Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025
Test Drive ∞ May 2025
The First Collision
The Diadem is an invite-only panfandom game set in a retro-futuristic world where uprooted souls find themselves deep within an eerie wasteland of roads and highways frequently assailed by cosmic storms. Three united strongholds keep the population. Its capital is Panorama, a large metropolis at the planet's center.
Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Calling themselves fluxdrifts, the "locals" have similar stories to you, either for themselves or their ancestry. You speak to an old woman who claims she hailed from another star. You meet a young man who says his great-great-grandfather knew a strange language everybody spoke "back home." As you explore, you stumble across a coin you recognize or your sister's locket. How did it get here? What does this mean? That's for you to discover.
But first, you need to find a ride.
Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Calling themselves fluxdrifts, the "locals" have similar stories to you, either for themselves or their ancestry. You speak to an old woman who claims she hailed from another star. You meet a young man who says his great-great-grandfather knew a strange language everybody spoke "back home." As you explore, you stumble across a coin you recognize or your sister's locket. How did it get here? What does this mean? That's for you to discover.
But first, you need to find a ride.
No invites needed to play on the TDM. Everyone's welcome! Use the Invite Request thread below to request an invite from another player.
∞ Summary ∞
IC-wise, arrivals are scattered throughout the month. Events described on the TDM are also ongoing throughout the month. If you'd rather jump right into the action, you're free to begin in media res with your character having already been on the planet for several days.
Post-impact, characters will wake up in a med tent by the Scrapyard. From there, they must accept a vehicle on loan and make the 2-hour drive to the nearest city, Panorama. If they refuse the car because they don't want the loan, they'll be in debt for medical bills instead...so just take the car. It'll come in handy.
Some things to keep in mind when bringing in your character:
TDM threads can be canon if characters are accepted. Top-levels made to the TDM should be open to all.
Post-impact, characters will wake up in a med tent by the Scrapyard. From there, they must accept a vehicle on loan and make the 2-hour drive to the nearest city, Panorama. If they refuse the car because they don't want the loan, they'll be in debt for medical bills instead...so just take the car. It'll come in handy.
Some things to keep in mind when bringing in your character:
- Pick an injury. At minimum, they got knocked out; at most, whatever they can recover from. Medicine is decently advanced so they'll heal faster if not painlessly.
- Decide items kept. Reasonable items on their person only: photos, keys, clothes, costumes. No pets or animal companions. Wildly out-of-place tech and personal cell phones will be damaged beyond repair.
- Select a weapon. Do this only if eligible. Guidelines about weapons and powers are on the FAQ.
- Choose a vehicle. Decide whether your character gets 2-3 options or if they're stuck with something they hate. Players can pick directly from our collection or source their own images. Anything under a similar aesthetic will work. If your character needs accommodations for driving, they can have them. Ask us for details.
- Get a phone. Characters have to obtain a phone (and a SIM card) themselves. If they've got one from home, it's damaged beyond repair. Phones are cheap. It'll only take a couple of weeks to afford one. You need to know the number before you text or call anyone. Read about phones and the Forum before you hop on it.
TDM threads can be canon if characters are accepted. Top-levels made to the TDM should be open to all.
Fluxdrift
Arrival & Introduction
Date: Throughout May
You've tumbled over a cliff. You were fighting for your life. You're on the cusp of death. You slipped in the shower. Whatever the catalyst, you struggle to cling to consciousness. As darkness overtakes you, a swirling vortex warps light and shadow in a way that defies all physics. A dark wail etches into your very bones. You couldn't describe it if you tried. You can barely comprehend what it is.
Then you open your eyes.
Through the figure's mask ©, you swear the face is grinning down at you. The tent you're in smells of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets line your cot. Injuries you've sustained have been bandaged. In the corner, you spot a MedBot that's fixed you up. Depending on the extent of your injuries, the doctor on duty might give you some painkillers before you go. Thankfully, your belongings are by the exit. Sorry if anything's damaged. Your landing was pretty rough.
You follow the figure outside. They are Yom Crook, here to lend a hand to fellow fluxdrifts like yourself. Their car's parked beside them. Actually, there are lots of cars around, but Yom Crook's stands out with its painted shark mouth. They explain they found you, unconscious, in a diffusion zone and brought you here. The nearest city is a 2-hour drive northeast. Forget about walking. You'll never make it. Also, you owe the doctor a lot of money for patching you up. But you're in luck: they've got some wheels for you and if you accept the vehicle on loan, Yom Crook will cover your medical bills. That's a good deal, right? It's not the shiniest car or motorcycle, but it'll do. If fortune favors, you'll get to choose between two or three options. Plus, if you need accommodations to drive—like adjustments to your seat height or modified controls—you'll receive all that for free.
Take the vehicle. (And the loan.) Yom Crook assures you that you'll have six months before collectors come around. Any time you're ready to pay a part of it down, return here to the Scrapyard. You'll get a receipt and everything. Paying off the loan in six months isn't impossible, but it will take a lot of work. Just don't get too lax. There's a good chance you'll be juggling multiple loans as you try to get by.
You either know how to drive, or you'll have a bare-bones manual to get you started. Road rules are more a suggestion than enforced, so just hit the pedal and go. The car has some basic features. The built-in compass will help you navigate.
Through the figure's mask ©, you swear the face is grinning down at you. The tent you're in smells of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets line your cot. Injuries you've sustained have been bandaged. In the corner, you spot a MedBot that's fixed you up. Depending on the extent of your injuries, the doctor on duty might give you some painkillers before you go. Thankfully, your belongings are by the exit. Sorry if anything's damaged. Your landing was pretty rough.
You follow the figure outside. They are Yom Crook, here to lend a hand to fellow fluxdrifts like yourself. Their car's parked beside them. Actually, there are lots of cars around, but Yom Crook's stands out with its painted shark mouth. They explain they found you, unconscious, in a diffusion zone and brought you here. The nearest city is a 2-hour drive northeast. Forget about walking. You'll never make it. Also, you owe the doctor a lot of money for patching you up. But you're in luck: they've got some wheels for you and if you accept the vehicle on loan, Yom Crook will cover your medical bills. That's a good deal, right? It's not the shiniest car or motorcycle, but it'll do. If fortune favors, you'll get to choose between two or three options. Plus, if you need accommodations to drive—like adjustments to your seat height or modified controls—you'll receive all that for free.
Take the vehicle. (And the loan.) Yom Crook assures you that you'll have six months before collectors come around. Any time you're ready to pay a part of it down, return here to the Scrapyard. You'll get a receipt and everything. Paying off the loan in six months isn't impossible, but it will take a lot of work. Just don't get too lax. There's a good chance you'll be juggling multiple loans as you try to get by.
You either know how to drive, or you'll have a bare-bones manual to get you started. Road rules are more a suggestion than enforced, so just hit the pedal and go. The car has some basic features. The built-in compass will help you navigate.
OPTIONAL PROMPTS: a flat tire; a body on the road (is it a trap?); a fender bender
Panorama
Explore & Settle In
Conditions: Warm spring temperatures, light showers
After 2 hours on the road, you find civilization. The largest of the strongholds, Panorama is where the economy thrives. Massive power plants glowing red make it visible from a distance. The city is divided into three districts. For now, you can access the Pavilion and the Blocks. Don't worry about the Sanctum; they're not letting you in.
You only need to know two things about Panorama: 1) it's big, the size of a modern metropolis, and you'll need your car to get around; 2) anything goes as long as you don't pick a fight with the wrong person. Street smarts will get you far. Despite its geographical size, the population isn't huge. With roughly a million people in a city designed for over twice that number, Panorama is far from deserted, but nor is it overcrowded. It's a good thing. Resources are limited as it is.
You only need to know two things about Panorama: 1) it's big, the size of a modern metropolis, and you'll need your car to get around; 2) anything goes as long as you don't pick a fight with the wrong person. Street smarts will get you far. Despite its geographical size, the population isn't huge. With roughly a million people in a city designed for over twice that number, Panorama is far from deserted, but nor is it overcrowded. It's a good thing. Resources are limited as it is.
The Pavilion: Free Samples
Like any large city, Panorama features a couple of supermarkets. The stock's not as consistent as a proper supermarket. On occasion, shelves can remain cleaned out for a week or two. Regardless, the long tradition of free samples remains. If you're not already shopping, you'll notice the crowded parking lot and clusters of lines inside.
Try samples, push through the crowds as you shop, or give yourself a five-finger discount. If you're cautious, you can pocket a few small items without consequences. The Pavillion doesn't have the infrastructure for surveillance; unless someone sees you, you won't be caught. Steal from the store or pilfer someone's wallet. Maybe you even make a new friend if you bump into another fluxdrift. Or, start a fight with somebody who cut you off in the cheese line. Don't make too much of a ruckus, or you'll be thrown out.
As you look around, you'll see posters advertising temporary positions for the cash register or graveyard shifts in the warehouse. Seems they might've lost several employees recently (how'd that happen?), which is good for you! It's just a 6-week position, but it'll get you on your feet. The city has temporary positions like this all over. Permanent ones are harder to come by when you're new.
Try samples, push through the crowds as you shop, or give yourself a five-finger discount. If you're cautious, you can pocket a few small items without consequences. The Pavillion doesn't have the infrastructure for surveillance; unless someone sees you, you won't be caught. Steal from the store or pilfer someone's wallet. Maybe you even make a new friend if you bump into another fluxdrift. Or, start a fight with somebody who cut you off in the cheese line. Don't make too much of a ruckus, or you'll be thrown out.
As you look around, you'll see posters advertising temporary positions for the cash register or graveyard shifts in the warehouse. Seems they might've lost several employees recently (how'd that happen?), which is good for you! It's just a 6-week position, but it'll get you on your feet. The city has temporary positions like this all over. Permanent ones are harder to come by when you're new.
Samples include: steamed cabbage dumplings, synthetic cherry juice, cheddar cheese, and chocolate-covered alien eggs (it's crunchy and weirdly tasty). They're served in the usual throwaway paper cups with little toothpicks.
The Blocks: Power Outage
Power's finicky in Panorama, especially in the Blocks. Saint Margery's Hospital, located in the same area, has priority for power so the first to go are the motels. Maybe you've been in your room for a couple of weeks, maybe you just got here—and by the way, every motel desk is happy to put the fee on your tab if you don't have the money upfront—but all the motels on the east side are in a blackout, leaving only the west side motels up and running.
What do you do? You have three choices:
What do you do? You have three choices:
- Risk leaving your room and head to the other side where there's power. Knock on some doors and negotiate with another to share the room. They might shut the door in your face, ask for a favor in return, or be nice enough to help you with no strings attached. There's no guarantee your unattended room will be untouched, though, and you'll be on the hook for any damages an intruder causes.
- Sit in the dark and deal. It's not the worst idea, but the TV's down, the vending machines are powered down, and with the entire place plunged into darkness, you risk getting robbed. If you struggle with defending yourself, you might want to find some trustworthy company. You can also sneak out of there and let them take your leftover pizza. It's not like you've got a ton of valuables, right? Plus, clobbering someone in the face with a frying pan sounds great until you realize you've gotta do something with the body. And what if this person's got a friend waiting?
- Get in your car and drive (or grab a friend for a road trip). If you scroll the Forum, you might notice reports on diffusion zones southward. Besides, these motels are hardly your forever home. The city can only provide so much. Why not go for a ride and see what you can find out there?
OPTIONAL PROMPTS: clean up on aisle 3 (what is that goo?); a knock at your door but no one's there; you hear screaming or a commotion down the hall
The Fringes
Quad 3: Lockdown
Conditions: Stormy, with flooding roads
Felix Bjurstrom
> Date: 125-05-17
> Time: 02:15:57
> Emergency road lights have been reported in Quadrant 3! Please, can someone go see what's there? When last we chasers investigated emergency lights, a whole truck filled with sour candy had tipped over. Our stores were stocked for weeks! Oh, be careful - reception looks bad in that zone.
> Date: 125-05-17
> Time: 02:15:57
> Emergency road lights have been reported in Quadrant 3! Please, can someone go see what's there? When last we chasers investigated emergency lights, a whole truck filled with sour candy had tipped over. Our stores were stocked for weeks! Oh, be careful - reception looks bad in that zone.
Through the open windows, a computer awakens and displays a cheerful smile. The lights inside switch on.
Pick your scenario role below. Your thread partner doesn't need to take the opposite role! They can join you in the same scenario (i.e. trapped together). Players are also free to create a generic NPC for the other side to facilitate the thread.
After characters escape, they'll find one bottle of antibiotics in their pocket or car, whether they remember taking it or not.
After characters escape, they'll find one bottle of antibiotics in their pocket or car, whether they remember taking it or not.
A: Sealed In
As you peer through the windows, you see crates of medicine floating around. Antibiotics in the diadem are valuable. Hospitals and doctors are always buying. You can keep it for yourself or make a quick buck. Or maybe you're compelled to help somebody back in the city who's in need. Whatever the reason, you decide to take the risk and step inside.
Water splashes around your ankles. The lock buzzes behind you. If you try to break the windows, you discover they're unnaturally resistant to shattering. With the whole place locked tight, the water begins to churn. Then the computer lights up again.
Warning, it flashes in large, bold text. Quarantine in progress. Release code required for exit.
- To find the code, you'll have to search. Duck under the water, go through sopping envelopes and sticky notes or pick the locks on the filing cabinets and desk drawers. You can also try hacking the computers. Use your computer knowledge or fall back on the age-old trick of seeing who wrote down their password.
- The files, notepads, and emails start innocuous, but as you look through them, disturbing phrases jump out at you—a dark thought you've had or a cruel taunt from someone in your past. The longer you're fixed on the terrible words, the higher the water begins to rise. Only another can break you out of your trance.
- With the rising water comes fear. And the more you're afraid, the more the water also rises. You begin to see faces in the water, bobbing like balloon heads. Do you recognize them? If you move to take a closer look, they will sink back beneath the surface as if never there.
- If you manage to swallow your panic, you can eventually find a triple-laminated binder with the release code and instructions. Bad news: you need someone on the outside to punch in the 6 strange symbols in order. The instructions explain that the code panel is located at the back of the building.
B: Set Free
As you peer through the windows, you see not just the crates of medicine but someone trapped inside. They look like they might be in trouble, and from your vantage point, you notice that the water is bubbling strangely. It's definitely not normal rainwater. As you watch, the water rises unnaturally, stopping and starting. It's as if the water level is responding to an external stimulus.
- The glass is soundproof. You can't hear what the person inside is saying, so you'll have to communicate with each other another way. Try charades, typing on your phone, or whatever you think of. Eventually, you determine that they're stuck and that you need to enter some sort of code onto a pad located—according to your trapped partner—at the back of the building.
- Around the back, shadows swallow your surroundings. The panel must be pried open, but a slippery substance makes it hard to get a good grip. Each time the substance touches you, you grow uneasy. You swear you see eyes watching you, though when you turn around, nothing's there.
- You can't seem to keep the instructions in your mind. And those symbols...they burn into your retinas. Through them, you glimpse an incomprehensibly massive figure unfurling in the darkness, pulsing as if in a deep sleep. When you snap back to reality, you realize you've injured yourself, slicing your hand on a sharp edge or a bruise you can't remember getting.
- Once you manage to release the doors, the water inside the office drains upward into the sky as though sucked out by a giant hose. The darkness spreads. Get out of there fast before the shadows drag you or your partner into the void.
Main Navigation ::: ⇅
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Frank Castle | Punisher
no remaining invites to offer, unfortunately! )
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍
And then this. This place. A masked figure that he very nearly bodies to the fucking ground, except the vertigo kicks in first, and he staggers back onto the cot, too doped up on something to fly immediately into attack dog mode. That's the only reason he listens. The only reason he absorbs anything — bleary as it is at first, unreal as it seems.
Then again, after the attack on New York, after aliens, androids, and wizards, what's left to question anymore? This type of shit's normally out of his wheelhouse, but the wheelhouse fucking abducted him, so what else is there to do but figure shit out?
He gets to pick from a cherry t-top convertible with no top to go with it, a rust-bucket of a Yamaha, or the option he ultimately settles on: a soccer mom van. On the back, a bumper that reads coexist, and a little stick figure family decal on the back glass depicts a very nice lesbian couple, two stick figure kids, and several stick figure cats.
It takes him another day for the drugs to wear off completely before he's fit to drive. He leaves as the sun is setting, and an hour later, rolls up on the current scene.
It's one of the oldest scams in the book. A classic. Someone left a baby stroller on the side of the road, with just enough of something bundled into it to be concerning. He can make out the tail lights of another car braking to a stop to investigate, and he curses under his breath; god damn it, come on, don't be stupid-
The moment that good Samaritan opens their driver's side door, a small group of assholes spring out from the ditch, from behind rubble and broken down buildings, from behind hiding spots, to descend on whoever happens to be dumb of ass and pure of heart enough to fall for it.
Frank sighs. Pulls over.
And gets out of the car. )
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The confirmation of the aforementioned trap prompts a deep sigh, and exhaustion weighs heavily on her as she takes a few steps away from the van and raises her hands in what she hopes is still a universal sign of meaning no harm. She's clearly unarmed, and her suit might be perceived as anything from tactical to a weird uniform in a place like this, so she certainly doesn't appear to be a threat. ]
Come on, guys, I don't have anything worth stealing. This piece of shit van hardly even runs.
[ If it were her van back home, she would never besmirch it like that, but this one really is crap on wheels and certainly not worth the loan she'd been forced to take out for it. But the assholes apparently disagree, brandishing an assortment of weapons, and her body protests in anticipation of the fight to come that she is in no shape for. Those freaky medical robots might have repaired the major internal damage and healed the worst of her broken bones, but she still feels like she'd been run over by something big and heavy. It's not like that will stop her, though. ]
Really, you don't want to do this. [ She glances back at the stranger who'd pulled up behind them and gotten out of his car. ] And you don't want to get involved.
[ She's tired but not frightened. Weary but not worried. If anything, she's resigned to the fight ahead, and she sure as hell isn't looking forward to it. ]
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( That's the faux-cheerful mostly-flat response she gets to her call, thrown out all while he doesn't even so much as hesitate in his move to extract himself from the van. The rifle comes with him, clasped loosely in his right hand, the strap hanging down in a sag that nearly trails into the dirt beneath his feet. The driver's side door stays open, and the soft ding, ding, ding of polite warning acts as the soundtrack to his slow, careful approach.
Emblazoned on his chest, the stark white spray-painted image of a skull, slowly gaining a famous reputation in the state of New York — planting seeds he'll eventually grow to resent. He showed up here while wearing it, and he hasn't seen any good reason to take it off yet. Won't, until he gets a feel for this city and how frequently he can expect a firefight in it.
So far, the statistics aren't looking good.
He would love to not get involved, but that would necessitate this not happening in the first place.
Daisy might be the more powerful of the two of them, but looks can be deceiving. The ringleader with the knife looks at her and only sees a petite woman with no weapons and, therefor, an easy target. When his eyes land on the brick shithouse that is Frank, with his rifle and the fucking skull on his chest, some of that confidence begins to bleed out.
He jerks the knife Daisy's direction in a sharp, shaky warning before calling out, "Get back in the fucking car, man, or I'll bleed her, I swear to god-"
This does not stop Frank's steady, constant approach. )
How 'bout you put that down before you get yourself hurt?
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Frank Castle. The Punisher. What are the odds she'd run into someone from her neighborhood here?
Turning her attention back to the ringleader when he gives that warning, the shaking in his voice betraying how he's suddenly feeling like he's in over his head. Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it's true, asshole. Daisy takes a step forward, tearing the guy's focus from the approaching doom, and the knife swings with it toward her. With years of training and no conscious thought, she turns into the attack, using one arm to block his while the other grabs his wrist. It's easy to use the idiot's momentum against him, twisting him around and forcing his arm into an uncomfortable enough angle to drop the knife.
A smart man would take this as a sign to cut his losses and run. These are not smart men. ]
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And hell, would you look at that — she goes and surprises every single goddamn one of them by having combat training. If he were gonna pop a shot into anybody, it would've been the man closest to her, the one with the knife, the one where time and distance were a real factor and he'd need to be put down before he could sink the blade into her body somewhere.
But now that problem's solved, it means he can dart forward before the second man gets in range of her, jamming the cold steel of his rifle directly into that asshole's nose, breaking it and rendering him staggering, hunched over. The perfect position for a brutal knee to the face, right on time for goon number three to step in — but apparently goon three has at least one single working brain cell, because when choosing between his targets, he elects not to go for the very large man that might have just driven his buddy's nose straight into his brain, and instead he goes for the thinner woman that looks like she's disarming and subduing non-lethally. He'll take his chances with her, thanks.
Like it's gonna end any better for him.
Goon two had a makeshift machete made out of the sharpened scrap metal of a highway road sign, bound at the bottom in a rubber hilt and coated in layers and layers of duct tape. He takes it in hand, and turns on Three right as the guy goes to try and wrap a hand around Daisy's wrist. )
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𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚋𝚗𝚋 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜
Whoever comes knocking is greeted by the door opening very abruptly to an imposing, battered man in a black tank-top and equally black utility pants. His face and arms are an array of cuts and bruises, and the stone-faced mistrust in his expression doesn't exactly scream happy friendly fun time. If you happen to be from the right universe (or an adjacent one), it might even be a face you recognize from the news — the trial was highly publicized and hotly debated, after all.
Frank doesn't even say a goddamn word — he just stares at whoever had the audacity to knock, expectant and unimpressed. Better make a good case for yourself fast, because it's not looking promising. )
here's one from the character i'm def not apping
[ Well, he's a stony one, isn't he? Nashua presses her lips together into a smile, although one would need to ignore that a few shades have been knocked off her pallor to really appreciate it. Will she ever be as white as Frank Castle? Nah. But, right now, she almost looks as white as Frank Castle.
With a wheeze that suggests great effort, she turns to the side and lifts her arm a bit above her head. Her coat and shirt are both sheared open with jagged flaps of fabric; beneath that is a flesh wound of significance.
At least, of significance to a normie. ]
Do you have, like, a first aid kit or something?
[ With another pained exhale, she lowers her arm again. ]
I'll— fuck it, I'll pay you for it. Come on, man.
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He should probably look more unsettled, being confronted rather abruptly by a stranger gushing blood — but more than anything, he simply looks resigned.
Two, three more seconds are spent peering out around her, looking for any accomplices she might have waiting in the wings to pop in and pull one over on him, but when nobody's there to be found, he sighs and steps out of the doorway to make room. )
Alright, come on. Shut the door behind you.
( Because he's a little too busy to do it himself, what with walking purposefully toward the bathroom where he's seen the world's shittiest little first aid kit under the sink a few days ago. Apparently he's got just enough heart left to bleed for a desperate twenty-something girl looking frayed at the edge of her rope. Somebody alert the media, he's not so much of a jackass as to say Not My Problem about this one.
Not that he looks particularly happy about it, but that's not one of the requirements. )
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Bunching up the turtleneck, she holds it against her wound to staunch the bleeding, and waddles after him. ]
Hey, thanks. I'll just patch myself up and fuck off—
[ Obviously, the further she gets away from the front door, the less light there is. Power outage, etc. But there's still enough to see by if you're gifted with good eyesight. Frank's dip into the bathroom has him pass by a grainy, water-and-toothpaste-splattered mirror fastened to the wall above the sink. His reflection isn't him, though. It's an uncommonly handsome man, a movie star or something, with very neat and shiny brown hair.
Nash exhales softly, gives her head a little shake. His ghosts are clearly unique, sure, but she's not his therapist. The song remains the same. Get in, get patched up, get out. But when she recovers from her brief pause, her voice is even less animated than usual. ]
—uh, yeah.
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If he notices her falter, if her uh, yeah stands out, he doesn't give any indication of it. He holds out the kit, but before he releases it, he can't help asking: )
You actually know what you're doing with that?
( Because in his experience, most civilians tend to think they know what they're doing with the kind of unfounded confidence that leads to an infection. Staunching the bleeding's a good start, but if it's that bad, money's on her needing stitches.
He's not gonna insist on helping, he's plenty aware of the optics and she's probably not gonna die over it, but. It's worth checking. )
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𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜
Bad luck and nothing else ends with him sealed in the room — either by himself, or with an unfortunate partner. Aiming his rifle at the glass and pulling the trigger results only in a spiderweb of cracks splintering outward from the impact site. Bulletproof safety glass — the fuck kind of office building needs something like that?
He's not afraid of drowning. Not afraid of the rising water. Not afraid of the dark and ominous scribbles left behind on scraps of note paper and on file folders.
What gets him are the faces. The ones that rise in the water nearby, floating to the surface, porcelain and beginning to bloat. Eyes open but gone grey, lifeless.
His task is completely forgotten as he surges forward toward it, the rising tide up to his waist, fear rising with it in his chest like the morning sun, one strong breeze away from diving under himself to get to the quickly-retreating body. His clothes cling to him, soaked, sagging, weighing him down as he pushes through, water rippling around him, feral and urgent. )
Lisa!
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So, he's out wandering instead of sleeping, green slug bug parked haphazardly up the block. When Wrench notices shadows moving inside the windows of an office building he's wandering past, it validates something. People just can't help themselves, can they? They see shit, and they have to have it. Desire is more trouble than it's worth.
With nowhere to be and no plans to sleep any time soon, Wrench spares the time to observe. The man inside seems increasingly frantic, and it's not too long before he's able to see why: the water on the floor is rising.
He's not sure he believes in karmic justice; people largely get what they get, and that fact isn't much changed by how much or how little they deserve it. But Wrench is ostensibly glad to see the face on the other side of that glass doesn't exactly have an air of innocence to it. The busted-up nose and mess of healing cuts and bruises give a pretty good indication of just what kind of man this is, he thinks. Even more so when the stranger pulls out a gun and cocks it toward the glass. Wrench watches the pane absorb the shock of impact without giving.
He's witnessed even more death than he's been direct party to, and that number is frankly staggering. Wrench's conscience would forgive him if he didn't intervene. But as he watches the man desperately search for something unseen, preparing to immerse himself in the rising tide, he reaches out a fist and bangs on the glass instead. There's something about the frantic desperation toward an unseen source that piques his curiosity.)
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It's made even more absurd by the fact that she's dead. She's obviously dead, she's dead. Even if he could get to her-- what? What's he gonna do, give her mouth to mouth? Resuscitate a corpse? But it doesn't matter, the only thing that he can think, the only thing compelling him, is the notion that he can't leave his baby girl's body to sink and bloat in this shithole building, that he needs to hold it, clutch her to his chest and carry her out somehow, push her hair back away from her face, tie it back like he used to do a thousand times before, braid it maybe before he puts her in the ground where she belongs.
Wrench gets to watch him dive, plunging himself into the water for long seconds before resurfacing, shaking the wet out of his face like a dog, frantic, the weapon strapped to his back a useless weighted hindrance that keeps slamming against his thighs but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but getting to her.
Nothing.
Not even saving himself anymore. Not even drowning. Only her. )
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The man plunges under and Wrench watches him churn against those depths, reaching for nothing in particular. His grip extends past floating bits of paper and an errant stapler and he shoves everything out of the way with equal negligence. As Wrench waits for him to resurface, he watches the water rise... and then watches it fall. He steps to the left, peering further past the plate glass into the room. When the man breaks the surface again, Wrench has positioned himself in his line of sight.
He waves his arms and gives the glass a hard kick. It may not make a sound, but it does something better: the force of his boot against the pane of glass causes a fractional movement that sends a ripple across the water's surface toward the stranger. Wrench waves his hands again. )
Someone's fucking with you. Water's rising and falling.
( He demonstrates, raising his arm with the rising tide and then dropping it again. Wrench isn't counting on much understanding from the other man, but he's involved now, and he figures the best way to break whatever spell the stranger's gripped by is to focus on the anomaly. )
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𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍
or follow your heart, fam. )
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That's new.
Pretty sure there's no place to fish around here, either.
Walk a couple blocks, he'd find another diner for an identical cup of coffee. He considers doing just that, but if the sign's meant to intrigue, it's done the job. Less than an hour to noon. Colour him curious if Ronnie's actually gonna show up or if he's permanently gone fishing. In the meantime, Logan skims the bunch of flyers taped to the light pole nearby. He does need another job, if only so he can get the Professor his own damn place. Look, out of everybody, Charles has the lowest chance of testing his patience so it could be worse, but sharing a room? Not his favourite thing.
Ten minutes later, another regular rumbles up. Logan doesn't know the man so much as he just recognizes him from all the times he's seen him across the diner.
Silently, Logan points at the sign. ]
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Until today. Until he parks his piece of shit minivan around the side and rolls up, keys in hand, mind already on his cup of coffee and short stack order, only to find himself on the receiving end of a look, and a point.
He looks.
Clocks the sign. Under his breath a slow, annoyed: )
Ah, shit. You kiddin' me?
( It's exactly the level of patience you'd expect from a New Yorker. Namely: almost none at all. Two seconds spent debating, and then he shoots a sideways look at the man waiting by the pole. Further breaks their unspoken agreement of everybody should always leave everybody else alone forever by asking: )
Hey, buddy, you got the time?
( He hasn't dropped cash on a watch yet, and his phone's in the van being a paperweight, seeing as he doesn't have anybody's phone number and there's absolutely no reason to bring it inside. )
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As far as he can tell, nothing like that's happening. Not yet, anyway. Guess there's still plenty of time.
Logan digs into his pocket, though it's not for his phone. He sticks a cigar between his lips. Took him two hours and a too-cheerful kid stocking the barely full shelves, but he managed to scrounge up a pack the other day. ]
'Bout twenty past. [ If his sense of time is right. He digs for a second longer. ] You got a light?
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He's restless and tinkering is an excellent way to entertain idle hands. There's little else he can do with his own car without the shit he needs, but he's out here with duct-tape and a can-do attitude. Or a must-do attitude, probably.
But he's taped about all that can be taped in his pick-up, so he loiters curiously until Frank pops back out from under the hood.]
This yours? [He gestures at the van, metal fingers loosely holding his tape.]
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Frank thinks, for several foolish minutes, that if he just ignores whoever it is, they'll eventually go away and leave him alone. This, of course, does not happen — and so there's a certain level of tired resignation in him when he ultimately reels himself out from under the hood and shoots a sideways look at the source of the voice. )
Apparently.
( It's deadpan, and laced ever-so-slightly with disdain. Yeah, wouldn't have been his first choice either, but when it came down to making his pick, it was the only goddamn option with a full roof. He's seen jackasses around here running around with motorcycles, and all it's gonna take is one bullet-spray or hailstorm for them to regret that decision. Couldn't be him, thanks.
And then, a little more impatiently: )
You need somethin', or is the TV here just that bad?
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Mostly because he's right, TV does suck here. There's no better way to spend idle time than by alienating your peers.]
No. [He answers with a light shrug.] Nothing you've got in your wagon, anyway.
[He is going to curiously wander toward the back of the van.]
Seen worse choices. Tested it for speed?
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she is kind of getting the hang of it, after a nebulous amount of long minutes.
she places a plate of runny eggs and some toast down in front of a man at the counter, before she finally turns to the man sitting at the end. )
Sorry for the wait.
( she mumbles, fishing out her notepad from her jean's pocket, hardly the chipper tone for any morning pleasantries. she applied for the cleaning job to not deal with people. )
What's your order?
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He's seen this place go through ebbs and flows of low customers and peak volume, seen the last server throw a fork at a customer's head, and wasn't altogether surprised to learn somebody new would be replacing them.
What he is surprised by is the face on the other end of the order pad. He's halfway through rattling out: )
Yes ma'am, can I get a cup of coffee please-
( Only to double-take, falter, and stop and squint at her. )
Wait, do I know you from somewhere?
( Is it remotely possible to live in New York for any length of time and not get blasted in the face with images of the Avengers? Give him a second, he'll make the connection. They're only on the news like every other god damn week. )
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wanda jerks a thumb over to the corner, where her bucket is at, with the mop leaning against the wall. )
I've been cleaning this place the past week.
( so, probably from there?
she lowers her face, back to the notepad. her actions and gestures are definitely deflective, and someone trained like frank has will most likely be able to tell. if she can reel this back onto another topic of conversation, then maybe he'll forget to make a connection, if there is to be one. )
Just a coffee?
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