Test Drive

[uploadedmods]

TEST DRIVE 001


-TDM threads can be considered game canon if players involved agree & if it suits any roles you may decide to choose for the current plot.
-Any reserving player that does not submit an app by Saturday morning will be subject to challenging applicants.
-Participation in the Test Drive is worth a flat 10 points per month rather than per thread, and you must have a minimum of 5 comments in that month to qualify for it.
-This TDM is good for the duration of the Mist setting. A new TDM will go up before the next setting.

The NETWORK for this setting is a voice-only walkie talkie system that can be used to communicate between all locations. The default channel will be open to all walkie talkies, but characters can change to an unused channel for private conversation.
of note: There seems to be something strange about these walkie talkies, in that there is no static. The quality is disturbingly crystal clear, like the person you're speaking to is right next to you instead of miles away.

CONTENT WARNING: Some prompts contain gore, character death, and substance abuse.

Reserves will open on Saturday, September 8 until Saturday, September 15
Applications will open Saturday, September 15 until Saturday, September 22

General Prompts


The lights above you are a blindingly, pristine white. The walls around you curve up into the ceiling like the inside of an MRI machine. Your hands, feet, and midsection are strapped to a clinical table, and minutes seem to tick by, with no clear course for escape presenting itself to you.

The curved white space above you flickers with color, and a perfect square like a television screen expands before your eyes. It pans over what appears to be a town, something small and simply populated.

“Hello, and welcome to your first setting,” a neutrally cadenced feminine sounding voice begins, riding the line between human and machine. As she speaks, captions of the text type themselves in neat and perfect Arial font. “The location is loosely based off Bridgton, Maine, United States of America, Earth. The year is 2007. You have been selected to participate. Obedience ensures an enjoyable and immersive experience for our audience. If you have been granted a role, instructions will follow. Do not talk about the role. Do not attempt disobedience. If you have not been granted a role, your objective for this round is simple: survive.”

After that, the shackles may release promptly and allow your character to roam free. Or perhaps not — perhaps they've been given a role to play, and if so, further instructions will play out upon the screen. Once suitably briefed, characters will be released to their own devices. Beware the mist.

CHECK OUT THE CURRENT SETTING PAGE FOR DETAILS ABOUT THE LOCATION.

learn from the mistakes of others

A pair of unperturbed mall inhabitants decide to chance the mist. They're the first of a handful to trickle out the front doors, and they seem to get by just fine. About a minute ticks by, and they disappear completely into the dense fog that presses in from every direction. It's so anticlimactic that for a moment it almost seems stupid to feel uncomfortable by the sight of it.

Until precisely one half of a body is hurled abruptly and with great force from an indeterminate point in the obscurity. It's not a top half or a bottom half; no, it's a cleanly sliced left half, head to toe as though a neat line were cut down the middle. It slams into the transparent glass doors and crumples before them, still and obviously unmoving, slowly leaking.

After a few seconds, a dark tendril of something reaches out, curls around the jutting left ankle, and drags it with painstaking slowness back into the fog.

At least the rest of them probably made it, right?

Right?

Hopefully you weren't one of the others to follow their lead. If you were, that dark shape seems to be closing in awfully quick.

eff this, let's bounce

A pair of car keys can be found discarded or perhaps dropped in their owners' haste. Braving the mist when it's at its lightest and pressing the key fob will cause a car to beep politely, flashing lights to indicate its location in the fog. Take anyone willing to go with you and pile in. Try to get the hell out of dodge!

An excellent idea....

Within five miles of the car's journey the battery will die and the engine will stall. Consider yourselves effectively stranded and with no one but yourselves to blame. Perhaps help will come if you wait long enough? Hours, surely no more than a few days... Maybe you should consider braving the fog to get back? Five miles can feel like a hundred in conditions like these.

Either way, it seems like you're trapped in the car for about as long as R. Kelly got trapped in the closet during that one unfortunate CD.

radio chatter

Characters in the library and the church will be able to communicate via walkie talkie radio chatter immediately! Characters in the mall will not have this ability until later in the month, so any network style threads with a mall character will take place during Week Two of the October plot or later, after most people have already been fully introduced to the setting and given time to adapt.

Roles

Employee of the Month (Multiple)

Some characters will be printed wearing a designated kiosk uniform, their name sloppily stickered in slightly crooked letters onto a Dippin' Dots badge, or whatever store they may happen to be assigned to. The cool voice that introduces them to the mist will carry on to tell them that they'll be playing employee # _____ in this month's immersive experience. Their motivations and objectives are simple: go to work.

Except the role seems to be bugged, because they can never not go to work. If they leave the five or six foot radius of their designated post they'll begin to experience consequences, which worsen in severity based on distance and duration. The role doesn't end at mall closing, it doesn't end on Saturdays, it simply doesn't end. Hopefully next month's code push will have a bug fix; we apologize for the inconvenience.

(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the role will wear off within the first in-game week)

Aggravated Assault

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of a CONVICTED FELON having recently been released on parole. Your motivation for this month's immersive experience is frustration. Having undergone hard time, you'll find that we have increased your aggression and temper characteristics, and lowered your inhibitions. Your objective is to find and begin an altercation with Snuff the Rooster, who will be playing the role of the person who turned you in, NARK. Your altercation must take place in a public space with witnesses, and may not stop until Snuff the Rooster is unconscious, evicted from the mall, or someone intervenes.

Thank you for your participation!

Consequences for not completing the objective in this role can be moderate to severe.

Snuff the Rooster

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of NARK. Formerly a close friend and ally of CONVICTED FELON from Aggravated Assault, you were quick to roll on them during police questioning in exchange for your freedom. Your motivation is to turn over a new leaf, and get your shit together. Your objective is to survive the altercation.

Thank you for your participation!

The Lovers (Duo Role)

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing one half of a partnership role! Please seek out (character 2). Your motivation this round is love, and the need to protect your partner from threats both inside and outside of the mall. Your objectives is to greet your lover with a kiss and place them above all others. Do not act like strangers.
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role or failing to present a convincing couple can be mild to moderate.

Pathological

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. Your motivation is to tell lies; at least one third of what you say must be unarguably untrue. Your objective is to keep these lies from being discovered as false.
Consequences for not complying with this role can vary from mild to severe, with the compulsion to tell larger and larger lies growing as time goes on.

Scared Speechless

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. You may choose one person, stranger or otherwise. This is the only person you may communicate with, either verbally or through writing.
Consequences for not complying with this role are severe.

Glitches

potency error

Someone seems to have miscalculated the relative strength of intoxicants; all inhibition-altering substances seem to have been cranked up to eleven. One shot has the strength of three, though the taste seems to stay exactly the same. One or two drinks will quickly creep up on you. One of the joints found discarded in the bathroom trashcans will easily green you out. God forbid you've got anything stronger.

greatest movie of all time

Settling in to the relatively nice theater found at the far end of the mall is a decent way to make the time go by. The projectors are automated, and there are six different theaters that show flicks at scheduled times.

Except that every single one of them is showing Spider-Man 3. Every single one, every single showing, no matter what is advertised, becomes Spider-Man 3. That's how you know this is a horror game. Hope you didn't wander in by mistake because the doors will shut behind you and leave you to watch the entire showing. Please keep your feet off of the seats.

please replace toner cartridge

It seems there was an error in printing someone this first time around; everything came through but the visuals somehow. Your character is flesh and blood, fully formed, wearing tangible clothes even, but are completely invisible. Donning additional clothing causes it to clip out and then promptly disappear. Taking clothes off will cause them to reappear. Hopefully this gets fixed in the next lite patch.

(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the glitch will wear off within the first in-game week)

code bases by tricklet

Comments

others mistakes

[cheffeur]

[ He'd only just found a small coffee stand run by someone willing to overlook his lack of local currency, and now here it all goes, spilling to the floor in a wide, messy arc as a woman barrels into his side, taking them both halfway to the ground.

Ignis manages to get a leg underneath himself, catching the frantic woman by her upper arms to keep them both from smashing into the tile of the mall floor along with the lost paper cup of coffee. So much for that start of the day.

It takes a moment for his mind to catch up, to take in the situation. The girl had been running almost blindly, and looked just a few shades away from distraught, or disturbed, or something equally troubling and panic-inducing. Those well-honed caregiver instincts flare up, and he gently releases her arms, once he's certain they're both steady.]

Easy, there... [His voice stays careful and gentle- a lilting accent, words slowed as though to avoid distressing her further.]

Do you... need assistance?

[He knows better than to ask if she's alright. The answer is quite clearly a resounding 'no'. And given this place, he can't give any assurances that she will be alright. But at least he can offer some sort of help.]

DABI | My Hero Academia | OTA

[dabi]

arrival - pathological

[The first breath of air didn't feel right. It scratches and burns the inside of his ribcage, as if he's breathing in pine--a inward take of code that built him from the inside out. It echoes in the cavern of his newly-written skull and echoes out past burnt and damaged lips uncomfortably as his eyes take a minute to focus. But focus comes onto a completely baffling situation, as he takes a moment to process exactly what's going on.]

[Dabi's head swivels around, and he realises he's inside what appears to be some sort of computer hardware store. The lights are blaring and he's starting to see that he's not quite alone, either. Perhaps that's what causes his mind to stall a little in deciding its next course of action:]

[He can't trust anyone here. And he certainly can't be truthful to them about what he's thinking. Where he's from, who he is...]

[No, none of it would be free for any of them to have. That'd be easy enough, though--it's not like he was terribly truthful with anyone he knew back home, either. So he's going to take this situation with almost a laughable amount of amusement, for now.]

[The key is to survive?]

[That's easy.]

[Fingers move up to touch the front of his throat as a breathless little wheeze escapes him.]

This is someone's idea of a joke. [He travelled in circles that'd allow for it. So after a moment, he's already leaving the hardware store, a grin on an uncomfortably disfigured face. His usually low tone switching as he calls out into the bigger body of the Mall itself:]

And the funniest thing about it is that there's no punchline, right?

Learn from the Mistakes of Others

[For someone who has been yanked into a situation that's entirely alien and admittedly horrifying, this guy appears to be almost uncomfortably calm. His gaze is deadened, tired--as he gazes out past the wall of mist with an expression that can really only be described as bored. Perhaps it's the clear disfigured state of his face--the stapled-together rankled skin that looks impossibly burnt--that makes it difficult to give him any other look. After all, the look in bright blue eyes is almost wild in contrast to the rest of his calm-looking exterior.]

[And what he's staring at with that quietly intense expression? Movement in the mists. He'd seen two young idiots run out into it without any care to warnings or worry. Stupid, really. Dabi didn't like the idea of being trapped in a place like this any better than those two fools, but he wasn't about to go throw himself in danger without...]

[And then there's the stark visual of one of those aforementioned idiots being thrown back where he could see it. Wire-thin slices of flesh and bone, exposed organs...]

[All he could do was chuckle darkly, and turn his head towards the person standing nearest to him who was also watching this horrid turn of events. He doesn't seem that nonplussed about it, but instead, rather relieved he'd stayed on instinct to see what would happen for himself.]

Disgusting. [His voice sounds about as tired as the disfigured youth looks, staples keeping his mouth together pulling a little grotesquely as he appears to smile for a moment, before a hand moves to cover it. He can feel bile rising in his throat, but he masks his disgust easily enough.]

So, how about it. Want to chance it yourself?

potency error

[A mall hidden in fog. People being increasingly violent within the halls of some too-populated mall in the middle of 'America', as they've been told. Freaks of all shapes, sizes, and even people who seem to be invisible on first sight...]

[Yeah, it felt just like home, didn't it. Oh, except for the part that he witnessed a few people get brutally murdered by the aforementioned fog. If his task was to survive, then there was no way in hell he was chancing any of that. But it wasn't as if he was going to get a job, either.]

[No.]

[Instead, he decided to do what any wayward youth would do in a crisis situation: Make bad decisions and do whatever the hell he pleased until a better solution was either presented, or he came up with one inside an alcohol-muddled brain.]

[One might stare at the disfigured youth in question to whether or not he was even old enough to drink, but really--it was hard to tell when his face was barely recognisable under a mess of purpled scars and medical stitching.]

[And would you really care all that much when he seems to wave a hand at you, lazily, in a half-assed attempt to get your attention?]

Yeah, you. You've seen it already. Situation's shit. [He puts aptly, giving his head a nod as almost perfectly white teeth can be seen under his thin lips. He raises a paper cup--stolen from one of the food court stores, probably.] Sit and have a drink with me. Shit situations don't get much better.

But at least there are distractions like this.

[hairswirls]

( despite being catched by ignite, kirie still managed to find herself covered with small splashes of coffee, the sweater she was wearing ruined. not that she really cared, there were worse things to worry about now- like how she ruined the strangers coffee.

she quickly got up, helping ignis as much as she could before she looked up at him. her face was beat red now, embarrassed by what happened and the tone of voice he had to use with her.

despite that though, her voice is firm and her words are well pronounced. )

I am deeply sorry about that, I will replace the coffee for you. Are you alright?

( she’s ignoring his question for now, opting instead to place his comfort over hers. she remained still, her expression calming down until she remembered-

the mist. )

What direction are you heading in? Please don’t go where I came from!

[cheffeur]

No, no- It's quite alright. [After all, the drink is easily replaceable-- the mess may be more of a problem, but he'll figure that out later. She recovers impressively, though, and it helps him relax more himself. if she had continued bolting frantically in the direction she had been originally headed, he may have considered following.

At her indication, he looks up and back in the direction she'd come from. The entrance, if he recalls the layouts he'd seen posted up correctly.]

I wasn't going anywhere in particular. Did you come from outside?

[The question is a bit incredulous. It's certainly possible, and he can't dismiss the possibility- but he's heard the panicked whispers of people who had tried stepping out into the fog slowly creeping in on the building. There seems to be plenty of horror outside.]

learn from the mistakes of others

[protagonized]

[Simon refuses to carry a weapon, but he’s gone along anyway. His white doctor’s coat may make him stand out to the Mist monsters, but at least it’s universal code for a medic. He’s hefting a stolen backpack full of whatever first aid supplies he could scrounge in the mad dash for weaponry, feeling intensely foolish all the while.

He hasn’t earned it. He feels too young, too inexperienced to be here with all the gung ho fighter types. The ink on his diploma is barely dry for fuck’s sake.

So he may be extra snippy and sarcastic when he responds to the purple haired woman:]

Thanks for the observation. Wouldn’t have been able to tell on my own.

potency error

[hoboagogo]

[Shinjiro probably could have tried harder not to stare at the scarred and stapled flesh covering the guy's face, but that would have required actually giving a damn. It's the guy's face and the guy's problem-- of course people are gonna fucking stare, with how twisted up and irregular it is.

(Granted, it's not like he's much better. Plenty of people had been giving him concerned or curious stares, too. Maybe he should have tried to wash some of the massive bloodstains out of his coat.)

He'd been expecting to get snapped at for his obvious staring- and so the wave and greeting has him tilting his head, as though trying to figure out the guy's angle. None immediately visible, he shrugs a shoulder apathetically, turning to approach.]

...Sure. Got nothin' better going on.

[Granted, he won't actually drink himself. Too many issues with the idea of losing control. But the eclectic company is better than tooling around the mall in a circle, all alone and with no desire to do much of anything and even less of an idea as to what he'd be doing in the first place.

He steps up to the table and sinks down into the chair opposite the scarred boy, still unable to wrench his eyes away from tracing those stitches and scars.]

You make it sound like you got experience with shit situations. [He reaches out to take the bottle sitting on the table. He may be alleytrash, but he's capable of being somewhat polite-- and so he carefully reaches it over to refill the scarred man's cup for him, as he waits for a response.]

[dabi]

[Burned skin turns to steel when you've lived with it long enough to get used to the idea that, no matter where he went, people were going to stare at him due to what he looked like. It also made it a little easier when he thought on about what other freaks existed in his own shitty little world--and how their Quirks made them much more worthy targets for gawking than a goth kid being held together by bits of metal.]

[He takes a moment to look at this guy once he accepts his offer, noting his slight tone of apprehension but letting it slide as he sits down across from him. Bright blue eyes flicking to examine the bloodstains on the others' coat. He could ask about them, but decides it's a topic that's best saved for after 'pleasantries' and whatnot. They've got time, after all.]

Plenty of experience. When you come from a place like mine, you get used to shitty situations becoming regular. [He gives the other a somewhat sideways smirk, the expression pulling at those staples a little uncomfortably. His expression is somewhat placid, however, and he nods his head in thanks as he refills his drink. Wow, what a gentleman. Covered in blood and polite. Looks like he called over a winner.]

Can't say I've ever been kidnapped before, though. Interesting experience. Can't say I'd do it twice. [He raises the glass a little, tipping his head forward.]

How about you?

[relieable]

I wouldn't say that. [he rubs the back of his head, kind of glad to be talking to someone about this] I woke up in this room, an' there was a weird robotic voice telling me to do things. Saying where I was, what year it was... [what role he is supposed to play] After that, I was in this church. I don't know how I got from there to here.

[hoboagogo]

[There's practically an unspoken agreement between them already: neither of them are asking the most obvious questions first. There's probably a lot about both of them that immediately stands out, and neither of them immediately reach for the low hanging fruit. It helps him relax a bit more into this weird situation- to take it simply at face value, instead of trying to think and figure things out and find a solution.

(He really has never been the brains of the operation. Better than some of the others, sure. But never one to actually volunteer anything or put effort into figuring it out. This easy camaraderie is a nice reprieve.)]

Nah. Never been kidnapped. [A shrug, and he sits back, one leg crossing over the other comfortably as he lifts a hand to scratch at the scruffy hair tucked under his hat.] This part's pretty new.

The fog's kinda like a way more intense version of something we got back home, but that's about it. Our monsters were easier to deal with, though. And their appearance was pretty predictable. [Never thought he'd miss The Dark Hour, but here we are. An expected time, with rules about when it appears and who feels it and when more powerful Shadows attack. It took a lot of the uncertainty away from their fight.]

[Another shrug. It's basically his default gesture, especially with his hands tucking comfortably into the pockets of his coat.]

At least the mall here's nicer.

a.

[svp]

[ Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. You may choose one person, stranger or otherwise. This is the only person you may communicate with, either verbally or through writing. Consequences for not complying with this role are severe.

There's no reason to go against the order. It isn't entirely the fear of retaliation that motivates her, although she's recluctant to test the theory. It's just that given the state of things, there doesn't seem to be anyone who could answer her. (Haru's heard the screams drilling into the glass, the smeared afterimage of blood that one body left before those around her devolved into panic. None of them seemed to know anything better.)

She hears him before she sees him, tucked away from the bloodshed and those attempting to institute a barricade alike, addressing her. Habit has a way of warping perturbation. The words leave her in a flurried rush, propulsive. ]

Oh. Um, sorry, I hadn't realized.

[ Behind her, the dollar bill's already slid inside (being obscenely rich goes so far in ensuring she's loaded, though her role limits her from attempting any of the food stalls). One moment dissolves into another when realization breaks, although she hasn't seen Mona or any of her friends, but that's for the best. It's that much more palatable to accept what she's done. Still, she can't go without attempting to punching in the numbers.

A couple of minutes later, she's outfitted with two coffee cans, one of which she slides across from him, uncertain. ]

I thought you might be thirsty. [ If he's tried the vending machine to no avail, most likely. Now that she's picked the only person she's able to talk to in any capacity, she might as well attempt some semblance of a conversation. ] ... You might be right, though. Maybe one of them will make it to safety and get help.

[ There's nothing in her voice that indicates anything but ambivalence, but it's infinitely easier to agree than protest. ]

[hoboagogo]

[Well, at least she'd continued trying. He might have almost felt bad, had he known the extent of her situation, and that his careless lies may have cost her something to drink. (But that would require caring a little more, and-- well. He's not quite there yet.) He's expecting her success to be the end of it- that she'll take her spoils and retreat, because why the hell would anyone stick around? Shinjiro is rather miserable company on a good day, after all.

It would have made sense for her to carry on her way and leave as soon as she came, and yet she goes ahead and surprises him-- not just approaching, but offering forth a drink. His brows lift up in surprise, though the expression is fairly hidden behind the messy tangles of his bangs.

There's a long moment as he looks from her, down to the drink. Eventually, he decides his pride really isn't that important anyway, and he'd long ago learned to just take free food and drink when they were offered. No skin off his back, after all.]

Sure. [He sits up a bit straighter-- though his posture is still horrendous, hunched forward as he takes the offered can of coffee, pops the top, and goes for it.

She keeps talking, though, so he should... probably respond. Try and be less of an asocial asshole, instead of just taking the offered drink and going back to his shitty brooding. She looks just about as lost as everyone else in this place-- shoved into a bad situation, and constantly aware of the consequences of any ambition. It was hard to ignore the blood of the hopeful splattered mere feet away from the main doors, after all.]

Well, yeah. That weirdo machine said it's supposed to be entertaining, right? What good's a story where everyone dies? [More bullshit positivity. The words even feel hollow and stupid on his tongue, accentuated by the bitter aftertaste of the canned coffee. Sure, maybe it could be true: Maybe there is a chance, maybe it will work out. But Shinjiro really doesn't believe that to be the case. Nothing is that easy or that guaranteed.]

...Still wouldn't risk making a run for it myself, though. [And maybe that's the most true thing he's said so far.]

[generalstudies]

[His brow furrows a bit and his expression darkens- not because he hates the question but because he hates the answer.]

... Considering I've already been kidnapped I'd rather just cooperate for now, you know? [He could call it reconnaissance or whatever else he wanted, there was still some part of him that felt weak for just going along with it. It definitely didn't feel like what a hero would do. And he hated the excuse that he was just a kid, a teenager, and shouldn't overstep those boundaries. Hadn't the crappy part-time job just reinforced that image more?]

Besides, as much as the minutes have felt like hours, time's still passing. Eventually I'll be off the clock.

[There were also the small, sharp headaches that kicked in every time he intentionally tried to change up an order or shake up the routine. Still, this was apparently fine.]

[gloves]

Rogue groans. Nothing against Spiderman, of course. It's just that the third movie can suck it.

"How about getting into the projector room and turning the damn thing off?" She'll settle for that if they're stuck in here. The door's obviously open, at some point, because she'd gotten in. Maybe it's only from the outside, which means they just have to wait for someone else to wander in and not let them shut the door.

She also wasn't above beating the door to death with the film reel.

[apollogized]

[ Ah, nice. A solo mission. He didn't mind it so much but it'd take longer and he wasn't sure that was a good idea. There were monsters lurking around outside those glass doors and he didn't want to be vulnerable to them if there was anything he could do to prepare. Chris looks up at the voice and then around himself. What. ]

Yeah. Alright, Casper. [ Assumptions weren't the smart way to go but he had to make one. ] How're you going to do that when you have no hands or arms?

[ It was another voice over, right? Someone from the sidelines telling him what to do or making suggestions. ]

Unless that's something AIs can do now?

[apollogized]

[ Chris links their fingers, turning in the direction they need to go while making sure he doesn't drop her hand. Even if this is all a ruse, faking emotion and love, he doesn't have to fake the genuine desire to keep people safe. There's no lie in not wanting this woman to die. The familiarity between them, sure, but the rest could be legitimate. ]

You notice that some of the people are acting off? [ They start walking and he keeps close, voice lowered. ] There are those like us, you and me, who think we need to get to safety. Who know those people that died outside shouldn't have.

[ Then the others. The strange ones. ]

Look at them, around us. They keep doing what they'd normally do as if this isn't weird. If you talk to them, it all sounds rehearsed.

[ Another game, maybe? A part of the game. Actors? ]

[freightcars]

Despite the fact that he's expecting a voice, despite the fact that in theory there's no way this car could be driving itself, he still startles a little when Steve's disembodied voice permeates the ether. Just a little motion, a backwards jerk and a widening of the eyes. He passes a hand over his mouth, because of all the weird shit to happen today, this probably tops it.

He can explain, probably, being kidnapped. Can explain the weather, more or less. Can explain hallucinating in the fog, but he's got... absolutely nothing for this. Nope. Just nothing.

"Wish I could say the same," He says skeptically because he's not sure it counts as finding a person if there's no... person. The car rolls forward, and after a tentative beat, Bucky reaches out in the general direction where he thinks Steve's arm should be. Just... to see if it actually lands on anything. If it doesn't, he's leaving the car and looking for the nearest funny house.

[freightcars]

He has to tilt his head a little, an unspoken yeah exactly, because it doesn't make any god damn possible sense, does it? He knows about Peggy, knows she survived the war, knows she was still alive for a while after he came back to reality. Even stopped in to see her once, from a distance. She never saw him back, of course, he'd been scrambled and questionably sane at the time, but he needed some kind of proof that the past was real. She was one of two people on the planet he knew of, and the other he was actively dodging.

He'd seen her, old, kind, grey. Late in life and sunsetting. Not like this.

At her question, that pissed off bitch-face slides back on. It's the thin and disgruntled press of lips, the annoyed slit to his eyes.

"No. I woke up here, wearing this-" He gestures vaguely to the stupid fucking visor. "If I try and leave the kiosk, weird stuff starts happening. So. Here I am. Serving ice cream."

The winter soldier did not kill JFK for this shit.

[cryfrustration]

[In tandem, they push, and the planter moves. It moves with an ear-crunching screech that leaves dark scuffs and scratches on the floor, but it moves.

Getting it going is the hardest part. Once they've built a little momentum, keeping it going to get up to the doors isn't all that hard, and if they position it right, they can even block one whole set of double doors with it, tilting it a little and then hooking its rim right under the door handles so that either side of the door will be caught on it evenly if someone tries to force them.

It'll certainly keep out anything of human strength at least. As far as anything stronger, anything powerful enough to slice a human body in half like they've just seen? Well, who knows.

Slightly out of breath from the exertion, but feeling pretty satisfied overall, Vrenille gives his one eyed companion an inquiring look to see whether he seems pleased with their progress too.]

[freightcars]

You know what, actually, that little slide of the bottle earns Vrenille more of the Winter Soldier's favor than anyone else in this god damn mall right now. He's not so sure how it'll stack up to the serum in his veins, but since he's missing most of his strength, his healing, his speed? Maybe the one good tradeoff is he's not immune to booze anymore.

Wordlessly he takes the bottle, screws off the top, and grabs a jumbo-sized ice cream cup. Dumps a hell of a lot of booze in it with an almost comical-sounding glug, glug, glug... glug... glug... glug... that really... lasts much longer than it should.

But.

It's been a long day, right?

The bottle's nearly empty when he screws the top back on and passes it back. Fight him if you want, it's probably not worth it. He can't leave the dippin' dots stand, this has to last him until, you know, he fucking dies or something.

[freightcars]

If there's one person on the planet he's expecting less than Peggy Carter it's Tony Fucking Stark. Not because it's surprising Tony exists, not that it's wholly unbelievable that he's here, but what's really mind-blowing is that he's actually deigning to talk to Bucky. With actual human words. And those words aren't I'm going to kill you until you're dead or something snappier with a few pop culture references.

For a long second, all he can do is just. Stare. Like he's waiting for the follow-up, "so I can ram it into your eyeballs" or something. It doesn't come. His eyes narrow suspiciously, and rather than checking he feels the self-preserving need to ask, "Why? What're you plannin' to do with it?"

[freightcars]

Barnes levels her with the flattest, least impressed look he can muster. He can muster some really impressive ones, so it's actually kind of a treat how fucking done with the situation he looks. It's only because of the audible fear in her voice that he keeps from snapping at her, it's a subtle tone hidden behind her bluntness.

It's a coping mechanism, probably. God knows he's seen his fair share of those.

"Can't be everywhere at once," He mutters, rather than taking his ire out on her. "There're... probably three exits? Four?"

If it's here maybe they can leave out the back?

pathological

[crossbowhunting]

That's it? [It's not like Daryl needs chatter; he doesn't. It's just that when he was fighting his way across the mall -- with a now very bent and scarcely recognizable chair from outside the Panda Express in the food court -- toward the sporting goods store, he saw that head of blonde hair in the crowd and, well, priorities changed. Somehow, Beth keeps becoming the priority, no matter the situation. Particularly after he thought he lost her for good.]

Figured I'd at least get a 'hey' outta ya, Greene.

[unshielding]

Steve huffs out a humorless laugh. "Very funny." But when he catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, he shifts his arm into Bucky's reach and makes it easy for Bucky to find it. If he's honest, he'd been about to reach for Bucky, himself. Just because he can see Bucky doesn't mean he can easily believe that he's here. Not after he'd watched Bucky crumble away in front of him.

He knows he can't be seen, but he's interacted with the world around him just fine, so he hopes that means that Bucky's hand isn't about to go through him. He's not sure what he'll even do with himself if it does, but he hits a bump and his arm shakes and bumps Bucky's outstretched hand before he can agonize over the fear for too long.

"I'm here." He turns the wheel when he thinks he sees a streetlamp up ahead in the fog, keeping the car slow rolling. "Wherever here is. Maybe if we can get out of this fog, we'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with."

[nonstopnarcissist]

"I'll write you an IOU." He's him, he's loaded, eventually some kind of access to his money will comea around. "Or pay in trade."


Wait, shit, that was too ambiguous. He scrubs at his eyes, muttering. "You got a phone that's fucked up or something? Or, mp3 player or what the fuck ever. Tech, I deal in tech."

And shitty, shitty life choices like taking a roach from a strangely high woman in a mall surrounded by a murdermist when he's already a bottle of scotch, it feels, into a bad saturday night. Still. It is what it is, and he takes a long, slow drag like he learned nothing from the scotch situation.

[nonstopnarcissist]

"This is the face of a man that believes you." He tries for a smile that settles somewhere polite as the pain in his chest eases. So. This is his 'lover'.

God she looks like she's in college. Why is this his life? Relegated to role of cradlerobber. At least he just...needs to dote and keep her alive. He can manage that.

He thinks.

He hopes.

"Seriously, let me carry the box, tell me what we're doing." At least then he'll be present enough to haul them both out of danger if it rolls around.