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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[If she expects him to stop making awful jokes, she's in for a surprise. But it might be nice if she does decide to come to the gym -- even if she doesn't take classes, she's welcome to work out. Kenzi would be glad to see another lady there, might even inspire her to do a little boxing of her own.]

Always. And about a year or so. Came here after separating from the military.

[Best to go with the cover story for now. It's not exactly difficult for Rumlow to lie, just rolls off his tongue without even the slightest hesitation. Part of him wonders if that's just because there's something in him convinced it's real.]

You?

• PTA BAKE SALE.

You call this a bake sale… this is kid stuff… [ justin crinkled his nose as he looked over the spread of sweets laid out on each table. brownies, cookies, and donuts. pft. he could bake circles around these little brats and soccer moms… assuming, of course, he cared to. but he didn’t. he had nothing to prove to them. ]

… [ as he passed a lackluster tray of candies he slowed to a stop, a couple of women gossiping and, well, he just couldn’t help himself. ] Linda’s blondies aren’t as good as she thinks and, y’know, [ he jerked his head in her direction. ] I heard they’re store bought. [ blowing out a sigh he shook his head. ] Here I thought she was better than that. But, hey, [ he chortled. ] I guess I’ll have to show her how it’s done.

[ as they started cooing over the fact that he could bake his smile broadened. feel free to call him out on his shit. ]

• ON THE NETWORK.

un: itshammertime.

This laptop is in dire need of an upgrade. It’s from, like, the stone age and, to be honest, I’m a little insulted that this is what they’re handing out. But, hey, listen… I’m about to do all of you a favor. A big favor. You just happen to now know a technical marvel, so as soon as I’m finished fixing this hunk of junk if you stop by my shop I’ll take a look at yours too.

[ One of the most troubling things about his senses is that when something gets under his skin, he can't help but keep paying attention to it. It's become clear to him, memories aside, that he's not one to leave well enough alone if he can do something about it. And when the jackass finally decides to open himself up for a challenge, Kal's there like he was summoned by fate itself, walking over with a warm (but oh yeah, he's got your number) smile and a curious (this should be fun) sort of tilt to his head. ]

I was actually talking to Linda about the brownies a few days ago. We were discussing the butter ratio, since she's been thinking of trying something a little different.

So I'm curious. What's your recipe like, if you don't mind me asking?

"There's no such thing as 'too nice'," he says with a sip of his drink as he works on finishing his pie. "But I'll take the compliment for what it's worth. You're pretty nice yourself, though."

toward growing a thicker skin, yeah. so i guess if this is your way of teaching me to fear performing elton john or whatever the hell you've got in store in front of a bunch of drunks instead of death, then mission accomplished. glad to see someone's looking out for me here.

[ and though he should have seen something like this coming he didn’t actually expect somebody ~~to have the balls~~ to call him out on his, uh, little whie lie. still, he didn’t falter and, instead, continued to smile even as he turned to face kal. ]

[ justin could already hear the ladies whispering amongst themselves about the wild accusations and bullshit he was sputtering, which, quite frankly, pissed him off. what gave this jerk the right to spoil his fun! ]

oh Yeah, well, maybe they’ll actually be half decent this time around. [ he snickered, casting a glance back at his lady friends for affirmation, but they weren’t having any of it. fantastic. mr. tall, grey, and noisy has ruined everything. ]

I have a recipe, a great recipe, my grandmother’s recipe, in fact, [ he swallowed, not sure how much longer he could keep up this charade. ] but I can’t talk family secrets, I’m afraid. Don’t want dear old grandma rolling in her grave. But, hey, listen, next bake sale I’ll be all over it. I’ll make some brownies that’ll really blow your mind. [ and hopefully some panties off. women love chocolate, right? ]

[Like a train, that's the most optimistic impression that can be gleamed from the caustic look Bigby throws in Dutch's direction. Not that he's truly upset with her or anything; nasty as all of this is, he hasn't reached the point where he's willing or ready to take shit out on innocent bystanders.]

I think it would've fried me too if I'd gotten any closer. [Getting to his feet is a wobbly affair, but taking it slow and easy helps. Sort of. Trying to move with cinder blocks tied to his legs would've been easier.] The thing's...wired. On top of being hexed.

[The word slips out before he even knows what he's saying, like it's an instinctive assumption. Out of the handful of memories that's surfaced during his short time here, the knowledge that magic exists has been one of the hardest to grapple with. Not because it's unbelievable, but because being in a place so starved of it, so barren, feels incredibly alien. It's like being dropped in a desert after years of living in a jungle.]

Did you see the sign?

Sure. I'll see you then!

[ she gets to the school a little early to look around, because she should be in school, right, but... she doesn't remember attending and the place is anything but familiar. ]

At least now we know where we stand. [Digging his fingers into the bark, feeling sharp, fresh pain below his nails, feels so much better than the fatigue, lingering as it is. It's like being jolted awake after a particularly long, restless nap, which is exactly what would've happened to him had he stayed in front of that fence for any longer. It's a disquieting thought, and his own barely repressed grimace reflects that.] Having everything constantly flip-flopping between a resort and a prison really messes with your equilibrium.

[Same with seeing normal people for days and then a fully armored warrior from out of nowhere. Bigby returns her scrutiny with his own, lifting a brow to acknowledge her quiet curiosity. yeah, hi.]

I saw tracks about a mile back. Still fresh, too. I thought if I went a little further I'd find a body, but not... [He waves the back of his hand in the direction of the wall.] ...this.

Admonishing eyes he certainly received. It was weird to think of the Salvatore brothers owning an auto shop; one of the many strange things she was having to get used to in this town, including the rules that Damon liked to flout. Elena didn't approve of that one bit, especially when he tended to do it so publicly.

"Are you trying to make me concerned, Damon?" she questioned as they neared the bustle of the bake sale. "I know my husband's well liked in this town, but I'm not worried about his fidelity." For so many reasons.

Eliot, meanwhile, has discovered he apparently bartends? Or. However any of this works, which he's currently very effectively managing not to think about, on the grounds that it makes his brain hurt and also detracts from the fact that, bales of unbelievably weird shit or no bales of unbelievably weird shit, his little sojourn into Pleasantville means he is far away from actual shit. As in seeing to it spread on crops, as in all the responsibility, ugh, that much to his offense comes with being High King of a place that has never heard of fertilizer.

The point is, no one cares if just occasionally (daily) he nips off with a bottle of something strong enough to guarantee he continues not to think too hard about any of this, ergo: he is, conveniently, in search of Margo, and arrives in time to watch this adorable (to...him) display of the lady in question, uh. Being herself.

He appears magically next to her (or he has miles of leg and thus only needs two steps) and offers his arm for linkage, bottle dangling precariously from his other hand.

"Now, now, Bambi." With approximately seven hundred times the melodrama it deserves. "Mustn't put too much Fear of the Destroyer into the locals. All things in moderation, as they say."

As they who are objectively wrong say, his expression suggests. Lolingly.

Edited 2017-04-22 17:54 (UTC)

[ Kal gives the ladies a faintly sympathetic smile before turning his attention back to Justin.

Unfortunately, given his lack of memory, he doesn't know why this kind of nonsense bothers him so much, or even where the strange little sliver of vindictiveness comes from when it comes to someone so obviously full of it... eventually, he'll remember Smallville bakeoffs and his time as a reporter, but for right now, he's just flying on autopilot. ]

I'll make sure to check next time around. I'm always curious to try someone's family recipes. Now... what was your name again?

[ There's a glance at a few of the tables. ]

Even if you didn't make brownies this time, I'm sure whatever you brought must be delicious. I'd like to give it a shot, maybe help you out with your sales. So which table was yours?

You do that. I’ll make a special batch just for you and then you can rant and rave about how absolutely amazing they are. [ cool it, justin, he might not be able to handle you at your best. ]

[ he grins, offering kal a hand. ] Justin, Justin Hammer. [ and it would have been a pleasure if you hadn’t burst my bubble. ] Nice to meet you.

[ when his new ‘ friend ’starts glancing around he frowns, but he recovers quickly, quirking his head with a laugh. ] Nothing this time. Short notice and all. [ he waves his hand flippantly. ] I came to sample the sweets, scope out the competition, and give back to the community. [ he flashes a smile, one that’s hardly sincere. ] How about you, hn, you got a table?

Nyx, that is not a reassuring way to describe your friend.

But either way, Will was quite certain that there was much more to the situation than he knew.

"I expect different methods work best for different people." he says at last.

Of course, who else would it be? It's certainly better than a signature, don't you think?

"Well, considering we are a school, darling, I'm afraid we have to go nutless here. It's a terribly sacrifice that we all need to make, but killing our students isn't something they allow for in our contracts." The bills were placed in the tupperware box with a grin before she leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. "But if you want nuts, I'll bake you some and give it to you off school grounds."

You remember the part about people definitely watching this network?

What about those helpful notices posted around town?

Poe grunts, a noise of understanding and disgust.

He joins Nyx by the maybe-prints, watching the other man look them over. He's no tracker. It's all dirt to him. "So what makes it dangerous?"

Nyx isn't exactly a tracker either. He can recognize a scuffle, but if whatever had screamed had been here...he can't make heads or tails of where it had went. His frustration is clear.

"They make you believe that you belong here. They make you want it."

I'm not ungrateful. I just don't want holes in my metal horse. She's sensitive.

[ He pats the handlebars. ] That your species? Oni?

Poe doesn't mean to be derisive. He laughs, sharply, once, and then coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, not happening." He's a starfighter pilot. Why would he ever want to be stuck in a place with high walls and no wings? "What d'you see?"

"You know," the words came with a smile, even as Leia held the clipboard in her hands that contained things like sale totals and prices. She was taking a moment not to be the Vice-Principal and be in charge of things for the moment; Han tended to have that effect on her if she let him.

She let him more often that she probably should in her opinion, but it wasn't as if the fate of the universe depended on her being focused on a bake sale for crying out loud. This time at least.

"You'd probably sell more cupcakes if you didn't look like you'd like you'd tell whoever was coming to buy them that you wanted them to get off your lawn." The words lacked heat, and it seemed like it was a conversation (or a strand of conversation) that Leia had had with her husband more than once. Or more than a hundred times, perhaps, but it was something that never really seemed to get old. At least not yet.

That's a damn shame.

But no need to make a fuss for just me. What I'd love is if you'd promise a tray of them for the fireman's fundraiser in a month or so.

[ He takes the hand and it's a very gentle shake, the strength in those hands clear enough without him needing to prove anything. ]

And the name's Kal. Kal Kent. It's a pleasure.

[ He tips his head back to a table being manned by a kid in fireman's overalls with a couple of helmets on either side. It's clear enough that there'd been more there previously but there's a couple of boxes still lingering. Not many though. ]

If you're a pie man, we've got a table over that way. I think there's at least one blueberry and of course, an apple that could be all yours.

I don't require assistance.

[ Food, though, he'll conspicuously neglect to turn down. ]

My rate is $8 per hour, plus materials as needed.

"I walked home one morning last month, met a woman I'd never seen before, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was my sister." His tone is flat and doesn't even come close to covering just what that meant to him, personally. He still has that connection. They had sat, and talked, and reminisced. "I remember watching her grow up."

He flicks his fingers against some partially crushed foliage, then pushes the leaves out of the way to give Poe a clear view of the dirt. It's largely unhelpful, but that mark next to the flattened area could be the treads of a boot. Unfortunately it's the only one, and Nyx stands up after a moment of looking around. "Something probably landed here, but there's no blood. Nothing to say where it went."

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