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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Good to know. [ If they ever need a daredevil of that sort. You never know, right?

Cassian nods. ] The name of the game is connections, right? Make people assimilate, make them want to. Easiest way to do that is to create connections. Ties.

People remember living their whole lives here. Or a life that led them here.

[ For the teachers at the school, it's a regular obligation to go along with whatever new idea the PTA has to raise funds, boost morale, and just generally support the school. Luckily, that has yet to include anything with crazy or humiliating outfits. The bake sale is actually a good idea in Marie's mind, since it lets her get her mind of things she'd really rather not be thinking about, and she bakes up a storm for the French table.

She doesn't expect to see someone make off with a cellophane-wrapped pain au chocolat with paying. It's so out of place for what she knew (from real or false memories) about the town that she takes a moment to react, just staring at the retreating figure before asking one of her students to take over and hurrying after the man. Coming up beside him, she reaches out with a gloved hand to touch his arm before saying in a soft southern accent-- ]

Hey there, sugar, did you forget something?

"Then let's find you something better to carry them in."

He knows her type. He's recruited her type (for the Navy, his memories say, for the Navy). They take time and work, but they're worth it.

He balances the undamaged basket in her arms, and (attempts) to place the damaged one on her head like a crown before going over to the nearest table and buying a few different baked goods that won't get crushed easily - and getting separate plastic bags for each one.

He returns to Jyn and opens up the first bag, his purchases still inside. "Here, dump 'em in. I'm not taking them, the whole thing's yours."

[ A daredevil of his sort always comes in handy.

As Cassian talks, the ghosts of memories drift to the surface of Poe's mind -- far less certain than the ones he woke up with, just powerful enough to cause doubt. But they clash, they clash so violently with what he does know that it's impossible for him to reconcile the two. ]

And some of us remember it's Bantha fodder. Does the acronym 'NASA' mean anything to you?

Edited 2017-04-19 05:42 (UTC)

His lips quirk at the moving cupcake. Look, he baked it himself. He can hold onto a sense of pride that people enjoy his baking, bizarre situation be damned.

Still, her question reminds him that even though she does remember him she doesn't remember everything. He wonders what order things will come back to her in, how long it will take. If she'll hate him all over again.

"Not everyone gets to keep theirs, though. Or remember their names, or what they looked like." He raises his eyebrows. "Besides, it's a unique sort of responsibility, having family here."

[ He has to trust someone. He's hungry. Hungry is what he's always been though hasn't it? He's always hungry. Always starved. Deprived of something. He watches Randel closely as he takes bites of the food presented to him. Sipping the tea as well. Curtis nods and without another word he sits. He takes the bag first and puts it next to him. The drink is put down near his feet. It takes him a little time and effort to get the bag open with one hand, but he does it. Unwrapping the sandwich and taking a big bite. ]

[ He's bound to get caught. He sticks out like a sore thumb. He's an adult male with no kid by his side. But that's not truly the kicker. It's the way Curtis carries himself. He doesn't fit in and he knows it. He's never fit in. He's a shoe in a sea full of hats. He understands that. But still despite knowing he'd get caught he doesn't actually know what to do when it happens.

Curtis tenses up hard. His eyes fill with panic and for half a second he just stares at Rogue. Trying to decide what he's supposed to do here. He can't run. Too many people. He doesn't want to be hostile. She's just doing her job. There's no reason to be angry. ]

Um. [ He looks down and then up. ] I don't. I don't have any money. I'm sorry.

[ Cassian blinks and then? He laughs.

Congratulations, Poe. You've just helped Cassian convince himself he is not as likely to go insane as he originally thought. ]

A lot less than the word "Bantha", to be honest.

Murderously hilarious.

[ It's easy to bullshit like this. ]

Guess so. People act like I'm not, but it's hard to say. Feels like it. But it could be the memory gaps.

Well.

They may not be here, whatever they are. First of all you have to take care of yourself, right?

[ Instinct is what drives him when he feels eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck prick up. Clint's always been good at this. Seeing people. Finding them in the crowds. Picking them out. She's fairly simple. She's not trying to hide. She makes it easy on him. She pops into frame and stays. Leading him into running through where he could possibly know her.

Everything clicks in and out of place. Just barely. She's there in the corner of his mind. An itch that he can't quite scratch. Impossible to ignore, but he doesn't think he wants to. ]

Do we know each other? [ It's best to get it out of the way. Staring this long is gonna get uncomfortable if he doesn't use his words. ]

[ All right, something funny, sure. At least the guy can laugh. Poe was starting to wonder.

He does smile a little in return - it's automatic, really. He finally powers down and dismounts the bike, sitting on it sidesaddle instead of like he's about to drive off at any given moment.]

It's where they want me to think I worked. Something about exploring space, but what I'm remembering isn't anywhere close to an X-wing. How do they expect something like that to stick?

[ The look in his eyes is what gets to her, that panic that she recognizes from so many of the kids she'd helped get off the street by offering them a place at Xavier's. It doesn't matter that he's an adult, that helplessness is still the same. And it doesn't matter that it's been seventeen years since she felt it herself, she can still taste the fear and desperation at the back of her tongue.

Looking him over, it takes her two seconds to decide what to do. She gives the man a gentle smile and moves her hand to his back, just a light touch meant to offer reassurance. ]

It's alright, sugar, I understand. I've been in that position myself. Come on inside with me? I've got some leftovers from my baking frenzy that you can have.

[Even if Alec's memory is still missing a few events, there's no way that he'd every forget his sister. Her name had eluded him for days but he'd remembered the sister who had supported him and had been so happy over his relationship with Izzy.

Although it'd taken time, her name and a few important traits had settled in his mind. One of those key details had been to avoid Izzy's cooking at all costs. Unless she was about to inflict it on someone else.

Picking up one of the muffins, Alec manages not to wince when he realizes how heavy it is and that it's more than slightly charred around the edges.]

I don't think we have a rink, but I could use them for throwing muffins. That could help with my training

[If he could remember what exactly he's training for.]

[ He should try to speak to the authorities here, but Curtis has a natural distrust of them. He doesn't trust people with that sort of power. They almost always abuse it. They put you under their boot heel and they grind until you're nothing. How does he know the people here won't do the same thing? Every sign he sees keeps telling him to enjoy his stay. Don't leave. It all just feels wrong to him. Like he's drowning on land.

Part of him does appreciate the help, but the deeper part is afraid. Worried that maybe the state he's in might paint the picture of pity. One arm. Ratty clothes. Stealing a dessert. Not exactly his finest moment, but he's pretty sure he's not allotted those. Moments of looking and acting a bit more like a normal person.

Declining would be easy. Simply for pride alone. But Curtis doesn't. Instead he swallows down the little pride he has left and nods. ] Okay. [ He holds out his hand to give back what he took. ] Thank you.

Are you planning to offer any compensation for that, or am I supposed to be excited by the mere prospect of re-paneling a shed?

[ He's exactly this rude at school, too. ]

ONE
Merlin wasn't really sure how long it had been since the accident. He had been out of the hospital for only a few days now, but he had been banged up pretty good, and his memories of exactly how long the stay had been were... fuzzy. And everything else as well.

He had a few very sharp memories in his head, things he knew to be true, but not most of the rest of his life, either in specific, or in general. It felt like, well, he was waiting for his mind to come back from vacation. And it was taking it's time. Why did his hands twitch just so, sometimes? Why did he seem to catch a glint of gold in his eyes, now and then? Why did things seem to happen around him when he really wanted them to? And how did it all tie together somehow like his mind kept trying to insist?

As he wandered down the street, looking around, he felt a sense of peace. Surely his memories would come back when they were supposed to, right? Right. Even if a small nagging voice told him there was something oh so wrong about all of this. It was probably nothing, after all. He should go get some ice cream. Yeah.

TWO

The scream sent Merlin running. He wasn't even aware of what had set him to running for the first few steps, just that something, deep within him, told him to run. And it was only as he was really bearing down into a fast and hard run that he realized his instinct had been to run toward the scream, instead of away from it. Which realization made his run falter for a moment, and his labored breathing catch up with him as he tripped over a log and went down, face first.

It was then that he realized he had been running for awhile, and that he had no idea where he was, other than in the woods... somewhere. He looked around, looking for answers, clues, and anything to tell him what had gone on, but he saw nothing, not at all.

What was going on here? Why had someone screamed? And more importantly, why had he run toward it? He was a simple maintenance man, not a cop! What was going on?

THREE

The bake sale had drawn Merlin to it like honey drew bees, and he smiled as he approached the many covered tables, eyes wide and mouth watering. He worked maintenance and knew a lot of the people who were holding sway over those tables. He had, after all, fixed things around most of them, since he got out of school.

The sheer amount of delicious baked goods on sale looked pretty and intensely overwhelming. And he knew, without a doubt, that he could totally blow an entire paycheck here. And his paychecks weren't small!

FOUR

SN: The Wizard

Okay, who was it who made the deep fudge brownie cakes for the bake sale, and what do I have to do to get more of them? I've been jonesing for them since I ran out of the plateful I bought at the sale, and I think I need more.

Be a saint, take pity on this poor maintenance man, and admit to your glorious works so I can come beg or buy more of them from you.

Edited 2017-04-19 08:20 (UTC)

[That feeling of familiarity is there for him, too (or, at least it is once Kyle gets a better look at him). It's not just his facial features or body structure, it's his... everything. He just has this air of familiarity to him.

The problem is, Kyle's not sure if he can trust it. A lot of things about this place felt familiar, and he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to. But he couldn't know for sure.

He looks at him, and he blinks. Right. Is he okay?]

Oh, yeah. Sure. [He scratches at his neck awkwardly.] I've had worse spills. You?

Yes but I don't know who that is and I have no reference for their work. I don't know why they'd bring more or the others here.

[Ah yes, Mr. Maximoff. Who would expect any less?]

You would be fairly compensated for your time, supplies would be provided and I will even assist. I'll even provide lunch or breakfast at your choice.

"Isn't it a unique responsibility having family anywhere?" she offers patiently, eyebrows lifting as if to say don't be dramatic. She likes to think she knows Cassian well enough because they're friends... from work. Work she doesn't currently recall. She shakes her head, brushing it off dismissively.

"Don't mind me, there was a... some sort of accident, I guess, I don't remember. Hit my head, now my brain's gone all wonky." Pushing her hair back, she reveals one of the scrapes on her forehead covered by her bangs. "Everything is sort of fuzzy, sorry."

Which is upsetting for her personally because she is used to being clever and quick and resourceful and now she's forgotten what a petting zoo is and couldn't find her apartment and all her milk is expired so she's had to use lemon in her tea because she didn't have honey either. She decides, at least, that they are definitely friends because she wouldn't have explained that to anyone else at all otherwise.

option 1

Screeching, twisting metal. A scream. And then darkness.

That is all Carl remembered. He doesn't know why he's here, but he remembered some things. He remembers he had a rifle, ready to ambush someone in revenge for Glenn and Abraham. But it's not here in the hospital, so its clearly been confiscated. Either way, the hospital had been clearly been low on security, for he was able to sneak his way out of there after obtaining his clothes back. This whole town reminds Carl a little of Alexandria, but only because the cleanliness is comparable, although the grass hasn't grown like it had in Alexandria.

Compared to perhaps most newcomers, Carl is a little standoffish, lips pursed as he tries to understand just what the hell is going on. His one eye (the other covered in a bandage) narrows when pointed to the sign.

He needs to get out of here. He can't remember everything, but he distrust this place, and he needs to get out. But first, he's going to the house he's assigned in. Maybe find something useful. But there's a possibility that it's a trap as well. So he's stuck - until he sees someone close to him.

"Hey, do you know where this house is?" He shows the address of his new home, in a crumbled piece of paper. When in doubt, get a buddy.

option 2

He was right in not trusting this place. Carl heard the scream and when he asked the natives about it, they either pretend they didn't hear it, or they not-really-discreetly press him to forget about it. Frustrated already, he stalked off. He's not going out in the woods to leave this place without some supplies, however. He's went back to his home and grabbed everything he could carry - the knives (he couldn't get to any guns, which he preferred to have), the food, rope, anything that he might needed on the road ahead, stuffed in a small backpack that he bought on the cheap.

He entered the woods, and already he felt comforted by the familiarity. He may not remember everything, but he remembered this.

He heard a crack of a broken twig close by, and he flattened himself against the tree. Carl hold his breath, sheathing the knife hidden from the tail end of his shirt.

Edited 2017-04-19 14:50 (UTC)

In the eyes of Brock Rumlow, boxing coach, it felt odd to have a relative stranger treating him like an old friend, but as a man who knew there was a life before Wayward Pines, he welcomed it. He wasn't sure what training the local kids would do for SHIELD, but who was he to argue with Alexander Pierce? Plus, the idea of more funding was always nice. Rumlow was hardly motivated by monetary gains, but being able to afford more employees meant he could portion off his time otherwise spent at work on figuring out this damn town.

"Sure," he said simply. And Rumlow was certain, now that he'd given consent, that it would be done. Pierce was a man who made things happen, and that wasn't likely to lessen just because he was some school adviser or whatever.

"Just tell me what you need," he added, staring Pierce in the face with an unsettling amount of resolve. That unknown connection grew deeper the more they spoke, though Rumlow was still at a loss as to what gave it its intensity. He was never one to buck instincts, however and much like Pierce, he accepted it at face value.

[The blink is pretty much the only thing that Izzy can manage to do as he picks up one of her muffins (if you can call them that...because a part of her still feels like she can't honestly call them that considering their current state). She's not in much of a denial at the moment, despite knowing that if she tries hard enough she can cook something that doesn't turn out like this, she just knows that he should not...under any circumstances actually eat that muffin.

So, there's a relief that he doesn't do more than hold it.]

They might make a pretty good weapon. [Izzy says that with a bit of a charming smile pulling at her lips and a shrug pulling upward on her shoulders.] They look like they could do some damage....I'm not sure where I went wrong. I'm pretty sure that my cooking isn't normally this bad, though.

[She hopes, anyway. Though, she isn't sure why she feels the need to give the bit of defense toward her culinary abilities. Maybe it's just...a thing with her? The petite woman muses for all of a moment, doing her best not to linger too long before focusing because she feels like there's something....that she's missing right in front of her. And it's an annoying feeling that irritates her more than a little.]

What are you training for?

I might be able to help. What do you need exactly?

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