bumfuckidaho | TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

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TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

TEST DRIVE MEME

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed – the nursing staff greets you with a cheerful smile.

Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

option one
WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES

The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.

That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.

Unless you're asking for directions out of town, of course.

Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest sign posted near the doorway of every building.

Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while before looping around and bringing you right back in.

There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.

(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)

option two
INTO THE WOODS

You've just heard a scream from the woods.

I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully... human.

Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.

The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.

Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.

What you will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.

In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.

Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?

option three
PTA BAKE SALE

It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The school PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.

There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined, not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more... unique palates.

Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or maybe you were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today and why wouldn't they? Children are our future, aren't they? Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.

Yeah, that's probably it.

option four
ON THE NETWORK

Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), but Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.

Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network currently has two basic functions. The first is audio-only and can be accessed from the telephones in each character's home. If an audio-based medium doesn't suit your needs (or aesthetics), be sure to take advantage of the Wayward Pines Message Board from your brand new laptop for the chance to communicate with your fellow townspeople in a text-based format instead!

( a few notes )

Welcome to our third test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note:

Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.

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option one: welcome to wayward pines

[ He wakes up.

Some part of him thinks he shouldn't wake up. Some part of him is angry that he's woken up, though a bit of thoughtful examination is unhelpful in determining why that is. But now that he is up, he looks around, looks down at his bandages and his wounds and frowns at them, as they are as unfamiliar as everything else. He takes a moment to take stock otherwise, of his body, his mind, and after a moment he reaches his hand out to call one of his weapons to hand (he remembers those, feels them like an extension of himself) but the whole thing is interrupted by a nurse. Smoothly, as if he'd merely been stretching, he draws his arm back and then it's just a matter of playing the ever patient patient to get her to leave.

Not here. Which is where he'd prefer to be.

It's a simple enough matter to sneak out, and his trip to the sheriff's station and thankfully, they hand over his things without much fuss at all. The suit and the coat feel like he's putting his skin back into place. The hat, well: somehow, despite remembering so little, he can say with the utmost confidence that he feels like himself again.

The umbrella is simply a nice addition, and he's glad to have it.

Which leaves him with the town before him, a main street he hardly knows and shops he determines he'll soon learn. After all, it's a beautiful day for a stroll... ]

option three: pta bakesale

[ Is there anything more delightful than a beautiful day scented with pastries and filled to the brim with the denizen of their wonderful little town?

Yes. Ardyn would say there definitely is, and it mostly involves a large number of corpses, but no one asked him. Well, other than the narration and that doesn't count.

All the same, he can't say he doesn't enjoy the pastries at the very least, and given the funds at his disposal, he is allowing himself to indulge. Though he's amusing himself a game of it, charming the various mothers to see if he can start a fight or at the very least a long running cold war-like feud.

So sue him. It's amusing. ]

option four: network

If you had to pick your favorite part about this town, what would it be? I'm just curious,
of course. No pressure.

Edited 2017-04-18 16:09 (UTC)

More fun for them to think they can put us in trouble! Welcome to the club then. Leave any and all crying babies at home!

Han's been sentenced to manning the Solos' table for the bake sale (Leia's too busy, or maybe this is payback for their latest disagreement), and he's doing his best to keep all human interaction to a minimum. Hard to do when people insist on stopping and making a bunch of small talk about the weather and their kids and the state of their lawns.

He swears, one day he's gonna be able to convince Leia to just jump in the car with him and Chewie (their faithful shaggy dog) and hightail it outta this town. Ben's an adult now, anyway.

In the meantime, he's just intoning a string of gruff "uh huh"s at the folks trying to talk to him, his interest thoroughly checked out until he hears some kid babbling about accidents and hospitals. That's when Han looks up, squinting in recognition-- different from the recognition he gets from other people in town. This is on a deeper level, like with Leia and Ben...

"Hey. Take it easy, Big Deal."

For some reason, the nickname comes to him before the kid's actual name: Finn.

There would be eyes and ears everywhere, particularly in a crowded place such as this, but if their conversation was so important, it was likely at its most private out in the open like this. In his house, in the school, he was given the impression that someone could be watching at all times, which actually amused him and he had no idea why. Like it was a tactic he might use.

Here in plain sight, they could observe anyone who was also doing the same to them. As it was, he already raised his hand to greet his next door neighbour who was crossing the field to head home he assumed. Nothing to see here, just two fellow men having a quiet conversation together. It happened all the time; he made certain that he was extremely social with all people so that moments like these were not out of the norm for him.

His eyes flicked to observe the man in front of him, and yes, there definitely was a sense that they had a deeper connection even if he had no memories to back that up. He easily picked out details that pertained to a domestic life. "A wife, I suppose? My Gloria was much the same when it came to sweets. I used to tease her."

The name had him pondering quietly; that did ring a bell for certain. "I entrusted you with something very important," he remarked quietly, then closed his eyes to review all of his known memories. "You are an efficient man, well-earning my regard for you."

He stepped around so that he was facing this odd entity which should register more strongly than an impression, shouldn't it? "Something isn't right with this place. It's stolen something from me," he said quietly, as if he could trust the man standing before. "But I will be taking something from it in return."

Edited 2017-04-18 16:18 (UTC)

That won't be a problem. See you later.

the big THREE-OH!

awwww compliment me some more and i'm yours~

There definitely were some faces that he knew better than others, some parents that stood out above the rest. Mr. Solo happened to be one of those parents, mostly due the fact the man had produced quite the troublesome young man who Alexander had taken a personal interest in when the boy had been a daily presence to his office. Brilliant lad with too much temper, but he didn't think that it was being directed appropriately.

And Han himself came across as a used up rebel, resenting the rules and disliking the hierarchy of things. If the man wasn't all flare and complaints, he might have actually put a bit more time with Han himself. As it was, he had no issue with the man. He could see where Kyle achieved such brilliance, if slightly wayward ideas.

He made his rounds all the same, smile on his face as he shook each person's hand and thanked them for their presence. Certain people earned a bit more than a cordial greeting, of course. He did enjoy needling at Han just to see how the man would react, but it was always subtle.

"Good day to you, Han. I hope you managed to find something sweet for yourself." You could use some sweetening.

Always knew you were cheap and easy.

[Enis wanders through the tables of baked treats like a lost tourist in New York city. A few the site light up her deep blue eyes but her expression otherwise looks confused and lost.

Her fingers tug at the pocket of her jeans as she makes the conclusion that she should just get back to work. Enis has never been good around teens, despite the fact that her own features were cherubic in their very nature.

Enis spots Ardyn but gives him no mind. Another middle-aged man trying to flirt with mothers. It isn't until she sees him flashing his charming smile at several different women that she walks up to him, her gaze curious and thoughtful.]

You're just a dick aren't you.

[Her voice is cool and logical, stating the sentence more as a fact that a question.]

[ Immediately, Jefferson shakes his head, balking at the idea that he's local here or, well, anywhere. It doesn't fit with his memories, with that pervasive feeling of being an outsider. ]

I'm not from around here. [ Said with just enough bitterness in his voice to indicate that he's an outsider, feels like one, and is likely reminded of it fairly regularly (whether by others or his own mind). ] But I do have coffee. [ He forces a smile, trying to shove aside those nagging feelings of alienation. ] I recommend the tea, though. [ IT BEING A TEA SHOP AND ALL. ]

OOOH YEAH! keep talking dirty to me, pete!

There was a brief nod of acknowledgement at the mention of his wife, but Rumlow was focused more on the topic of their past involvement rather than the small talk. Thankfully, Pierce seemed to be on the same page. He remembered. And the more he talked, the more Rumlow realized he did know more than he did -- vague, certainly, but it spoke of a relationship far deeper than someone who simply worked beneath Pierce.

Rumlow nodded, as if convincing himself of Pierce's words as absolute truth. Then he voiced the exact words that Rumlow felt encroaching upon his thoughts at night. His eyes lit up and he felt himself tense in anticipation, though for what, he didn't know.

"Your memories," Rumlow said softly. "Your power."

Not that Pierce should be preoccupied with the latter, this was the man that denied a Nobel Peace Prize. And yet, Rumlow got a very distinct impression that Pierce being away from SHIELD was Bad with a capital B. Of course though, he corrected himself. He was a councilman. He held an important seat. But still, the word rang through his head. Power.

Some day you're going to settle down with some nice gent and regret it. Stick with me, and we won't ever have to grow up to that boredom!

Elena had been given the assignment of 'covering' the bake sale for the local Wayward Pines newspaper which meant that she had to walk around and make sure she asked everyone the appropriate questions. It wasn't so bad, she snacked along the way, internally telling herself it was for research purposes only.

When she spotted Han her eyebrows rose, an entertained smile playing across the delicate curve of her lips. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here. Cupcakes got you down or is it something else?"

She tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear while pulling the small pad of paper from her pocket. All notes helped.

"Cook too," he says with another sip of tea, "not to mention I know my way around home repair."

He can't help a smile over at her and he's not quite flirting, but he's certainly got a bit of playfulness in those too-blue eyes.

"It's like a triple threat, without having to learn to dance."

His memories, yes definitely. When he looked at his chest at night thinking of the heart attack that had apparently dropped him, he couldn't help but rationalize that it was a bad diagnosis. There was something fundamentally removed from him. He could recall his wedding date, but he couldn't recall where they had gone on a honeymoon. He could recall that he had been principal for years and yet had no exact number in his head but a vague impression of years going by and students passing from his guidance.

His power seemed a bit more of a canker sore, a point that his mind was continually drawn to as his tongue might. He had been somewhere important, doing something important for the entire world - not just this place - but the details of which were not there. He recalled Bogota, but never anything more than the raid about it except that his daughter had been part of it and he had been impressed with his friend's actions.

"Power can be regained if given the right position to work from," he murmured softly. "Change is needed, is it not? We, you and I, are the force of change, Rumlow. That can't be taken away."

Convenient. [She grins, risking tripping over something as they walk just to stare at that stupid smile.]

Were you named after the writer? Because if so, that's cool as fuck. Oh, right, coffee! Coffee is like a hug in a cup that keeps you awake so you can continue making terrible choices well after you should have tired yourself out and it's basically a necessity in the morning to be able to function and also it's always better with sugar.

[Kenzi, this is too many words at once.]

[Her name feels familiar too. Makes him think of Peggy Carter, whom he recalls from the annals of SHIELD's history and the SSR. Maybe they're related? Well, he's not going to ask that. It's a long shot anyway. Plenty of Carters in the world.

He shakes her hand and notes the grip. Likes punching things, hunh? That's evident. He flashes her a smile. Could be she has gone to his classes before, if that's the only place he actively recalls her. He can't press here, as much curiosity as he has to follow the thread of recognition.]

Yeah? Well, we got plenty of space for that, if you're ever in the mood to swing by.

[Get it? Swing? Punch? All right, he's terrible. They just come to him and he can't stop.]

[ Poe has a soft spot for outsiders. Not a conscious one, but it's definitely there. The need to connect them to something, to make them feel like they belong as much as he always has. Even after he lost his mom, he always had family.

And there's something he didn't remember, returned so casually it almost takes his breath away.

He doesn't quite look at Jefferson, still maintaining the facade of relaxation. ] Seems like a lot of us aren't from around here.

[ And there, an excuse to actually look away, up toward that taunting blue sky. ] Me, I'm from up there.

The writer? [ He frowns, searching for any recollection of where the name is from. ] No idea--

[ He trails off as she keeps going, and going, and going. There's something delightful about her unselfconscious rambling. He waits, just a moment, to make sure she's done before he speaks. ] Force only knows I like making terrible choices.

Edited 2017-04-18 17:18 (UTC)

The more he listened, the more Rumlow was convinced. This was a man who had a way with words, but he had known that. Even if this connection between them was obscured, the context was starting to form. There was this instinctual trust he felt for Pierce. One that went beyond the typical professional relationship between an organizational leader and its member.

"And here I was, thinkin' I was just some coach at a boxing gym," he remarked dryly. In spite of his sarcasm, Rumlow really was inspired, though he had no idea what what to do with it. Were they trying to fulfill a deep cover operation on this town -- was whatever entity running this place against SHIELD? Were they the ones infiltrating and capturing agents? Why else would Pierce be here, otherwise. He wasn't an operative, he was administrative. Strategic, not tactical.

How deep did this rabbit hole go?

Poe picks up and starts idly shredding a leaf, quietly amused at the fact that they're both still sitting in the dirt.

"Probably. If this field goes all the way up? No telling what it would do to someone in the air."

There was a sense of wrong in this place, with some of the people here, and it nagged at him enough that he was determined to see to the bottom of the oddities. Not only that, but for some reason, there was an agenda, a need to start to build something big and beautiful from little more than a seed. He was in position to do that, and for some reason, it felt as if he had been doing it all along.

And Rumlow... this was a man that could be a compliment to his own skills. It felt as if they had worked together before, had planned, carried out and succeeded before, though how and when and why were unclear to him.

There was such a familiarity there that he reached out and clapped Rumlow on the shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. "You are more than that," he replied with a warm smile that bore confidence and assurances. "But your gym is something I would like to try some of my more... wayward pupils in. How do you feel of training children who need to know the value of work, discipline, and structure? As you might imagine, the strict classroom structure isn't for all children, and I was considering a program with a more physical aspect for some. There would be funding, of course."

[ Jefferson follows Poe's gaze upwards, a smile tugging at his features. Of course, it could mean a number of things, joking, impossible, or completely serious. But he likes to believe that it's possible that Poe's really from up there.

It might make him feel less... mad, after all. ]

Oh? So you're a starman waiting in the sky? [ He looks at Poe, smirking teasingly, his voice playful and a just a little sing-song. ] You'd like to come and meet us, but you think you'd blow our minds?

[ Look, being trapped in a mansion with little-to-no contact with the outside world for 28 years (though it does and doesn't feel that long, and he knows he couldn't actually have spent that long in a mansion, given he's roughly 29 years old)... Jefferson's developed an affinity for music, what he could pick up on the radio, and what he had lying around the house. ]

Edited 2017-04-18 17:30 (UTC)

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