TEST DRIVE MEME 003

[larkers]

> TEST DRIVE MEME #003

Welcome to the Meadowlark test drive meme! After waking up in strange and rather worrisome conditions, characters will need to begin to live their lives in this new world. All TDM threads take place after the arrival process, so please assume that the initial adjustment period has passed. Now it's time to see the bright sights and sounds that New Amsterdam – and beyond – has to offer. All Meadowlark test drive memes will not be game canon. Please feel free to carry on relationships that make sense, but if your character is off on a colony researching terraforming or in jail because they vandalized corporation signage with Morningstar's emblem, that will be a little harder to transfer into game. All applicants can use threads from the TDM for their samples.

> SETTLING IN

There is very little that can smooth over the experience of your arrival in this world. Coming to in a van, drugged and restrained, only to be carefully helped out by the unknown guards and nurses and then abandoned in an alleyway. What comes after is relatively straightforward: you're found by others and taken back to a safehouse, hidden under an abandoned supermarket. This has happened before. There are others not from this world who have experienced the same, with no recollection of how they came here, bearing signs that they've lost months of their lives, but unfortunately, no more answers on how or why than you do. There are theories, crossed realities, a very real sense of immense violation to one's self. Maybe this knowledge brings you a growing sense of futility, or perhaps it inspires a deeper determination in you. But even as you begin to think on what next, life has to go on. All of the new arrivals will be given a fake ID and a background that will lend them access to entry-level jobs. It may be overwhelming, but Morningstar won't be asking anyone to get their lives together immediately. It would take at least a month's wages to put down a deposit on even the smallest apartment in the city, so everyone has a grace period before they set out. Morningstar will also make their purpose clear if asked: they are a group dedicated to fighting corruption and righting the wrongs of this world, though they won't go into detail to someone who isn't a member. It will be made expressly clear that anyone who's received assistance from Morningstar has to keep that a secret, as it could compromise their life and safety, as well as the lives of others. > 001: EXPLORE THE CHANGES You have been changed, and unfortunately Morningstar know very little about how or why. They won't be able to give a crash course to answer everything, and in fact, may seem just as surprised (or scared) as you over some of the strange abilities you now have. They know this has happened, but it's just as strange for them as it is for you. Most of the troubling changes will be what's happened to each person's physiology. Every aspect of this situation is already enough to make someone feel scared, stressed, confused, or even angry at what's happened to them - having to navigate a new, crowded and noisy world could easily provide enough stimulation to make it worse . Unfortunately, strong emotion could be just the key to triggering your new power. To get things under wraps, you'll want to duck away to somewhere more private or hidden. Thankfully, there are numerous underpasses, dark corners, and currently-empty shops, but you'll need to be quick to avoid raising any eyebrows – or avoid hurting anyone. Otherwise, you might prefer to play it safe and avoid striking out before you have more answers. As much as Morningstar has been helpful, you know that the others in your situation may have more information. But be careful that you don't end up sharing more than you intended. Every instance of skin-to-skin contact will trigger an immediate empathic bond, letting you feel the other person's emotions and vise versa. While there's nothing that can be done to completely prevent this, someone can either decide to hold on and continue sharing that level of emotional intimacy, or let go and end the shockingly vulnerable exchange. > 002: THE NETWORK One thing Morningstar do know about is the neural implant. This piece of tech is a basic necessity of life in this world, and you now have one in your head. Thankfully Morningstar are able to provide any necessary information to help you understand this new tool and its application to daily life. Early on, every newcomer receives access to an encrypted network, only available to you and the others like you, making contact between you easy and safe. Familiarize yourself with this network and dig in. Perhaps you're hoping to find some bigger answers, ask about the latest weather or nail polish trends in New Amsterdam, or want to discuss how much Morningstar suck in a venue where they'll absolutely see it. Don't worry, you won't be booted. They're used to it. There are private, one-on-one modes of communication available as well, though without the security of Morningstar's encryptions, they're much less safe. You can make calls, send texts, make videos, and even interact with others in a VR simulation – however, there it's made very clear that the government has a means of tracking these. This definitely isn't a place to be careless about your communication.

> RESOLUTION DAY FESTIVAL

One day a year, everyone the whole system over participates in the annual celebration of Resolution Day. It's not explicitly stated what Resolution Day actually is; there's no reason to declare what everyone already knows, and characters may find themselves experiencing some intense culture shock as they stumble into the festivities. The celebration starts early and finishes late – very late – so whether you choose to join in the fun, learn more about the history of the festival, or take advantage of the revelry for other, more nefarious goals, you'll have plenty of time. As the festival sprawls wildly throughout the streets of New Amsterdam, it gives even the most desolate parts of the city new life with bright lights, noise, and plenty of food. Recent circumstances have left New Amsterdam in a constant state of rebuilding, but the festival adds gloss to a lot of the damage – though most of the festival strays away from the most ruined architecture so that it doesn't serve as a constant reminder. Most businesses are shut for the day, giving their workers the time to enjoy the celebration, but some might consider this one of their most profitable days of the year – if you've gotten yourself a restaurant, rickshawing or corporate PR job, you might find yourself stuck on a double shift. Better snatch what small moments of enjoyment you can! > 003: ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES Anything you'd think it would be at a festival in the year 2511 is definitely at this festival. Care to play a game? All attendees can play for free. Some games – like the hoverblade racing, the augmented reality fightboxes and the street-wide bouts of laser tag – involve a partner or a competitor, so you better hope someone's willing to do you a solid or bring out your competitive side. If having fun involves less competition and more opportunities to feel emboldened, there are karaoke setups all over the city. Most of the songs will be unfamiliar to anyone who's new to this world, but like any music in any era, they're catchy enough. There are some jingles that have managed to survive several hundred years, and you might stumble across a gaggle of teenagers declaring that "All You Need is Love." To encourage letting loose, most of these karaoke booths have bartenders available to help someone find the courage they need to reach the stage. Or maybe it's time to try the delicacies of New Amsterdam. Hundreds of food trucks have turned out today in droves with high hopes that they'll come away turning a profit. Down for some Mexi-German fusion? Or perhaps you're hoping that pad Thai still tastes the same with grasshoppers? Share your food – or give away whatever you don't like. Food trucks are the hub of activity, and the busiest ones might be worth the time, but you'll be standing in line for a while. > 004: HISTORY LESSONS Aside from your typical booths of free samples, charitable causes, volunteer applications, and white chocolate-covered beetles, you'll find an opportunity to learn about Resolution Day’s history. There are various stands available where – thanks to the augmented reality application of your neural implant – you can view video about the origins of the festival and what, exactly, everyone's celebrating. These videos will play for you and you alone, and you'll soon learn that this is the day, 410 years ago, that humans successfully ended the AI war. If you'd like to feel like a hero, the UNA are running several virtual reality simulations where you can be taken to the battlefield to fight alongside fellow soldiers, working to bring the outwardly robotic AI to submission. The virtual reality simulation interacts with your neural implant to give you the most realistic experience possible. If you don't ground yourself enough, you'll be certain that the sights, sounds, and smells around you are real as you march in formation toward the brutality waiting up ahead. Feel free to team up with a partner on a side mission, or maybe try to keep someone from plugging in for what could be a traumatic experience. Eerie, heart-wrenching music plays when you die, but is promptly followed by the image of several corporate logos reminding you that they sponsored this day and this event. If you're uncomfortable with this information, no one will understand why. AI sympathizers are not present among the native population. Will you risk trying to change their minds? > 005: USING DISTRACTIONS There are other opportunities in the city being flooded with festival-goers. For Morningstar, this is a prime opportunity to test new recruits when it comes to charming corporate execs and getting in good with them. Whatever your cover story is, make it good. Whether you claim you're hoping to pitch an idea for some new tech or are more interested in seducing – or squeezing – some information out of them, following them into the next bar or karaoke booth may give you the perfect chance. But you might want a lookout to watch your back, a co-conspirator to keep them plied with drinks, or maybe you'll need a voice of reason to stop you from squeezing too hard. Morningstar values discretion – and so does everyone else, for that matter.

> CRIMINAL ACTIVITY

Traveling down from the hectic main city streets reveals a different side from the gloss and promise of New Amsterdam. Economic disparity runs rampant throughout the city, and many people are pushed to desperation, looking to find other ways to make ends meet. In the darker shadows, many illegal activities thrive, out of view of the authorities - or perhaps known and supported by corrupt individuals. Maybe you're here exploring, completing a task for Morningstar, or working a job in the place you excel. Whatever's brought you here, you may want to watch your step, or else find the city eating you as it has so many others. > 006: GETTING IN Organized crime still has a strong foothold in the world, with gangs and more established families working drugs, weapons, property and black market cybernetics, to name a few. These organizations are sprawling units that regularly recruit new members into their ranks, so long as they can prove themselves by passing the intensive hazing. Maybe you'd like to have a role in such a powerful organization. Or maybe you'd like to use your relative anonymity to burn it all down. One way to get an in is through their numerous clubs and illegal gambling dens, where to get past the door you have to know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy. Don't know a guy? Feel free to try to use brute force or some chicanery to make them believe that you belong among their numbers. Just don't get caught doing anything they don't like – which could be breathing the wrong way, if you're unlucky enough. Best to have an escape plan in place, like perhaps stealing one of the many hovercars or hoverbikes parked outside the establishment. If you've got the skills, you'll be able to weave through the chaos of the city and make a clean getaway – just don't let the chase run for too long, or you'll have law enforcement on your ass as well. > 007: FIGHT CLUB No matter the occasion outside, New Amsterdam's fight club events are held every evening. The bouncers at the door don't have too many scruples on who they let inside. All they care about is whether someone has the money to pay the cover charge. The interior of the fight club reveals the sophistication of a business that's used to uprooting itself regularly. All the fights take place in a large cage in the center, and you remain on your feet while you enjoy the show. There is a special VIP section if you've been lucky enough to receive an invite or bribe your way in – just keep in mind that these invites are scarce, and you will have to have done something spectacular to earn the attention from someone high up the food chain. Regardless of where you end up, there is one rule: what happens in the fight club stays in the fight club. This tenant is law, and everyone's heard stories of the different (and sometimes extreme) lengths which have been taken to maintain it. Maybe you're here to sign up and test your chops against other fighters. Many of the fighters boast illegal cybernetic enhancements, so it would be a really good idea to have someone on hand who knows some first aid. Maybe you'd prefer to just enjoy the show, or take the opportunity to grill the bartenders for information. Just be careful not to make a fool of yourself. Asking too many questions might catch the wrong kind of attention – the kind that might find you being thrown into the ring, whether you wanted to be there or not. For all the blood spilled, these fight clubs thrive on discretion, so whatever you do, try to keep it quiet.

> THE STATUS QUO

By the next morning, the true shape of New Amsterdam will come to light for everyone who steps out and sees that it has been devastated recently. There are numerous construction sites throughout the city, with some being more expedient than others, all to try to rebuild a city that's been under duress. There are numerous mandates that filter through news feeds, telling citizens that they should turn in any monster carcasses from the June 27th attacks. With no further context, it might be up to you to look into what this even means: doing just that will lead to numerous articles about a mysterious creature attack that assaulted the city and led to countless people being made homeless. No one knows the cause for the attack, as investigations are ongoing. The effects of this attack are more apparent today than they were the day before. While the festivities demanded that the streets were bare, numerous tent cities have gone back up to take the place of the booths. The people living here look like they've been here for a while, and Resolution Day festivities mildly inconvenienced them. The supplies going to them are only just enough for them to be comfortable, with most of their facilities being maintained and highly restricted to keep up water rationing demands. Soon enough it will be apparent that this is what New Amsterdam is like, with the same amount of targeted advertisements built in to the city's foundation to show the influence of the local corporations. > 008: WHERE THERE'S SMOKE Around midday, vents open up throughout New Amsterdam to let smoke rapidly filter up into the foreground of the city. The reason why? A fire sparks in the underground portion of New Amsterdam, spreading quickly between two apartment buildings. The cause is unknown, and while firefighters are on the scene, they could use an extra hand. Numerous people suffer from the effects of smoke inhalation, and there are likely more inside the buildings themselves waiting for an assist. For anyone who's been here already, this may feel like a familiar sequence of events, but going into the fire puts anyone at risk for being infected by the smoke itself. The infection is far from contagious and doesn't spread from one person to another - but it's highly unpleasant, leaving someone feeling mild nausea and headaches, irritability, vertigo, feverish … and vengeful. As the sickness takes hold and worsens, anyone impacted by this infection will feel the need to take revenge on people around them. This retaliation can take any number of forms from violent to non-violent: pick countless fights, or manipulate your friends into fighting one another for your own satisfaction, just to prove that they will turn on one another. Thankfully, there is a cure for this righteous anger – unless you're inclined to feel this normally, of course. Any of the player characters who didn't stage a rescue in the burning building will be able to cure others by making skin-to-skin contact and holding on to it for a prolonged period of time. This contact will lead to their chest glowing blue for the entire duration, an increasingly burning sensation for both parties involved which eventually culminates in a sense of peace before giving way to a deep, pervading sense of sadness. Throughout New Amsterdam, there will be countless people impacted by this infection thanks to their close proximity to the fire itself. It's up to you to help them – or leave them hanging, if that's what you prefer. But the only existing cure appears to be anyone with the strange blue stuff in their chests. The news reports that follow reiterate that everyone in the city should turn in any remaining monster carcasses that they have because of the risks inherent in keeping them close. While they don't make a strict connection between the fire and the second string of chaotic attacks, Governor Gill-Jade appears on screen to implore everyone to be cautious and vigilant. There will also be increased fire inspections throughout the city to try to prevent more of these outbreaks, and she promises that all of her resources will be dedicated toward preventing further infection.

> THE WILDCARDS

> 009: SPACE Whether you're desperate for a reprieve from Earth after getting a taste of some unwanted righteous fury or curious about this century's space exploration, there are a number of opportunities available to let someone blast off. Most people will find that the process of getting into space is tedious, but also one that occurs regularly from day to day. The opportunities are there for anyone seeking a job out in the colonies, but first you'll have to get hired, or have approval for subsidy granted by the government. Journeys to the colonies are long and arduous, and what people find when they show up isn't any better. Most of the facilities are in poor condition, with food and water far more strictly rationed than back on Earth. If you'd rather just take a trip out to space without having to worry about a job, you have a number of options. Anyone can book a trip to go off planet, if they have the capital, or perhaps you'd prefer to work towards some proper credentials and join a crew. Of course, someone wishing to skip to the front of the line can always just stowaway on the back of a ship – or steal one for themselves. Just be wary of the fact that the hangars these ships are in come with increased security to match their price tags. They're hard to steal, but not impossible. As long as you know to skip the hacking and go with brute force, it should work out fine. > 010: GO NUTS This isn't all there is to explore, so feel free to branch out! Visit a doctor about some advanced cybernetics. Sneak through the city checkpoints and set out into the wilderness. Experiment with some insect based versions of your favorite recipes. Perhaps you'd prefer to engage in some illegal street racing, spend some time getting used to the technology, or make a bold declaration to become a llama farmer. Use the SETTING for inspiration and choose your own adventure.

> NAVIGATION

Comments

the doctor ( doctor who )

[custardcreams]

( history lessons )

( her attention was rapt on the presentation. it was a version of earth's history that was wrong, something had obviously gone wrong to make everything change like this which was why she was listening. maybe something in the presentation will tell her what happened and how it happened.

though it seems that she can't just listen to it without making some kind of commentary. in part it's trying to understand it, partly a frustration that she can't just fastforward or rewind through parts of it and also in the glaring thought that all of this is just wrong )

AI wars? Sounds like something I would-- hang on, four hundred years ago?

( she frowns, leaning closer to the screen )

Can't be. I mean it could be but--

( one day she'll finish a sentence )

But if that ended then... nah, I would have seen it.

( and she's thinking again, working along through the timeline that she knows, trying to decide how long it would have needed to start, how long the war could have gone on for before it was stopped. if only she had her tardis to do a little bit of research. and fixing )

( network | username: john.smith )

Hello! Have to say this is pretty intuitive, much quicker than having to type it all out but oh, what happens if you get distracted mid thought? Do all of those thoughts get shared? Could be very risky.

Right, sorry, not what I was actually planning to say. Actually I don't know that I was planning anything, just sort of saying hello. Kind of just woke up without any of my stuff or my fam. Gang? Still working on that.

Anyway, Graham, Yaz, Ryan, if you are reading this then I'm here and I'm working on it. I got you home before and I'll do it again. And if they're not here then I'd like a word with whoever did do this. Which I know no one seems to know but that's impossible. No one can just not know. The information is out there somewhere and I'm very good at figuring things out.

Oh, and if anyone happens to find a blue police box, let me know would you?

history lessons

[kgbs]

Are you going to talk throughout this whole thing?

[ the constant muttering is almost as bad as solo, unable to just sit in peace and quiet, always having to fill the silence with words, pointless and trite. ]

Perhaps, you would like to run the presentation?

[ though illya wasn't all that new anymore, he's still trying to learn all he can about this world and it's technology. he doesn't want to sit and listen to someone talk and talk and talk but it's seems quicker than doing his own research. ]

DICK GRAYSON | TITANS

[grimaces]

I. SPACE TWITTER

un: dick.anders
I don't know if you keep a database of who's arrived, and where from- but I'm looking for people.
Two of them. A teenage boy and girl.

[And of course- the most identifiable parts of them, the deep purple and bright green hair, would have been shorn down to their natural locks. Fantastic. At least he knows where Kory is- they haven't strayed too far from one another, and there's a small pause- we'll keep trying this polite thing, for now]

She'll answer to Rachel, and he's Gar.
I'd appreciate being notified if you find them.

II. WHERE IS MY MIND?

[Now that he's put out feelers for his missing companions, he's direction his attentions to- acquiring a lay of the land, and then money. It's the one thing that makes everything move, that determines if the right kind of information is going to spill into your ear, if you're going to be invited to the right places at the right times, that helps you continue to figure things out, one little step at a time.

It's readily apparent the moment they're free from the truck, even without the explanations other captives have deemed as helpful, that he's not exactly in Kansas anymore. There's a technology gap he seems to have slept through, or at least- that he's never seen anyone on Earth have access too. One that sits nestled at the bottom of his skull, and the other trapped somewhere in the centre of his chest. That changes how currency is exchanged, how people travel, how they access business and homes. It's enough to know that he's not going to get anywhere fast on foot, on on trying to hack into surveillance cameras.

So he picks the only option that still makes sense to him. The Underground. The places where the lips are loosest for the right amount of cash, for the right amount of 'persuasion'. Where blending in is the easiest, where the darkness is where'd gotten most used to moving in. It also solves his second problem- acquiring easy money.

And it is, easy. He's small and fast compared to most of his opponents, it takes nothing to twist himself out of range, to use the momentum of their swings to flip up and over them. He's taken a few fair hits- earned himself a split lip deep enough that it's likely to scar this time, a bruise blooming high on his collarbone, that had him wheezing- the closest he's actually come to losing, but a lot of the blood splattering his hands and his face isn't his. Some, is from broken bones and some- it becomes immediately apparent, when he wins his next fight by digging his fingers under one man's very obvious, very metal enhancement, sinking into the meat of his forearm, and uses his moment and his considerable, well trained strength to tear it right out. While his opponent is busy howling, it clocks him right across the temple with it, hard as he can.

It's therapeutic, in a way. He sees in them, the same guards that had taken him out of the truck, punch drunk and stumbling. The guards that had strapped him down to a chair and drugged him into seeing the darkest parts of his mind. That had cut into Kory, into Gar- as if they weren't even human. He'd promised to keep them safe, alive, to get them out of this. Promised, he had a handled on it. Instead- he'd only ended up with the same shit, different place. If he can be sure of even that, anymore.

After a moment hovering over the other man, he backs off. Turns back to the edge of the ring like he has every other fight, and reached down to touch hands with a gorgeous woman. To check in, on what she's heard while he's been winning, and to ensure she'd gotten the transfer of credits from the others successfully.

He might be softer with her, but there's definitely something around his eyes that suggests he's the last person you'd want to approach. But if you're here, isn't that exactly the kind of person you want to talk to?]

III. I LOVE YOU 'CUZ YOUR DEUCES ARE WILD-

[ predictably your wild card option!]


( as well, please note i'm the comics dick in game already, so this is literally just for funsies! )

space twitter (@hank.hall)

[sacrification]

the fuck
you lost rachel?

[ look, between that name and those questions, it's pretty obvious who this is. ]

charlie smith | class

[omnicides]

0 0 1 → empathy

[ at first glance, there is nothing remarkable about charlie. there's the shorn head, of course, but then all newcomers sport that particular haircut. he moves around the safehouse quietly, asking questions in a polite tone and manner, trying not to get into anyone's way. he smiles at people.

touch him, though, and the impression becomes a different one. whether it's the slight brush of skin against skin as you reach for the same thing on the table, whether it's accidental in a crowd or the shake of a hand because charlie's put his out when he's introduced himself - instead of anything quiet, there's an overwhelming surge of sadness and guilt, of loss. of complete and utter hopelessness. underneath it, there's still steel —and responsibility.

it'll last only for a moment before charlie realises what's happening and snags his hand back or ends the touch in some other way. ]

I'm sorry. [ he tries for another smile, but it'll now look frayed around the edges. ]

0 0 2 → resolution day festival

[ there's a festival and charlie visits. this is his second time on —well, not a new planet, exactly, because this is still earth, but in a new environment, in a new culture. at least this time, he already knows not to walk into traffic, that it won't stop for him as it did on rhodia.

he's wide-eyed at the festival, glancing at every stand, taking it all in.

there are so many options, so many choices. more than once, charlie turns to someone, be it a stranger or someone he's seen before, and asks: ] What would you recommend?

0 0 3 → network (@charles.smith)

How do I use Google on this?

001

[paternel]

[ It's an accident, reaching for the same bag of processed granola on the table. The bond's probably instant. It feels like there's a dramatic pause first, anyway, that moment of realization where it's too late to take it back, then the influx of emotions — and this time, there's a lot of them.

And as heavy and overpowering as Charlie's grief and guilt is, it's very nearly matched by the sheer pit of nothing radiating from Seg. Not calm. Not control. Just a hole, sinking and unhappy and unsure, pulling like quicksand and strangely muffled by the weak shadow of denial and disassociation he's wearing over it. He's slower to snatch his hand back, and he looks briefly confused before looking up at Charlie's fake smile. ]

Don't be, mate. [ A little disoriented, still, like his mind's a few seconds behind. What do you say to that? ] Buy you a drink?

[ Is it a pity drink? Absolutely, and his voice doesn't hide it. ]

kaldur'ahm | young justice

[shorelined]

001. EMPATHY

[ it happens soon after his arrival, before he learns not to reach out, before he understands the full extent of what has been done to him, to them all. it happens in conversation or when someone walking past drops something, it happens in a corridor or on the street when he simply walks past someone, brushing against them.

no matter how it happens, skin touches skin and the empathic bond kicks in. in some ways, it feels natural to kaldur - he is used to a bond with the team via miss martian's powers. but m'gann isn't here. the emotion comes across as a sense of loss, a sense of guilt, a near overwhelming sense of responsibility, the sense of a burden on his shoulders. there's determination, too, somewhere beneath it all. ]

002. NOT QUITE THE SEA

[ kaldur has found a park that features a small lake and that is where he can be found now, a scarf wrapped around his neck to hide the gills and his webbed hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket despite the fact that there is no one here to see him.

he needed to be near water. this lake is a poor excuse for the sea, but it is water and it calms the storm raging inside him somewhat - although none of his inner turmoil shows on his face. still, if someone were to sit next to him, if their skin were to brush his at any point, they would feel his overwhelming sense of responsibility, the burden he carries. his fear of failure and his need to do good.

even without skin on skin contact and the empathic bond kicking in, it is clear that kaldur is lost in thought, something melancholy in his expression. ]

003. NETWORK (@kaldur'ahm.shayeris)

I have come to understand that I am not among the first to wake like this. Is there anything those of you who have come before me have learned that you could share?

I also thought it wise to introduce myself. My name is Kaldur'ahm. I am still finding my footing, but if I can help in any way, please contact me.

001

[shove]

( it's not unusual for kaldur, but it is for jason. he's walking passed kaldur, moving with purpose to get beyond him when a bare arm brushes against the other's and there's a spark of--something. blue glowing in his chest, an unfamiliar addition to his usual emotions sparking behind eyes and for jason it's--

fear. confusion. a sense of loss but determination. he pauses in his step, moves a hand to shove against kaldur even if it was entirely his fault to begin with, speaks loud but not quite yelling. yet. )

Watch your step, asshole.

mako mori | pacific rim

[setpoint]

i. network
@mako.mori

I'd like to know as much as possible about our neural implants and whatever has been implanted in our chests, beyond what Morningstar tells us. Any details you can give me would be appreciated.

Has anyone seen one of the implants outside of a human body? Is there a way I can get access to one?

the safehouse

[This is, quite possibly, Mako's idea of hell. It's cramped and crowded and close, and impossible to get a second by herself. She can't find anyone she knows, but the fact that she can't find Raleigh when, from her perspective, they were just drifting together, feels like a particularly large hole in her heart.

Mako does her best to stay mostly to herself, not offering too much information or really approaching anyone. She's overwhelmed, and every so often she brushes her fingers against the implant scar at the back of her neck, longing to figure out how it works. Her self-imposed isolation ends when she bumps into someone, her bare arm against there's.

The connection is instant and not entirely unfamiliar. It's a bit like drifting, but so much more sudden and invasive. She's learned that finding a drift partner isn't just about compatibility, but about trust and choice, and this is the opposite of that. Whoever she runs into will get a sudden rush of frustration and anger and impatience, and locked down underneath all of that, fear and loneliness. Mako gasps, yanking her arm back roughly.]

I'm sorry.

wildcard!

[Hit me with whatever you've got, or hit me up at cephalopods!]

network. @chuck.hansen

[harangue]

Surprised you're not more worried about the kaiju they had show up a while ago.

seg-el | krypton

[paternel]

a. history lessons

[ It's all nonsense. Not that it's automatically unimportant; it just means approximately nothing to him, personally, and while it all seems very dramatic and a few parts inevitably tug at his sympathy, it's still only so much fiction.

Seg-El watches the historical video for a few minutes, standing near one of the booths with his arms crossed. When he realizes someone's standing nearby, maybe up to the same thing (difficult to tell with the implants), he gives them a sidelong glance and an amused, ]

Get a load of all this.

[ It occurs to him, belatedly, that maybe they're a local. Maybe the history of their AI wars is not, in fact, suitable for dismissive commentary. A beat later, sounding suspiciously (artificially) sincere: ]

Because it's... very interesting.

b. fight club

[ Seg's been fighting for a solid thirty minutes, and when he finally gets out of the ring it's as a loser. A very stubborn loser, but a loser, and one that's been safely pummeled within an inch of his consciousness. It doesn't seem to have affected his mood. When he carves a path to the bar and leans against it, roughly — he'll likely fall down otherwise — the bartender gives him a knowing, amused look before sliding a shot across the counter.

Seg downs it without comment, then realizes he's got a neighbor. ] And one for my friend, as well.

[ Are you his friend?? No. But he's seen you around the safehouse, and he gets to drink free when he throws fights, so live it up. The bartender's look is less amused this time, but they humor one more. Two shots appear and Seg lifts his, not bothering to wait for the cheers before tipping it back. ]

c. network

@seg.el

Do any of you know how to get to Detroit?

b is for beatdown!!!!!

[killboss]

[ the drink, slid along the length of the bar, is stopped by the flat of his palm before it gets too far. down to the person that seg-el has actually denoted as his "friend". this man, with his broad shoulders and the rapid-fire imagery that flickers across the screen of his helmet, is not the friendly one. he's the unsatisfied one, the one who had just had the front-row seat to the sight of a decent fighter throwing his round.

( he can almost hear HER voice, in the back of his head: hey puppy. what do you do with the strongest guy in the room? like it's a riddle he's got to solve, only he doesn't have the capacity to comprehend layers and nuances. just the most straightforward way of handling something -- ) he rounds his shoulders and crushes the shot glass against his palm, the flex of arm below jacket betraying the synthetic nature of the limb: ] FIGHT NEXT: Y/N?

[ the text flickers across his helmet, as brisk and pointed as the way he beckons between the two of them. ]

caroline forbes, the vampire diaries.

[gasping]

001a — new powers

[ it happens without warning. that's how it goes, isn't it? caroline's busy at work, a damp rag in her hand moving side-to-side against the countertops as she carefully rubs away the splotches of faux-coffee spilled from the daily rush, when the power goes out, suddenly drowning the small shop in pitch black darkness.

it shouldn't be such a surprise. after the fire, after the monster attack, and after all that's come after it, the citizens of new amsterdam seem to be more and more used to strange happenings. but a power outage on its own is so mundane, so boring, it seems to strike a chord of panic into all the customers ... all at once. they begin to scatter, frightened, the din of their chattering fear growing louder and louder in the dark until —

well. that's certainly one way to shine a light on things.

from her palms, warm yellow light spills out, enveloping the nearest person in artificial sunshine. guess she won't be needing that flashlight after all. ]

001b — empathy bonds

[ caroline isn't opposed to touch. she's a friendly enough girl. whether it's a gentle touch of a hand on an arm, a hug in the park as paths cross, or the accidental touch of skin-to-skin in the hallways or while hands hover over items in a shop, the empathy bond remains the same.

warmth comes from the blonde, above all else. positivity, determination — their situation may be precarious, but she's deadset on making the best of this.

after all, she was dead once, and then undead, and now? she's alive again, somehow, and that's nothing to scoff at. ]

002 — network
@caroline.forbes

I think we need a welcoming committee. The whole safehouse thing is just really not doing it for me!

001a.

[paternel]

Shit— [ The nearest person nearly goes blind, then he grabs her hands and directs them away — down, which unsurprisingly doesn't mute the glow. Without thinking, he draws her hands under his jacket on either side of his waist. That's better for hiding the conspicuous light radiating from her palms. Not so much the blue light on her chest. Also a bit forward, but she's the one throwing her superpowers in people's literal faces. Subtlety will have to wait.

It's difficult to read his expression in the abruptly dimmer light, but the empathy bond cuts through any guesswork: mild panic, more experienced calm, a thread of concern. He keeps his voice low, banking on the low-key chaos for cover. ] You need to calm down.

padmé amidala | star wars

[officio]

history lessons.

[ for her, there is no earth, and so she sees nothing wrong with the version of events that is being described — no, her attention in the presentation is based on something more than simply a desire to learn about the place she's been transported to.

droids, she thinks faintly, they could have been droids. or clones.

when asked (perhaps by you, perhaps by someone else) whether she wants to enter the virtual reality, to witness the great triumph, she shakes her head with a polite smile that doesn't quite light up her eyes. ]

No, thank you. I think I've had enough of war. [ she knows what it looks like... and always it looks the same. ]

empathy.

[ after she realizes what happens every time she touches someone, she shies away from it entirely, purposefully holds herself back from being too close to anyone else, whether on the street or in the safehouse.

but during those first days, before she's quite adjusted to it all, she isn't quite so careful, and so whether it is arms brushing accidentally when leaving the safehouse, or perhaps she's reaching out to steady herself after a too-eager hoverblade racer decides to practice on the street and disturbs the crowd... what comes after is —

(determination, steel, responsibility, duty —)

but above all else, there's a sense of loss, all-encompassing and final. ]

network. @amidala

Among those of us who have woken here, who of you come from a galaxy? Who were used to traveling between different planets? I never thought to question it, or how commonplace even just the possibility was, but it seems not to have been the norm for everyone.

wildcard.

[ your standard wildcard prompt, fire away! ]

@margo.hanson

[destructionist]

Depends on how you're traveling. Care to be more specific?

margo (the magicians)

[destructionist]

a. touchy feely nonsense

[Yes, this is fucking scary as hell. Yes, she hates it. There's a lot of messed up stuff that's gone down in her life. A lot. And now she's here in shiny Blade Runner world and she'd rather not. But she sure as hell isn't gonna let it get her down. Find a way out. A key. A doorway. Something. The whole concept of "ending up in a new world" is old for her. What's annoying above all else is that she's in a new world without her hair.

Yes.

Her hair.

It's exhausting.

She's walking out of the communal bathroom, slowly tucking a few hairs behind her ears. It's not great, but she's cut it further, styled it. It'll ... have to do.

But she's distracted, and soon enough, she's reaching out to push someone away—

—only to get a gross insight into their feelings. Which means they've gotten hers, too.

(Scared. Uncomfortable. Irritated.)]

Ugh ... gross. Get away from me. Right now.

[Look. Margo doesn't try to be pleasant. She just tries to be ... who she is, and who she is is someone who's really grossed out by the whole feelings contamination bullshit.]

b. the fight club

[Ah, this is more her speed. Not the fighting. No, that's really not her style. She'll pass on the testosterone-filled need to just throw one's self in front of someone else's fist. It's not fun to do it. No, what's her style is ... watching. Okay, gross voyeur stuff aside, these men and women strip down to the bare essentials and look buff as hell while they do it. Hot. Sweaty. Honestly, Brad Pitt in Fight Club barely matches up to what's going on.]

Hmmm, we really ought to be rating them.

[Where is she sitting? The bar. What is she not doing? Investigating.]

What're you having? I could use some company.

[Margo offers a quick smile, and waves a hand to call the bartender over to take whoever's beside her's order.]

c. network business

@margo.hanson

Would you believe that they wouldn't let me go by king.margo? As if someone wouldn't name their kid king by 2511. Queen B was already knocking those names out by 2017. Not to mention MJ long before.

Regardless of their limited view of ... a lot of things, I have a question and a request.

First—where are the best places to get fucked up around here? I know a whole lot of you are happy to play Sherlock Holmes here, but I'm not. I'd like to have a solid two weeks of not giving a fuck before I have to come back down. And since you're all do-gooders, don't pretend that I actually want to hear about how drugs aren't good for me. Again, it's 2511. I'm sure they've got something cooked up that barely messes with what's all up in here.

And second—I know people are really into lasik here, but I've got a unique problem with my eye. I'm not gonna get some creepy robo eye, so please tell me people still wear contacts. Even just to look cool temporarily. Which, by the way, no one ever looks good with those weird ass cosplay contacts, but whatever. You do you.

d. wildcard

[Margo is ... a lot ... so I'm down for whatever. She's used to "whatever."]

b.

[dependently]

Something with a name I can't pronounce.

[ Admittedly, not unfamiliar territory for the pair of them. It is the first time he's drank something this particular shade of mauve, but the taste isn't unpleasant. He downs it in one, thunks the empty cup down as he smacks his lips at the aftertaste. ]

Another? [ Directed at the bartender, assuming there's no real confusion to be had with multiple drinks that color. ] And make it a double.

[ Because how else does anyone cope with being shuffled into some alternate fucking timeline and leaving on a cliffhanger? Eliot swivels on his stool, one elbow on the sticky bar, as his head tips towards Margo. ]

Enjoying the view?

[ It's...well, it's admirable. And Eliot is grasping for any return to normalcy in the midst of all this weirdness. ]

edmond dantes | fate/grand order

[ressusciter]

001. contact.

[he keeps his head down, his breathing even, as he essentially stalks the streets. heavier, everything is heavier, and he doesn't understand it beyond applying principles of magic to everything, and then running that through a few filters of acceptance. his circumstances have changed before. they can do so again in a moment.

he looks stark, white hair against a younger face and dark clothes, but there's nothing he can do about it for the moment. instead, it's his hands that cause the most trouble - brushing in the crowded streets of the festival, bumping into someone -

and what pulses through is a combination of deep unease, and an anger that boils hot, molten but contained within the boundaries of the self. he looks to the other, for that flash of a second, eyes gold, narrowing on them. as though it was their fault.

if you don't stop, you'll find yourself with a new shadow.]

002. communication.

@louis.busoni
The mission statement offered by Morningstar is an attractive one, I confess. It takes a strong heart to look at the wrongs of this world and decide to step forth to correct them. Very noble. But the path of true and effective vengeance is often one that exchanges words with becoming a beast yourself.

How much do you trust them? How would you have them prove these words? I have my own ideas, but I'd like not to be nothing but ego filling an empty space.

010. costume.

[in the corners of one of the underground clubs, he sits, in deep discussion with the man in command for this joint. the two of them can't be heard from a distance, but from the way he tilts back his head, they're both laughing at something hilarious, and pause to take a drag off a cigarette.

between them is a shining, strange piece of technology, curved and almost delicate seeming. Dantes is the one to put down his cigarette first, picking it up and attaching it to his arm, where it lights up. at the touch of a button, his features flicker, and suddenly the criminal across from him is twinned in replica. a perfect holographic disguise. with a smile, it's deactivated, hidden under long sleeves, and Dantes gives the man a handshake before standing and walking away with it. might be another strange moment in the life of a club-

but he appears, soon after, at your side, and whispering in your ear.]

Forgive the intrusion.

[he remembers the faces of those who stare.]

wildcard.

[for any and all other options.]

001

[memoriams]

[He stops as if bolted to the ground, the smallest brush of skin-on-skin halting Alucard’s even strides along flickering displays of history long passed, of a war with too many lives lost at the hands of what appear to be rebellious machines. That in itself is worthy of intense curiosity — his personality inlaid with the want to know, a trait that his blood dictates he share — but his quiet considerations, his cat-footed prowl through steady streams of people, is upended so gracelessly by this one man.

Unease and anger that churns, and being shared as it is, it’s an unwanted thing. Across the link blossoms his own set of emotions, and they come unbidden — faint curiosity tousled with confusion, a withdrawn manner that keeps himself pinned in at all sides by way of his own choosing, and a grief that winds its way through his core. Sleeping, but prevalent.

His hand is the first to retract, severing the link. He’s being looked at like he’s the villain in this, and Alucard returns the favor with an even, almost equal stare.]

I take it you’re not having much fun, then.

[Dry.]

d'avin jaqobis | killjoys

[classis]

a. network

un: @d'avin.jaqobis

Wish I could say this is the first time I've found out that I've been the subject of experimentation by people who've been less than forthcoming about the truth.

Gotta say though, that this is really kind of a downgrade in a few ways. Silver lining: the side effects haven't been as bad, I guess?
Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'm hoping that the word 'killjoy' means something to you out there.

b. fight club

[this is a familiar scene. eager spectators and equally eager competitors. without his fallback career to lean on, d'avin has taken it upon himself to use the fight club as his way to learn the lay of the land.

he signs up to fight, between his time in the military and his years spent serving warrants with team awesome force, he's more than capable. hell, it's not even his first rodeo as far as fight clubs are concerned, but unfortunately a solid knee to the face knocks him out of the competition. which leaves him little choice but to drown his sorrows at the bar, nose stuffed to staunch the bleeding. he knows he'll need to have it looked at if the crunching sensation he feels each time he moves it is a good indicator.

d'av orders another of the local favorite hard liquor and is set to grab it as it's set down when an unexpected hand beats him to the punch.]

I may have lost in the ring, but I'm more than capable of kicking your ass. If you want a drink, you can order your own.

[friend or foe, he's had a rough day and he's not particularly in the mood for this. tread carefully.]

c. wildcard

[you know the deal. your obligatory whatever floats your boat option. ]

b!

[marineris]

[Bobbie wasn't trying to steal his drink, it was just an honest mistake. Her eyebrows go straight up at the sharp rebuke, though, and she doesn't look terribly impressed.]

I doubt it, especially if that nose of yours has anything to say about your skills.

[No one has ever or will ever call a Martian Marine modest. She scoots the drink towards him.]

I thought it was mine. Take it easy.

arya gastaurknan (aka x'rhun's third child) | final fantasy xiv

[gastaurknan]

oo1. → empathy

[ Arya was currently a girl on a mission.

after recovering from her sedation enough to comprehend her surroundings and get a basic rundown of why she was here in the first place, Arya ultimately decided that standing around wallowing would get her nowhere. no, if she wanted to make it through this place long enough to find a way home, she had to do so in numbers-- and so the first order of business: find anyone that seemed familiar. it seemed easy in practice, but even the strongest masks cracked ere long, and it didn't take much time searching before doubt began to cloud Arya's mind.

and this was how people would find her-- or rather, run into her. depending on how far she was into her search, the other party would either feel (oo1-a.) a fair amount of determination and focus with a sprinkling of trepidation or (oo1-b.) anxiety, loneliness, concern, and maybe a hint of despair. either way, Arya would let out a sharp gasp and wheel around, staring at the unfortunate person she bumped into with wide eyes -- seems she felt the other party's emotions as much as she felt theirs. ]

Oh! I-- F-forgive me, I did not see you there…!

oo2. → the festivities

[ depending on her luck in finding a familiar face within the safehouse, Arya would have either taken her search outside of the safehouse or opted to take a look around at her new "home away from home", as it were. as it turns out, she decided to leave the safehouse at possibly the best — or worst — time possible. she had already been told of the immense population found within New Amsterdam, but even the warning was not enough to prepare her for being surrounded by thousands upon thousands of people.

she was by no means unfamiliar with high populations, as she grew up in one of the three main city-states in Eorzea, but being surrounded by this many people made Limsa Lominsa feel more like a backwater town than a proper city. all of the sights and sounds and smells were overwhelming her, along with all of the technologies she only had a hair-brained understanding of, and it was getting to the point where she might end up suffering from sensory overload just from one section of the crowd alone.

she might also be a little lost. someone please help this poor girl before she gets run over by the party-goers. ]

oo3. → wildcard

[ exactly what it says on the tin: Arya will be anywhere and everywhere within the proximity of the safehouse, so come at me! ]


[ OOC: this is a new voice and i've not rped her at all before this, so please be kind and patient! ;; ]

oo1-b

[verflair]

[ It was not terribly long ago that X'rhun was on the other end of this situation, freshly dropped off somewhere strange with naught to his name but a set of scrubs and a newly shaven head. As such, he's still not entirely used to the bond that he and others share – someone bumps him and the shock of anxiety hits him like a spear of ice, but it causes something protective to well up in his chest as well, his own feelings at war with the ones pouring through the bond.

He whirls around, words of encouragement on his lips but it all falls away in an instant.

Arya looks... quite different without her hair, and truth be told he might not have realized it was her had she not spoke. But speak she does and for a dizzying moment, he has to wonder if he's dreaming. How long has it been? How many times did he visit that infernal space station only to find her time and again, silently sleeping behind glass? How often did he catch himself hoping that one day, one day, they'd be reunited? And now here she is, and the encounter is bittersweet. He would not wish this upon her, the alien thing in her chest and the technology shoved into her head, but gods, he is so very glad to see her. ]

Arya?

[ He looks a fair bit different than the last time she saw him, hair but short fuzz, a paltry moon's worth of growth, and dressed in the fashion of this world, hat upon his head. But his eyes – they remain the same, and there is something hopeful and worried both in his gaze. ]

diana prince | dceu

[consolidating]

ARRIVAL ; POWERS

[ It's a form of despair that's very much a physical ache in her chest. She only felt like this twice - a little village lost in a fog of toxic gas, Steve's plane exploding in the sky above an airfield.

Earth has suffered greatly, many have died, much has changed and there is a moment in which Diana feels like her heart is sinking. It's not that she feels inferior now without her powers - humans can and have changed the world for the better and the worse. It's only that she can't help the survivors as well as she could have if she still had them and she feels robbed of that part of herself.

It all reaches a point of climax outside her simple safe house, a surge of anger and despair that seems to do something, to shift something in her - something utterly new. A surge of something erupts, creating a circle around her.

All the objects outside her are pushed outside of that circle and she looks around her, lifting a hand to try and touch the changed air around her.

She also tries to relax, if only so she won't create another one by mistake, this one seems to be vibrating with energy. ]

HISTORY LESSONS;

[ She watches the videos in silence.

Wrapped in a coat, she stands to the side, hearing the excited chatter about this historic date, about everything it symbolizes to these people who seem to cherish victory over peace.

Not so different from home, then. Earth is earth, humans are humans.

It reminds her of the victory celebrations at the end of the Great War, of VE-Day years after. ]

No one ever learns.

[ it's a terribly sad realization. ]

NETWORK;

( username: diana.prince )

Is there a facility anywhere in the city?

history lessons

[trikru]

[Lexa does not recognize the woman, but her words aren't missed over the celebratory cheers surrounding them. Neither is the solemnity that seems to carry them - her expression doesn't share in the revelry of the locals, that much is clear. So she nods her head, keeping her approach subtle.]

Do you believe they could have won this war without violence?

[It's a genuine question. She is curious for the answer.]

lexa | the 100

[trikru]

1: arrival

[The young woman standing in the corner of the room is, by initial judgment of appearances, small and subdued. A refugee on an alien world, she is remarkably quiet, speaking rarely to any of the others within the safehouse's interior. While she spends this time becoming accustomed, she can be found in a few places:

a. In the communal showers, she is wrapped in a white towel, studying her reflection in the mirror. There are three visible tattoos on her body: patterned on her right arm, an infinity symbol on her neck, and the tangle of circles straight down her spine. She has her fingers on the infinity symbol - where a long scar bisects it - but fingertips soon travel to the implant's newer mark.

b. Standing in the kitchen and examining the strange appliances with a bewildered expression. Her hair has been shaved to a boyish cut, so she's found a hood to wear over her ears, face bare of war paint.

After some time, Lexa begins... experimenting with the microwave. Should your character walk in, they will find her placing several different items (silverware, a plate, a mug, a wet dish rag...) onto the tray without food.

c. Arguing with a member of Morningstar, no longer seeming small or meek - her shoulders are squared, confidence and anger radiating from her features.]

Do you expect me to accept this? [Though not yelling, her voice carries volume.] Am I meant to become your tool, used to spy on your enemy?

2: network

@heda.leksa
I don't care how many times I have to say it. Remaining here is not an option. I won't tolerate lies and deceit. How were we brought to this place at all, yet unable to leave? That's simply not possible.

Those who choose to hide behind secrets must face me.

[Her people need her.]

3: history lessons

[She's no stranger to war. While the meaning of the festival's celebration is mysterious, Lexa is drawn to the simulations displayed by several UNA officials. It is easy to fall under the spell of virtual reality - everything is an illusion of the senses, a world of spellbinding solidity as she takes a first step into that futuristic battleground. Perhaps not so unlike many she's stood on before, provided the planet had paved its fate in another direction.

For anyone who accompanies her into the war-torn simulation, they will find her a fearsome and skillful ally against the enemy. Through it, she does not lose her sense of self or awareness of what she is in, but it does not diminish her ruthlessness.

Near the end, an accident - one which happens too quickly to correct - throws them into the direct line of fire. Lexa bears witness to the brutal slaughter of her companion in front of her. She doesn't hesitate to pull out of the simulation in suit, as they're disconnected.]

Ste yuj. You fought well.

[She sets a gloved hand on their shoulder, speaking with sincerity. The words in Trigedasleng go untranslated by the implant for now.]

1a—going full shameless here idgaf

[strove]

[Clarke had been at work when the call came in, leaving her unable to hit the ground and help bring people in. No explanations, no toiling around in a party that's meant for people to have fun. It's just a matter of getting there afterward, checking in on the first aid room to see if her supplies are in order, and then taking a shower. It's been a long, hot day outside, and what she needs most is to be clear-minded and ready.

Wrapped in a towel in the most inappropriate place for a reunion possible, Clarke finds her breath sucked out of her. Her throat is tight as she takes in the familiar tattoos, marks she memorized when she could, fingers tracing over flesh just before her lips followed them. It's not hard to make out that Lexa is Lexa. Hair or no hair—and she has a lot less, given that Lexa had entirely too much before—she knows her.]

Lexa.

[It's a simple matter of stating her name, but the pain is palpable and real. Clarke can feel her hand shaking before she bunches it up in a fist, trying to steady herself.

Lexa.

Murphy and Bellamy coming from the past should have prepared her for this possibility.

As it turns out, it didn't.]

barry allen | dctv

[supertardiness]

003. adjustment periods

[Barry Allen is an overly anxious new arrival, but not for the reasons that other people may expect. Barry was actually intentionally trying to travel between worlds when he landed in New Amsterdam. He had been hoping that the combined force of he and Kara would hopefully land him back on Earth-1, in the Central City that he knows and loves, but unfortunately he missed his mark and wound up ... here. Very far from home and definitely cut off from the speed force.

He doesn't like it here. But Barry Allen isn't Barry Allen if he wasn't trying to figure things out.

After trying to force that connection with the speed force several times over and causing himself nothing but pain, he decides to try and get himself some more information instead. He clearly didn't have all the variables for this particular situation, so it's time to go learn something new.

But first it's time to eat. He's currently waiting on line for the food trucks, fidgeting like the beanpole he is, and he glances to the person behind him with a smile.]

Do you have any recommendations? I'm new in town.

005. flashbacks usually go to the other guy

[Barry isn't getting too close to the VR simulations, not wanting to participate so much as observe. He's never really been one to thrust himself into wars or battles, even as a hero, and given that he's much slower now he needs get used to that change of pace. In hearing about the AI wars, he can't help but think of Gideon, the AI that he built, and wonder if he just contributed to the problem, even if Gideon was designed to provide solutions.

Either way, he's got his pensive face on and is simply observing from a distance. If someone happens to stumble towards him, however, caught in the moment, he will definitely intervene to try and stop them and bring them back to reality.]

Hey. Hey! You're okay. It's not real.

008. a slower kind of heroing

[Even if he doesn't have his speed, that isn't going to stop Barry from trying to help when it's asked of him. He runs as fast as his feet will carry him (even if it's slow, too slow), he pulls people out as best he can, and by the end of it, he's struggling to breathe, but otherwise he's okay.

Or at least he thinks he is.

The thing about Barry Allen's anger, however, is that it's never been overtly obvious. It simmers under the surface as he pretends that everything's fine, grows until he's snapping at people around him who've done nothing wrong, into sneers at people who have it better than him, who have the things that he's missing. It might manifest at people who have overtly useful powers, as he hasn't determined his yet, especially those who may have any kind of speed.

He's tired of being useless. Honestly, the anger is more at himself than anyone else. But at the end of the day, that anger has got to go somewhere.

It's not recommended being in his way when he tries to explode.]

010. wildcard

[Feel free to set up whatever! Or PM me if you want something more specific.]

008.

[batricide]

[ Is that... Barry?

Damian stops short at the sight of him. He's not blonde. But that really doesn't mean much. Not nearly as old as he should be - but again, that also doesn't mean much with the crowd they run with. All he knows is that Barry got a clean slate and got set loose, so maybe he'd dye his hair and do a little plastic surgery. It's probably a different dimensions - it might even be that other dimensions, but Damian doesn't really give a damn.

A betrayal is a betrayal.

And he's angry. Angry enough to catch hold of his arm as he passes, whipping around to face him. ]

Well, well, well. If it isn't the traitor.

arcangelo corelli / neo yokio

[affluenzic]

explore the changes

[ yeah, hi. that dude that just bumped into him on the street? he's getting flung right off the ground by a very upset young man who worked very hard on his outfit. the poor guy doesn't know what hit him, and arcangelo doesn't know what he did.

he stares at his hands, baffled. ]

I... am I a magistrocrat now? [ this world isn't his world bUT!! contrast to the majority of people who get confused and upset, he clenches his fists and lets out a whoop of excitement. ] I found my ticket back to the good life, baby!

network
@arcangelo.corelli

I cannot BELIEVE this is what the future is like.
Who has time to work for their money? And where's the bachelor board? Are they seriously expecting people to know what to do if the elite aren't guiding them?
Ugh and the party scene here is so try-hard. I mean, sure you can be naked dancing on a table, but put some effort into it. Nobody's going to snap you if you're just standing there.

go nuts

[ After finally being released from the confines of the safehouse, Arcangelo is distraught at what the world has left him with. No money, no hair, no gucci. This is a nightmare from whence he can't wake.

So here he is. Left wearing the clothes of what HAD to be a blind commoner, poorer than a churchmouse. He has to... of all things, work for his money, like some lowly salesclerk. And who would hire him looking like THIS? This isn't even in SEASON. This color is all wrong and anyone with eyes will chase him out.

So here he is. A hand pressed mournfully against the glass display, head lowered. ]

[insurgent]

You're staring.

[ offered without looking at him, as she adjusts her messenger bag and slips a recent purchase inside. once satisfied, she looks up at him, brows arched. ]

Takes a bit more than that to make a purchase.

[ even with their neural wallets. ]

Alex Benedetto (GANGSTA.)

[windowsills]

➥oo1 EXPLORE THE CHANGES (cw possible gore description)

[ If she had known it would be this crowded in the street she never would have come here. It’s wall to wall people in a way Ergastulum never really achieved despite its large population. In Ergastulum one’s reputation and appearance kept those away from you, an innate knowledge of who was dangerous and who was just a bit less so. People have no regard for that respectful distance here. And Alex learns this too late as she finds herself swept up into the sea of commuters. Before she can get her bearings, someone’s bare arm knocks into hers and suddenly a wave of anxiety not her own rolls over her. Worries and heartbreak and anger. Intense and nothing like her own emotions.

Goosebumps explode all over her skin. Sweat starts prickling on the back of her neck.

She's frozen to the spot, people nudging and pushing her but she barely feels it over the panic clawing at her chest. It was like that touch was an open invitation for all her stress and sadness to burst free and she can suddenly feel him, right at her back. Just watching. She’s trapped in the crowd and entirely convinced he will get her this time. Her knees shake and then suddenly without warning her feet respond to her panic and she bolts, barrelling through the crowd ignoring the shouts and curses as she knocks against people.

She runs straight into someone and gives them the hardest shove she can manage. She’s small but running on paranoid adrenaline and fear. ]

➥ oo2 THE NETWORK

un: alex.benedetto

The videos of animals accessible on this implant. Specifically pets; cats and birds and things like that. Are there more like that? Where do I find them?

Or maybe the location of an actual animal. As long as the ‘touch’ doesn’t work on them. If it does, I’m just fine with the videos.

[ She seems to have all her priorities in order here. She needs a little comfort from someone that is not a person, but if she were to find out that a cute animal also has complicated and messy feelings it would probably kill the point of this quick fix.

And then to sign off in the most awkward way possible: ]

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

➥ oo3 ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES

[ Alex is extremely wary of venturing outside again, but it’s a little hard to avoid it while making the smallest attempt to look for work. And the wild commotion in the streets is everywhere, a completely inevitable interaction. She has never seen such a large group of people gathered so harmoniously and happy without a care. Even with the start of her awful week here, she is curious despite herself. Finding the longest sleeved dress she can, she ventures out very carefully, jumping a few feet away from anyone who almost touches her. She's hypervigilant now.

She stops dead in the street when she hears the music. Voices singing along to a hard thrumming song. Entranced, she wanders over to where a group is gathered, singing lyrics on a projected screen as the music happily kicks along. Alex doesn’t know the song, but she looks extremely wistful all the same, completely absorbed.

And then someone selects a familiar old song and the crowd yells something about 'too many archaic tunes', but Alex’s face breaks into a small delighted smile. She knows it and loves it well, something familiar and comforting. She wants to join, but she doesn’t know these people, doesn’t belong to them and she can’t even dream of imposing like that. So, she just watches with open longing on her face and hums along quietly. ]

➥ WILDCARD

( spring whatever on her! )

3

[blyat]

[His presence in the crowd doesn't carry purpose. There's no reason to loiter and listen, captured in the thrall of vocalists - some good, some bad, some with a voice like a golden instrument - while others spectate or sing along. Truthfully, he's never seen anything like this before. Not the least of which includes the sheer quantity of strangers on the street, outnumbering even that dark and unending party in the caverns below.

So he's here for the novelty. Here for the food, and the brief reprieve from a grinding and dreary week, so he'll stop thinking about how much his body aches.

Nothing snares his interest more than the woman standing alone in a long-sleeved dress, hum lost in the loudness of her surroundings. Cain only picks it up when he's within a closer radius, and the melody follows a weaving tune, light as dust in the air. He's still an arm's reach away when he speaks to her.]

It sounds like you know that song better than they do. [Archaic, or just unknown, the singing from attendees is well off the mark.] Why not join 'em?

Julian Devorak | The Arcana

[baneful]

OO3. Enjoy the Festivities

[Whilst the mode of arrival has all been terribly confusing and strange and, yes, downright frightening if one were to be brutally honest, it finally seems as though the whole abhorrent situation has a silver lining. A small one perhaps, only faintly discerned in the face of finding oneself in an alien world surrounded by alien people with one's hair rudely tampered with and - more disconcertingly - certain surgical alterations made without ones knowledge or consent, but it exists, and sometimes these small boons need to be capitalised on if an individual is to keep their wits and sanity relatively intact.

At the very least, he's no stranger to the experience of periods of amnesia. Just one more thing to add to the list of ever-mounting concerns, to the feelings of slow-growing dread.

But no matter, those thoughts are for later. For now there's a festival to attend and, he's quite sure, a drink around here with his name on it.

The one problem with this plan being that he's currently without a coin to his name, but that's something that can surely be circumnavigated.

That's where you come in, dear stranger!

Julian slides up to the first person he spots and leans bonelessly against the bar beside them in an effort to evoke camaraderie (but also quite possibly to make his considerable 6'4 inches in height seem less imposing) and flashes the most dashing of smiles.]

Be a dear and buy me a drink, would you? I'm new in town and a bit strapped for cash, but I promise I'll make it up to you.

006. Getting In...or perhaps, Getting Thrown Out

[Somehow, despite being so green around the gills so to speak, he's managed to schmooze and sweet talk his way into one of the city's illicit gambling dens, and whilst it's quite possible he's keeping an ear out for valuable information, anything at all that could lead to either context or clues of their current situation, it admittedly isn't his first priority at this precise moment in time. He's here, more than anything, on a bit of a jaunt, an attempt to have fun and blow off steam, and perhaps even earn himself some extra coin whilst he's at it.

Which is why he's chosen to go down the hustling route, skillfully acting the relative novice until the last possible moment and walking away with the highest stakes. A tactic that may have gone well...if he hadn't played just one game too many and been rumbled by the discerning eye of the local mobsters.

Angry exclamations abound, there's the ugly scrape of chairs being pushed aside and as his competitor swings a bottle for his head, Julian neatly sidesteps it with a flourish. However, the movement brings his back flush up against the wall, tempers are rising, and things are no doubt about to get rowdy.

Care to step in? Though whether you wish to engage in the brawl or try to smooth things over remains to be seen.]

010. Wildcard

[Surprise me!]

((OOC: This is Kam/Giovanni's player and I'm basically voice testing so excuse the new character awkwardness!))

003!!!!!

[colemans]

(gladio offers the move a very skeptical, very amused side-eye from his spot at the bar. he's enjoying a very frothy pint and reading something his implant supplies him, appearing to have been distracted by some distant space — at least until julian melted onto the countertop.

this fucking guy.)

I don't know, man, "new in town"? Sounds like I'm never gonna see those credits again.

nill | DOGS: BULLETS & CARNAGE

[culver]

we can do anything if we put our minds to it [first days]

[It was not the first time in her life Nill had woken up drugged and restrained. As much as she tries not to, she still remembers her first moments in the lab where she'd been born. The pain, the confusion, and above all else, the fear are etched into her mind forever. The only one of those feelings that had gone away after a while was the confusion, because after being sold to Mel, she'd learned all too quickly exactly why such terrible thing had happened to her: because the world was a cruel place. It had been a harsh lesson to learn, but once she'd accepted it, dealing with everything had been so much simpler. She could stand the terror and the hurt because that was all she'd ever known, all she thought anyone had ever known.

But Heine had taken her away, and after being given a taste of what a real semi-normal life could be like (still full of fear, but much less pain), the second time in the same situation hits her much harder. Instead of any real feeling there's only a dull sort of numbness, one punctuated only occasionally by a stray thought. How did I get here? Where is Heine? None of them ever stuck around for long, and her first two days are spent mechanically, eating what she's given, never leaving the "safehouse." The only safe place she's ever known is the church, and even that hadn't been impregnable, as she'd learned several times over. Calling it "slightly less dangerous" might be more apt. They give her a new name, offer her a new life, and all she can do is stare mutely down at the new card in her hand, looking a name that's half hers, half a lie. But a lie is better than nothing at all, isn't it?

She feels different, but in a way she can't quite name. There's a dull ache at the back of her head, and her hair has been cut--she doesn't realize that it had been shaved off, and is only now starting to grow back. When she puts on the clothes she's given, she hadn't cut holes in the back for her wings, and they stay pressed against her back beneath her shirts. The slight, occasionally-rustling protrusions earn her strange looks from others in the safehouse, but she doesn't notice. Everything is a blur, she goes about her days in a daze. People try to speak to her, and she doesn't respond. They think she's still in shock, but it's really just that she's broken as she always has been. This experience has just added a new layer.

Finally, upon waking on the third day, it really hits her. She's alone. She's been, essentially, kidnapped. Nobody is making her stay inside the safehouse, but she feels suddenly trapped, as if she's suffocating.

So she runs, like she always has. She doesn't get far, but only because nobody stops her. There are no obstacles in her way, no fences to keep her in, no doors with locks only on the outside. She's been taken and thrown into a world she doesn't know and a resistance she hadn't asked to join--but she's free.

Free.

Life becomes startlingly normal after that. Nill always, always takes caution. She never goes out at night, tries not to get caught anywhere alone. She keeps her wings hidden beneath a coat that's too big on her skinny frame, but she does occasionally shed it when she thinks nobody is looking. She often goes to the river, standing on its concrete banks, staring down at the rushing waters, unable to believe that people could have made so much water run in one place. When she isn't looking down at the water, she looks up at the sky, staring at it for long periods of time; she's never seen so much sky at once, and still finds it hard to believe. But it seems to go on forever, and she's heard that there are other worlds out there, that some of the people here are actually from those other worlds. It's almost too much for her to process; before now, her entire world had been Mel's place, then the confines of the church and Granny Liza's shop. To know that there's so much more--it makes her smile, even when just days ago she'd felt so desolate for being here, away from her friends. Away from everything she'd ever known.

Now there's so much to know, and she doesn't know where to start.]

take your whole life then you put a line through it [festivities]

[Nill has never seen a festival before, let alone attended one. She's unable to hide her wonder as she wanders through the streets, staring wide-eyed at the food trucks. She's never smelled anything to delicious, and even though she's recently eaten, her stomach growls as she nears one of them. She has no idea what kind of food it's serving, but she knows she wants some, even if she doesn't have much money yet.

Later, after she's eaten, she comes across a karaoke stage. As with the food, she has no idea what the songs are--but she finds herself bobbing her head along with them soon enough, her wings rustling beneath the jacket she wears to keep them pressed against her back. She always stays near the back of the crowd, careful not to get too close to the stage or too close to anyone in particular. Anyone who spends a moment watching her will notice that she does her best to avoid the center of the crowds, and always looks and moves with a certain wary air about her.]

my love is yours if you're willing to take it [network 1; @nill.klein]

im looking for a man
he has white hair and red eyes
he frowns a lot
his name is heine

or a woman
naoto
she has a sword

or badou
he smokes a lot and cries sometimes

i need to find them
please
they are my friends

give me your heart 'cause I ain't gonna break it [network 2; @nill.klein]

are there really other worlds?
what are they like?
what kind of animals are there?
can you see the sky like you can here?
i want to know

so come away, starting today [wildcard]

[i'm down for anything! feel free to pm me or hit me up on plurk at watchet if you'd like to do something specific. i haven't decided on a power for nill yet, but i'm good with any empathetic interactions!]

i have to... KARAOKE

[colemans]

(she looks lost, that's what he notices over the head of his beer. enjoying herself, but ultimately lost. it makes him think of iris.

well, his little sister could kick any ass in this crowd, but that doesn't mean gladio would let her handle the situation all by herself if he was present at the time. that'd just be bad manners and fighting with her is better than breathing, so it's high time he sets down the drained beer, gets on up out of his chair, and approaches the blondie with every intention to help. he's not exactly covert about it either, a six-foot-six man with muscle on tattooed muscle.

gladio just steps right up through that centre of the crowd she's been avoiding and says:)

Hey, cool music, huh? (a jerk of his thumb at the stage, slouching a bit to make himself as compact as he can so as not to spook her — even though he knows that smart, wary look is going to turn his way.) I can't do any air guitar to this, it's got too much synthesizer... think I should try anyway?

gladiolus amicitia, not apping but ota. :eyes emoji:

[colemans]

002▸ @GLADIOLUS.AMICITIA

Books weren't cool enough 4 the future?
What happened 2 holding smth real in ur hands?
That new book smell ne1? Lol

006▸ THEY'RE GETTIN' IN, THEY'RE GETTIN' INSIDE

—apparently I'm an Aries.

(a guy needs to let off some steam now and again, alright? but he seems pretty buddy-buddy with the bartender who is chuckling at his joke while she polishes glasses. it's not every day someone guesses what your birthday is and gladio's rather impressed with the too-drunk woman well into her fifties who was trying to wheel and deal him out of the club. the brave broad hobbled off, though, somewhere. back into the wild.

he's still cracking a smile when someone sits down next to him. by then his beer buzz makes him just friendly enough to swivel and ask:)

What's your "sign"?

(both him and the bartender snort, but gladio waves his hand to make sure their visitor knows they're not being mocked.)

Seriously, I just got a crash course on this, but I'm still foggy on the details. Know what any of it means? I sure as hell don't.

008▸ IF YOU GET CAUGHT YOU BETTER KNOW

(run into a building for what? noctis might've been stupid enough to dive in but wasn't when he arrived, neither was the more sensible ignis, and prompto wasn't around complaining about smoke inhalation. futhermore? he heard no civilian cries and the fire department arrived right on time. for him, the risk wasn't worth it — even if a little fire never spooked him. no reward, no can do.

but the effects of the virus spread through the city and gladio feels a responsibility to keep at least their part of the city safe.

so maybe he catches you picking a fight with someone and he's hellbent on intervening. maybe the symptoms are late to kick in and you just happen to be hanging out with him when they do. or maybe you need help with someone else who's infected and ask for his aid. any damn way you slice it, the shield is getting involved and he only has one thing to say in response:)

Relax, I'm here to help.

(and he's going to follow through with that whether it's appreciated or not.)

010▸ THEY'RE GONNA REAP, YOU'RE GONNA SOW

That's the last load, (gladio shouts, slapping the girder he's hoisted onto the nearest crane bed,) bring it up!

(the giant machine in question practically builds buildings on its own, but he still salutes the men doing the dangerous work up top. robots can't do everything, there has to be some manpower involved — and that's where he comes in, doing all the construction site's heavy-lifting. it's great exercise.)

Hey, you. (spotting a civilian encroaching on the site, a bit too close by his margins, gladio addresses them with a short wave.) You'll need to give us a wide berth; things can get pretty dangerous in here. Unless you're lookin' for a job, I mean, 'cause we might actually be interested.

—are we interested, Rob?! (a pause, listening to rob's distant shout.) Yeah, we're interested. Want to make a few extra credits?

@yalena.yardeen

[motivation]

so, you're a nerd

oswald | knights errant

[cauterrant]

002. NETWORK

► @dytel

[ okay, the idea of this "implant" is ... honestly doubtful, but let him try. ]

is this some elaborate hoax or do these food honestly have bugs in them?

003. RESOLUTION DAY FESTIVAL

► LASER TAG

[ Oswald is just trying to look around, maybe listen in on any conversations that catches his ear for any kind of intel on this strange city that he now found himself in ... thanks to the device that is supposedly embedded in his head, communicating with these foreigners haven't been a problem, as well as the question of money. no, his main problem was to blend in. everything that he saw or touched in this city so far have been something out of a story. but no bard could possibly imagine things on this scale, the sheer height of the buildings, the lights that didn't rely on any candles, not to mention the technology.

like the laser tag pistol that one of the people manning the entry to the city block hand to him right now. ]

...

[ he turns it over in his hand to examine it, weighing it in the palm of his hand, before glancing at the nearest person for help. ]

It seems that we've been recruited into this mess.

[ a little wryly: ] Mind if you show me how to operate this weapon?

006. CRIMINAL ACTIVITY

► FIGHT CLUB

[ getting in wasn't the hardest part in this whole venture; after he "gently persuaded" the door guard to let him in, everything else was pretty seamless as a whole. no, the problem was now, with somebody deciding that Oswald doesn't belong here. Hey, pretty boy, I'll pay you a fiver for that pretty ass of yours, he slurrs out, spittle wet on his lips or maybe it's the remains of the shot he tosses down before stalking over towards where Oswald is, leaning against the bar with an elbow with a drink in hand (it's something pale and frothy like ale, but tastes much different; maybe it's got bugs in it too?).

Oswald just smiles as if he's flattered, before he tosses back the rest of the drink and smashes the glass straight into the other's face, angling it so that it breaks his nose as messily as possible. there's blood everywhere as people start jumping in, and it descends to a bit of chaos before they get pulled apart.

long story short, that's kind of how he finds himself on the precipise of the ring in question, carefully wrapping a bit of cloth around his hand over his knuckles and eyeing the opposite end where a guy waits, riled up and dying for a fight. if he catches you staring, he's just going to grin through the bloody nose and split lip. ]

Should just have kept his fucking mouth shut, am I right?

010. WILDCARD

► hey ho here we go

[ anything else you want to do? im keen to try anything, so message me or throw me something here or at sdat and we can do it! ]

fight club...

[anbu]

[Itachi does not particularly want to be here. Wearing full-length sleeves, pants, gloves, and a collared shirt he can turn up to protect a bare neck - skin shielded against stray touch - the warmth is almost oppressive. Yet he's here, and he's learned information at times may trickle like blood off knuckles in places like these. No worse than darker corners of the shinobi world.

After witnessing the entire violent situation unfold, he's chosen a spot away from commotion, incidentally nearest the corner of the ring where the young man is thrust forward. Observing coolly, he reveals no surprise at the words spoken to him.]

Exercising your own restraint might be worthwhile, next time.

[Criticism dry as a hot sun on baked stone. You're not exactly innocent here, Oswald... then again, perhaps that's the point of this place? Wild, unleashed aggression?]

Fai D. Flourite | Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle

[flowrite]

((CW for some low-key suicidal ideation, and just because it's Fai. He's a warning all on his own.))

Network | @fai.flourite

Has anyone here met a young lady named Sakura, or a young man named Syaoran? Or maybe heard about a power source that looks like a feather?
Sorry, that might sound a little weird! but it's really important to me, so I'd appreciate it if anyone has any news, okay? Thank you!


working for the weekend (wildcard)

[A job as a bartender isn't too far-fetched, honestly. He'd taken to customer service pretty easily back in Outo, running the Cat's Eye Cafe, and this isn't all that different--except instead of pancakes and chocolate fondant he's serving alcohol. But that's also something he knows pretty well, so hey, as long as he doesn't drink too much on shift he should be fine, right?

So maybe this area of the city is a little rougher than he'd have cared for. The eyepatch and the butchered blond hair don't exactly make him look like a friendly, upstanding citizen, do they? And if he's skinny and doesn't look like he'd put up much of a fight, well. The first time someone tries something they're in for a nasty surprise.

...maybe. Depends how he feels that day. Depends if it feels like it matters enough to fight back.

Anyway.]

What'll you have, stranger?

[Have a big, friendly smile that's only mostly fake. But you probably don't care enough to tell the difference anyway.]


criminal activity (vampirism)

[It's been months. Months in this world he doesn't remember, but months in which he's pretty sure Ku-- that man wasn't here. And yet he's still alive. He can feel the need for blood burning in his veins, slowing his reaction times, blurring his thoughts and aching in his joints. It's just like back in Infinity, except this time he's not holding out to punish anyone, or to prove that he can die on his own terms. This time he's just going to die.

And yeah, it takes him longer than it probably should to work up the energy to do something about it. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he didn't. He's not sure at first there's anything he can do. But if he's still alive, and that man isn't here, maybe those needle marks on his arms and the plethora of scars mean something. There's really only one way to find out.

Thing is, he doesn't have prey here. He doesn't even have friends, although he'd hate himself even more for asking that of a friend. So maybe it's better to keep it anonymous.

Maybe you're on your way to a fight, or out for some gambling, or looking to score. Either way you're both on the wrong side of town and the skinny blond here is just standing there on the sidewalk, scanning the area, looking like he's not sure where he's supposed to be.

Where does one go to find a blood donor?]

vampirism

[anbu]

[The transition from brightly-lit towers of a wealthier district down into the dim, dull corners of poorer avenues offers a picture of stark disparity. Itachi, reluctant to approach the foreign technology of hovering vehicles and payment-by-implant, has begun to map the city on foot. And it only concludes that to truly see all New Amsterdam contains, he should not shy away from the neglect and filth of the street-level areas choked by crime. He doesn't fear for his safety in any genuine sense - even without the abilities he's harnessed his whole life, he does not remain defenseless.

Still, he'll appear out of place: a thin-statured shadow of a man, black hair recently shorn, growing close to the skull and barely tickling his ears. Black eyes are watchful and vigilant of his surroundings, and so he picks out the individual on the sidewalk without effort.

That's an anomaly. Not someone who appears to belong to the landscape. Itachi approaches, uncharacteristically proactive.]

Is something wrong?

Sasuke Uchiha | Naruto, why am I doing this to myself

[eyeforaneye]

[ Around Town (1) ]

[ Neon lights illuminate dark eyes to show the deep grey hidden in what appears to be solid black, and Sasuke doesn't give into the powerful urge to blink. Instead his gaze remains fixed on the shop window, undisturbed and undistracted by the ad playing on the inlaid screen just to the right. All it is is a looping video that showcases what he came over here to see, after all, and it no longer holds any interest for him. All he sees...

are the mechanical eyes of a robot puppy, staring right back at him. Dead but convincing. Wrong. If anyone would happen to be watching him then they'd observe that he's been standing here for at least five minutes now, entirely unflinching as the world passes by behind him. And still he stares. ]

[ Around Town (2) ]

[ For a world in recovery, the park is beautiful. Decently maintained, elevated above the pollution that settles low between tall buildings, equipped with attractive structures and state of the art facilities. Really, it's only missing one thing. The same problem that the "pet store" he'd visited earlier had been attempting to cover up.

Sasuke sits quietly on one isolated bench, a bag of seeds placed next to him. It's clear he's been reaching into it if the way they dot the pavement in front of him is any indication, but... not a bird in sight.

Not a single one flying down to appreciate his efforts. Just painful, sad, depressing silence. All he can do now is break it to address the person he senses close by. ]

The sky seems greyer today. [ hELLO ]

[ Café ]

[ Maybe you've just come into the café for a simple coffee. Maybe a slice of cake, orange-flavored to suit the season. Maybe you're here just to hang out. It doesn't matter, not when the severe man sitting at the table in the back is muttering to himself, finally catching notice of the nearest person that he can subject to his consternation. ]

You. Come here, take this seat. It's important.

[ Network ]

@sasuke.uchiha
cats in nature

[ That's it, that's the whole message. ]

[ Closed to Itachi ]

[ It's been seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes since he messaged his brother requesting a meeting, and given the expected alacrity of his response Sasuke knows he won't be kept waiting long.

Really, choosing this particular place for a meeting was a mistake. A sushi restaurant? That's certainly how it had chosen to advertise itself. Having sampled some of their items now, however, in an attempt to have a recommendation ready for Itachi... well, they're a pale imitation of what they're accustomed to. Nevertheless, they can always dine primarily on their own shared criticisms. Maybe it'll make this easier.

So he waits, waits and practices a casual greeting in his mind. ]

café

[dipolar]

...

(saying "no" and walking away would be his first instinct if jake didn't tell him to buck up, sell the drugs to anyone who looks strung out, and get some of their new product out in the open. this seems like a good opportunity to do so, considering the guy looks and sounds off, hei's fingers cinching tighter around the edge of his croissant's plate.

reluctantly, he moves to the back of the café and takes a seat like he's told. their eyes reflect hell.)

It'd better be. I'm busy.

shinjiro aragaki (persona 3)

[hoboagogo]

001. this power is shit

[It's unclear how it happened: maybe just a brawl outside a seedy den, maybe a legitimate accident, maybe your character was the one starting the problems? Either way, there's the flash of a knife and your character takes a quick, glancing blow giving them a shallow slice, before Shinjiro is grabbing them by the back of the shirt and hauling them back.]

The hell're you doing? [A few more steps back, and that pain is starting to cease as the wound disappears- and Shinjiro curses again, drawing back his arm

-as an identical slash starts bleeding through his own shirt, casually seeping through the worn, ragged fabric. He grabs it with a groan, eyes rolling up in clear aggravation.]

....You gotta be kidding me.

[But hey at least you're healed.]


010. makin my way downtown faces pass and i would really just rather be dead, thx

You know what? Ending up here probably isn't even the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him. (Though even when he tries to think of it that way, it's still a pain in the ass.) Hell, he fought through a weird space/time rupture that existed because of a failed time machine by shooting himself and freeing a monster that lived inside his head. Compared to that, a weird futuristic city is nothing.

Though that doesn't change the fact that it's still a huge pain in the ass, and he'd still kind of rather be dead.

But laying about Morningstar's hideout and inwardly griping about life hadn't accomplished much of anything, and it really hadn't taken that long before another batch of arrivals had come. And then another. And then they need that bunk, and he'd been encouraged to set out and find some other means of survival, rather than simply wasting time staring at the ceiling and simultaneously being amazed that his Persona is gone and locked away from him somehow, and annoyed that he's still-fucking-alive.

And that brings him here- wandering around the city and staring at the flashing signs and lights and the massive buildings, way huger than anything Iwatodai could boast. Maybe Tokyo, too, though he'd never been. And it's just--

Tiring. The idea of having to try and understand it all, to try and survive, knowing that he's too much of a damn coward to do anything but grit his teeth and claw by day to day.

So yeah, it's probably not surprising when he finally just sits down against the side of a building, right there on the sidewalk, head tipping back to lay against the brick. Maybe he could just look pathetic enough and people would throw enough credits at him that he could get a sandwich or something. (Does it even work that way when everyone's wallet is in their brain? Man, who even knows. Even panhandling's changed here.)

A groan, and he shuts his eyes. "God, this sucks." Outloud to no one in particular, looking every bit the street-hollowed, angsty teen he is.


007. (rocky theme blares loudly)

[Watching the guys in the ring beat the shit out of each other just makes him homesick, and that's a weird feeling, especially since he kind of hates anything that could be considered 'home'. The sheer joy in their eyes, even as they bleed from the nose and mouth, the thrill they get from fighting. The passion in it, the dull thumps and cracks of fists meeting flesh, the shit-talking--

Well. Maybe it just makes him homesick for his best friend. It's way too easy to imagine one of them being Akihiko, grinning through blood dripping down half his face, eagerly punching the hell out of whatever or whoever needs punching because all boxers are just a little bit crazy, in his opinion. It's probably all the blows to the head.

Either way, the fight's ending, and he's lost his bet, a small visual flare in his HUD notifying him of five credits lost. But hey, he's still making out ahead for the night. And so he'll lean over to talk to his neighbor at the edge of the cage, eyes looking forward as the next two fighters enter the ring and start their preparations.]

You betting on this one? Or waiting for a go in the ring?

[There's always a few minutes between matches as they throw a bucket of soap water on the floor to rinse the blood towards a drain in the middle, so might as well get a feel for things while he waits.]


[Network; in honour of the polar vortex]

@aragaki.shinjiro

[yeah he fucked up on the order of his name there]

yo so apparently theres gonna be some storm
anyone got a floor i can crash on for a bit
promise i wont steal your shit and ill be out soon as it stops being negative balls degrees outside



[ooc; Feel free to throw anything at me, as for another prompt, whatever!]

network -- hello..............

[dormition]

Senpai, did you decide to leave the safehouse without a plan on where to go next with a storm like this?

[ Minato could comment on seeing him again for the first time after he's died. He could express doubt that this is really Shinjiro Aragaki.

Nah. It is what it is. And there's no point railing against fate. If they want to have conversations about miraculously alive dead people, they'd have to start with him, and he'd really rather not. A lot better to nag his senpai on how irresponsible he is. ]

philip pearson | travelers

[historicize]

001. FIGHT CLUB

[ this is not the first time philip has woken in a different time, in what feels like a different world. from what he learns between waking in the van and coming to fidget in the dim of a safehouse, he's not when he'd been and he's not when he'd initially come from. this time, at least, he doesn't have to navigate the pitfalls of a new body, though he's well aware that there is something about the one he's most recently learned to tolerate that feels off in ways he doesn't want to explore.

while he doesn't remember what happened—which is jarring when his brain is hot-wired to remember everything—he remembers what he'd done the last time this happened, even if that had been planned, scripted, almost perfect.

which is what led him here, brushing up against the bar as the crowd hollers encouragement and insults at the two fighters in the ring behind him. he almost looks like he belongs here, long hair and piercings seeming to fall in line with the particular vibe of places likes this, but the way he holds himself leans more to the side of guarded timidity than nonchalant enjoyment. he glances over his shoulder at the chaos currently breaking out in the cage, and then turns back, brows lifting a little from what looks like it could be a chronic furrow. ]

Anyone taking bets?

[ horse races are his usual gambling venue, and already knowing the outcome is his usual method for winning big—one of the few perks of living in a century that came before the one you were born in—but he doesn't have the same luxury here. despite all evidence to the contrary, he's hoping luck will be on his side tonight. at least this place doesn't drip with the same feeling of imminent danger that the actual gambling dens seemed thick with. ]

002. HISTORY LESSONS

[ history is in philip's job description, so he figures he might as well start constructing a better picture of what the history is here if this is going to be a long-term thing. he watches the initial videos, focused and thoughtful if unsure about how he's supposed to feel about people and AI being so at odds, and then, for the sake of accuracy, agrees to take part in a simulation. if you happen to enter with him, you'll find he knows his way around a firearm well enough, but a full-out battlefield is far beyond his area of expertise. after hesitating one two many times or stilling at the sight of a body falling to the ground, he pulls himself from his immersion, a violent jerk to anyone watching from the outside. ]

Sorry. [ either to you or the UNA official in front of him. he huffs a laugh from between his teeth, mouth crooked. he looks more sticken than amused. ] It's not really my thing.

003. NETWORK | @philip.p

does anyone feel the need to welcome me to the 26th?

[ ... a small attempt at a coded message. but hey, feel free to say hi even if that is kind of a weird question! ]

001

[blyat]

[Arriving at the bar fresh out of a fight, Cain's still windblown and reeling from the adrenaline high, hair short around his ears and a visible bruise darkening along his jawline. It's not the worst injury he's had yet in the ring, but tonight was almost too easy, a cinch as soon as he'd focused on replicating Jason's methods. They played to his strengths well. He won more than he lost, most nights, and he was scraping in a fairly decent picture of this particular seedy underbelly.

Cain lifts his head at the question, a glass of whiskey hanging casually between his gloved fingers.]

Nah, should've done it sooner. I could've won you a lot. [Arrogant, he sips off the rim of his drink.] New here?