to create the thing resembling her double-shot. She sees no such horror, but it seems like the right thing to do. She sets the cup back down to begin mental preparation for her next sip-- if Proles really is as separated from the Pantheon, from... everything, she's going to have to get used to the coffee, the cigarettes, the strange narcotics, the ports...
She picks up the cup and looks into it again. "My kingdom for a Starbucks."
[Bifrons Gala]
Usually parties were great places to spend time. Plenty of booze, drugs if you knew the right people, bad decisions everywhere, lying to just about everybody because hey-- who'd remember the next day, honestly?
But damn, this one is boring. Luci can't even enjoy lying because most of the rich fucks are doing it too, and badly. It's like watching a 13-year-old internet troll take on Anonymous, only she's the one doing the doxxing after looking up a Facebook page set to Public.
She checks her watch as she stands on the outskirts of the party, a glass of whiskey in one hand. What were the odds of her hearing something interesting before they closed up the buffet and started throwing everybody out?
gala!
"Hello," Aradia greets, moving next to the lady. "I wouldn't look at your watch if I were you. Time does funny things when you're bored." She finishes her introduction with a toothy grin. Perfect. Now Aradia knows she's being helpful.
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Jack Holden | Zombies, Run!
[Well... for all that this place is technically better than the Zombie Apocalypse, Jack is not actually all that enthused to be here. Not considering he is now missing his actually rather pleasant life in Alderney, his housemates and his housemate's growing army of cats.
Oh yeah, and his husband.
It's been weeks since their ninth wedding and he still can't stop grinning dopily whenever he looks at the gold band on his fingers (helpfully salvaged from a jewellers by one of the New Canton runners.
So if he looks a bit sappy when he shows up on the comms, please forgive the lovesick fool.]
Good... morning? I think it's morning. The whole [He waves vaguely.] dome thing takes a bit of getting used to.
I am your charming host, Jack Holden, and I am actually here to make a bit of a request...
Eugene... 'Gene, if you're listening, if you're out there, let me know man.
[OOC: Or feel free to grab him out and about.]
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[Jack, meet . . . Jack. A Jack. A Jack with what looks like a cluttered, chrome spacefuture version of the radio shed behind him. Piles of equipment, wires, several screens and datapads - and a steaming mug of tea that he's now ignoring to squint closer at the screen.]
. . . okay, this is the weirdest prank anyone's pulled over the network in awhile.
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