TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025

[thediadem]

Test Drive ∞ May 2025

The First Collision

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Jump ⇅ :: Arrival — Panorama — Fringes — Invite Request

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.

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:

• 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.

TDM Questions? Here — Game Questions? FAQ

Setting — Taken — Reserves — Applications ::: ⇅ Top

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.

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: a flat tire; a body on the road (is it a trap?); a fender bender

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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.

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.

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

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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:

• 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

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©

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.

Whether you end up here on your own or you were following a tip on the Forum, the outcome is the same: you come to a stop in front of a 2-story office building that's flooded several inches deep. Emergency lights from a roadblock flicker through the stormy night. Stepping out of your car, you're soaked within seconds. When you check your phone, you don't have any bars. No calls in or out.

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.

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.

Let's hope a friendly face comes along.

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.

Of course, you don't have to help anyone. You can leave the individual there, make a deal, or outright extort them. But remember, you're not the only person on these roads. You might want to play your cards carefully, even if altruism isn't your first instinct.

Main Navigation ::: ⇅ Top

Comments

karen page { daredevil/mcu.

[pagings]

[ all prompts are ota - emp link here - also open to wildcard responses depending on what strikes the fancy. c:
also feel free to reach out to me on this account or at disarmingly ]

fluxdrift.

[pagings]

fluxdrift.
BEHIND THE WHEEL

[ it all feels a bit like a nightmare - a dream she can't shake herself from. the last thing she remembers was the night before, talking to foggy, telling him everything and drinking herself through an entire bottle of bourbon. she made it home, she thinks, but she also thinks she might have slipped getting into bed. or was it the shower? then, when she wakes, she's-

she's got to be in a nightmare. she has to be. it feels just too out of body as she is led out of the medical tent, as some kind of robot from a sci-fi movie beeps away, as she follows the figure in the giant motorcycle helmet. yom crook. what kind of name is that? where even is she? karen barely says a thing as he explains what happened, these diffusion zones, where they are. he mentions a city, panorama, two hours away. karen feels sick, like the entire world is spinning, and she wonders if maybe she did hit her head a little too hard.

but then this yom crook offers a set of keys, a car, says I'll handle the medical bills and Karen snatches the keys from him. it's probably a trap, it has to be some kind of trap, but she's not sticking around to find out.

she has to get to the city, this panorama, and then she can figure out the rest. with her pistol in her bag and very little else, Karen peels off in some old, beat up truck car, going way too fast through the winding roads and thick forests, and she tries, desperately, not to think of vermont. not to think of home.

it's an hour in that she notices something off in the distance, a kind of shuddering of the air, something off with the road. that's when she sees:

SPINNING OUT: or doesn't. because she doesn't even see what it is - only that it's sudden, it's dark, and it's huge. she swerves to avoid it, whatever it is, and her tires squeal as she skids across the concrete, losing traction on the damp road and turning off into the woods themselves. the force of it has her car forcing itself through the limbs and trees, and honestly it's some kind of miracle that she manages to miss anything large enough to crash into, coming to a stop about two hundred yards into the woods themselves.

it takes karen a few moment to catch her breath, checking her arms, her legs, her chest for any sort of injury. she appears fine, somehow, and she shakily kicks the creaky door open and stumbles out into the soft ground, landing unsteadily on her feet. you might see her as she looks around, having no idea where she is, and turns back to her car and the steep hill she just all but fell down and she curses. mind giving her a hand?

DINER NIGHTS: an old building, dark and clearly abandoned, but it's the first sign of anything she's seen in miles. part of Karen wonders if this is even a good idea, but the other part of her knows that she could use the break, so she slows to a stop and pulls into the small, broken-up parking lot. she comes to a slow stop, stepping out and looking up at the dark face of the diner, swallowing back the discomfort in just how much it makes her think of home.

she pushes open the door and steps inside, eyeing the dusty, abandoned interior. as she starts to search through behind the bar, looking for food, for anything of use, a sound in the back kitchen has her freezing.

did you hear it too? is it you? either way, karen's hand is going to her gun, just to be safe. ]

spinning out

[healbuff]

Whoa!

[River hits the brakes and pulls over his Hummer when he sees the car spin out. Much to his relief, a person, specifically a woman, stumbles out of the car, but that doesn't mean she was out of the clear yet.]

Hey! Over here!

[He raises both of his arms and waves it over his head. In case she doesn't see him, he runs back to his car and turns on the headlights and then remains there so that she wouldn't feel intimidated by him.]

Lady, you okay? Can I check up on you?

[pagings]

[ karen's breathing is still a bit heightened, but when she hears someone calling out, she turns to the noise. he's a bit far out of reach so she can't quite make out through the trees where it's coming from, but when the lights kick on she's able to pin down a bit more of a direction. ]

I'm okay!

[ she calls out to the question, waving back so he knows she's heard him. and she is okay - a bit shaken up, but she's been in worse. ] I didn't hit you, did I?

diner

[brandingproblem]

[It is Clint, because he'd pulled around back to check it out maybe five minutes earlier. Seems like an odd place for a diner, but hey, a lot of things about this place are odd, and this is hardly the oddest.

If there's food that hasn't gone bad, he wants to find it either for himself or to sell off. Or give away, maybe. Maybe there's a coffee machine he can jack. Maybe there are knives that aren't rusted to shit he can take for his own, since he seems to have misplaced his sword.

He's not exactly trying to be quiet, abandoned as hell as this place is. Oh shit, is that some bags of coffee? If they aren't full of mold instead of coffee grounds, this might be worth a fortune. At least to his desire for caffeine.

If she makes an approach, gun held, he's going to pause, slowly raise his hands. With two bags of coffee dangling between fingers.]

You gotta announce you're a cop, if you are. [Just in case someone called the cops on him or he tripped an alarm--unlikely, but still.]

[pagings]

[ it's not that she's trying to be aggressive here, but she definitely somehow missed whatever noise he was making when she first came in and now there is very obviously someone else in this abandoned diner and she doesn't know what the power dynamics here are supposed to be.

still - by the time he holds up his hands, coffee bags dangling between his fingers, karen's brow furrows. he's stealing... coffee?

she can't exactly fault him for it. from what she's gathered of this place and its resources, anything and everything is up for grabs. but she doesn't know how she feels about... this. about any of it. ]

Do I look like a cop? [ she asks, incredulous, because to her eye, she couldn't be the furthest thing from. half the work she's done has been exposing cops, mostly corrupted. still, she does lower the barrel of her gun - making it obvious she's not really looking to shoot anyone. ]

What are you doing?

diner; w/ some wildcarding.

[carcajous]

[ Outside the parking lot, there's an old bike parked between two stalls, like the owner couldn't give a damn about following the rules. Out here, what's the point? Not like there's gonna be a swarm of people coming in to...whatever the hell this diner is. The lights are out, one of the windows boarded up, the rest thick with grime and dust. The smell of dried blood and mould permeates the air. The closer he steps, the stronger it grows.

Probably not an overnight stay, then. But he can hear footsteps inside—light, human, probably a woman or somebody with a slight build–and that makes him want to see. Must be the other car parked outside. Other than that one, there's no sign of another soul.

Well. A human soul. Something skitters across the stained hardwood inside. He frowns. The noise travels up the wall to the left, then across the cobwebbed ceiling. The hell—

A clatter snaps his attention away. Logan turns a corner where he glimpses a head of tousled blonde hair behind the bar. An ancient bottle of beer rolls toward his foot. He bends down to pick it up. Maybe his footsteps on the creaky wood is what she heard, maybe it's the skittering, but either way, before he can open his mouth, ask her who she is or if she needs any help, the entire ceiling crashes down on top of her with the weight of something. It's big, black, coated in a layer of shifting darkness, so black it practically absorbs what little light's coming from the parking lot outside. The building shudders. Glass shatters.

He dives at it—skidding across the floor with the black mass. A single eye opens into a teeth-filled mouth. Alright, so maybe getting up close and personal was a bad idea, but. Too late to turn back now. ]

[pagings]

[ something's has been off since karen came to a stop outside of the diner, but she hasn't been able to put a finger on what. she tells herself it's just the entire thing, waking up in this nightmare, the process of getting the car, the whole feeling of the winding road and the abandoned building. something is off about this whole place, but karen's not about to pass up on a possible chance at food, maybe people, maybe more clues as to what this place is and what's going on.

getting inside doesn't help the feeling, even as she's more and more sure no one else is here. she makes her way through the front, the dusty and decrepit lobby and some busted booths. the wood creaks under her feet, but she doesn't think it's dangerous. not yet anyway- so she tries to be as quick as she can.

she's shuffling through what's left behind the car, looking through any possible boxes, maybe some pre-packaged snacks. she's not sure what she's going to find, but she just wants it to be something - it feels a bit like she hasn't eaten in days, and if she's going to hit a city soon, she figures-

she bumps something - a box, a chair, a piece of plywood, she's not sure - and it sends the contents of the top of the counter onto the floor around her. the sound is loud, and enough that distracts her from her task, and the potential sound of anyone (or any thing) around her. she curses, covering her face at first and then moving to try and pick up some of the glass and crap that she'd knocked over, when she hears another crack, another sound. it could easily be his footsteps, or maybe it's the shifting of something above her. she isn't entirely sure.

what she does know is that karen glances up just in time to see the ceiling start to give way, and she has just enough time to cover her head and cower down closer to the bar as the entire ceiling gives way with something she doesn't really see comes with it. she screams - she can't really help it - and feels movement, different than the shifting of material, but instead like something comes lunging from the other side of the diner.

it's a couple of moments before she tries to push herself out from under everything, shoving away the panels and wood and anything else that came down over her and coughing through the thick smoke. that's when she hears skittering - different that the commotion of whatever it was that had been on top of her and then was forcefully pushed off, smaller and faster. she reaches down and searches for her pistol, her hand wrapping around it after a couple of terrifying moments and then it's up, pointed in the direction of- god, she's not even sure. there's growing, there's hissing, there are the sounds of something and Karen tries to blink through the settling dust into whatever light makes it in from the windows but all she sees is darkness and- someone else. ]

Hey! [ she yells out after a moment, a warning, before she shoots just over the man's right shoulder into another skittering mass along the back wall behind him.

it tenses, its legs shudder a bit, and then it retreats back into the now exposed rafters. karen stands, shakily, and shoots twice more - another mass that had come out from a hole behind the coffee machine further down the bar. ]

diner nights!

[nashua]

[ The sound Karen hears? It's a loud, angry clatter of metal dishware against linoleum, followed by— ]

Holy shit—

[ And the short doors between the kitchen and the dining area swinging open, as a young woman in a yellow coat bursts through them and out of the dark. She isn't focusing on the woman with the gun, but rather losing the terrifying tail she's picked up: three furious geese (at one point of the Canadian variety), who have made the back kitchen their home and are unimpressed to see it so disturbed.

One of them curls its neck and flaps its wings menacingly at Karen. The other two are still bellowing offended squawks and running after Nashua. ]

[pagings]

Wha-?

[ she asks it more to herself than any one person in particular, but then the doors swing open and a young woman comes barreling out towards her. karen's immediately on, her eyes to the doors, wondering who or what might come following the other woman, only to see-

geese? karen blinks, not quite understanding what's happening. two follow the other woman as one turns towards karen, flapping its wings, and karen's pistol lowers more out of confusion. the goose who has turned towards her sees that as offensive, like its not worth her attention, and squaks angrily. karen flinches a little and then frowns at it, her eyes going to the other woman. ]

Are you okay? [ she yells, hoping to be heard, the goose squeaking angrily again and stepping towards her, and Karen just kind of steps back, hoping to avoid this entirely. ] Hey!

diner.

[vestments]

( once upon a time, marc had died — he's pretty sure — and he'd awoken in darkness, to the figures of scarlet fasinera and carson knowles, one saving him, the other attempting to kill him. he'd never quite been sure what had been real and what had been khonshu, and what had been somewhere in between. this is no different, only this time there's no khonshu, no familiar faces of any kind, no anything that serves as clue.

then, he'd said something about how he'd died once before and beat it, so he could do it again.
now, he knows there's a finite number of times he can manage that, at least with staying himself, and he doesn't yet have an answer.
(had he ever reached one then? no, not really, but he'd done enough that a conclusion hadn't really mattered.)

the diner's familiar in the way that so many diners are: tired. sticky, laminated menus with too-cheap coffee and equally sticky tables. he'd say he stopped because it was convenient — it's certainly not welcoming — but in another life, it could've been gena's, could've had ricky and ray running around, and though it doesn't—.

he couldn't help but wonder, up until the point he'd parked, up until the point he'd stepped foot inside.

he's not hungry (he is, when was the last time he'd eaten?) (it's fine—), but he's thirsty (coffee goes a long way), and though he wouldn't trust most anything, there's something to be said for the impossibility of instant coffee, the bitter, terrible taste of freeze-dried granules and boiling water. the marines had taught him not to be picky, whilst africa, south america, the middle east — hot, sweaty countries, where men like him were far from appreciated — had continued the education.

the noise in the dark, then, is marc — or rather, thanks to marc. it's the turning of a tap, the clunk of a water boiler and pipes coming, reluctantly, to life. a whine and a groan, high-pitched and unpleasant, punctuated by a very human wince. god, that wasn't his smartest idea, but he hadn't heard anyone pull up outside, hadn't heard them enter.

what he does notice is the barest flicker of movement out in the diner, away from the kitchen. it's in the falling of shadows, the flicker of dark then light then dark, and marc entirely forgets about the coffee, and edges carefully, with the sort of ease that comes only with training and practice, towards the door. there's no handle — it's the sort of fire-proof door with double hinges that makes sneaking difficult, but it doesn't stop him.

even if he is dressed all in white, even if he is dressed in a three-piece suit, all shirt and jacket and tie and waistcoat.

with the sort of confidence that only accompanies such a baffling sartorial choice, marc pushes open the door with a foot, a white chelsea boot the only discernible part of marc visible as, ) It's impolite to sneak.

( chicago-accented, hard-edges and vowels softened by years of travel. )

FORGIVE MY DELAY i had. so much personal stuff happen + I failed as an rper but cries. MARC. ;-;

[pagings]

[ ooc also i know that the mingle's just gone up so if we would prefer to nix this and just do something there, I'm all for it. just lmk! ]


[ it's a good thing that karen's hand is already on her gun, or else the slow movement of the door to the back kitchen opening would have been enough to genuinely freak her out. as it stands, she's simply on edge - ducking down so her back is against the bar, having only seen the movement out of the corner of her eye before she dropped. that does mean she doesn't see any of the stark white of his boot, or suit, or really anything else - all she hears is the accent, the stress around impolite. ]

I wasn't trying to sneak.

[ she says from the other side of the bar as she considers her choices, whether she wants to just try and take her chances with whoever it is that was (also) sneaking in the back room, or if this she needs to be more careful about all this. she closes her eyes and breathes for a second, and then another, before she opens them again.

she does not take her gun off safety. yet. though she can already hear the echo of a voice telling her that's a stupid move. she won't have the time to think if this goes south, let alone... whatever. she doesn't do it. yet. but she does look around for the exits, how close (or far) they might be from where she's situated. ]

I'm just looking for food. [ her voice is placating, if only a bit scared of what might happen. ] I promise.

panorama.

[pagings]

panorama.
NEW DAY, NEW PROBLEM.

[ at the end of the day (or, maybe it's more honest to say week, because she does end up spending a day or two in total denial), karen adapts. it's not exactly that she wants to be here, but if she's going to figure out how to get home, it's not going to be hiding away in her car or whatever motel room she finds. no- she needs to get out into the city. needs to start looking for answers. and that's what she does.

THE PAVILION: debt is not a new concept to Karen, and the moment that she spends more than a couple of hours in the pavilion and realizes that there are temporary positions up for hire, she doesn't so much as hesitate before signing herself up. she knows how these things rack up, knows how you can all but sell your soul over to the wrong people if you let this sit for too long, and so she starts working, in whatever way will give her the chance.

you might find her at the counter looking tired and a little lost, but there's something vaguely retail-experienced about the way she'll perk up if you come up to her, how she'll help where she can even if she has no real idea what most of this stuff is. you also might find her out and about the shelves, picking things up or straightening things out. the work might be a little futile, but she'll keep at it as much as possible, even when a particularly rushed individual pushes by her and has her dropping an entire tray of canned something or other. or, maybe, she catches your, or someone near you's, eyes somewhere in the aisles right as you, or that someone else, pockets something. depending on who it is she's watching and what it is they're pocketing, she may or may not appear to be about to say something.

POWER OUTAGE: it's not her first outage, but it might be her second - she's been here long enough to not be completely scared off by the darkness. no, this time she is a bit more ready for it, and as the darkness settles across her building and the murmurs of the residents start to pick up, her pistol is officially in her hand.

the commotion starts off quiet, barely a scuffle, but by the time that karen hears someone yelling - a female voice, louder than the rest - she is unlocking her door and peeking out down the hall. her pistol's safety is off, her hand on the trigger, as she slowly makes her way down the dark hallway towards the noise, keeping her eyes behind her as much as ahead of her. she'll pause at the corner before turning it, fast, with her pistol's barrel up, right into your face. are you running from the commotion? are you also trying to investigate? either way, karen will hesitate before pulling the trigger, which is honestly good for you and her both.

or, maybe, you see her out on the street packing up what appears to be a light load. whether or not you keep watching her, it becomes increasingly obvious she is not sticking around to deal with the darkness, and instead may be headed out to the diffusion zone. if you happen to need a ride, somewhere in the city or even out into the zone itself, she might just listen to your request. might even offer a ride, if you don't seem too suspicious. ]

POWER OUTAGE; this never happened tho.

[terrorisms]

( It sure would be nice to be able to say this is the first time Karen Page has ever pointed a gun at his face. There's something distinctly funny about the first five seconds of this scene — the whirl of a barrel, the dark and imposing shape that is Frank, Karen's slender figure at arms and her hands entirely too steady, Frank's own hands coming up to hover placatingly in the air. Not because he couldn't disarm a civilian easier than breathing, but because right now, he doesn't have a reason to. That pistol pointed at his face barely a pea-shooter compared to the heft of the rifle hanging from a shoulder strap at his side.

He's out here for the same reason as her — that scream, that woman's voice, carrying through the silence of his dark and empty bedroom with the kind of terror that suggests victim. He's not the hero type, but he's also not the type to sit back while somebody takes advantage of a woman within shouting distance, so here they are.

Only now, his eyes have adjusted, and he can finally make out her face through the darkness. His hands drop instantly as he rasps out an incredulous, )

Karen?

no it did not. c:

[pagings]

[ she's on edge - there's no telling what she might find when she finally steps out of her run down, dirty motel space. anything of value beyond her car is on her person, the highest value the gun in her hand and the phone in her pocket. she's exhausted, but you wouldn't be able to tell that from how steady her hand is around the pistol, the slow steps she takes making her way down the hall.

there was never going to be a world where Karen wasn't here when the woman started screaming, wasn't going to be a world where she wouldn't come for help. she knows that she might be walking into a trap, maybe a crowd of people, a mugging, a robbery, but night after night she's heard too much shit and it's keeping her up, anyway. she had to look. she has to make sure.

what she doesn't expect is the figure of a man right around that corner, a familiar set of shoulders, the tilt of his neck. his hands are out, placating, trying to hold off an unsteady trigger finger despite the rifle hanging from his shoulder, but he knows how to diffuse a situation. knows how to calm someone who might be a little in out of their league.

the last time she saw frank castle, he'd been covered in blood - his arm has been wrecked, his jaw tight from the pain, and he'd been looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered. and she'd let him go - right up into the elevator shaft, out of harm's way, as she waited to be found. interrogated. to go on with her life.

karen? he asks, and she lowers the barrel of her gun, her mouth falling a little open. no matter how much she might have been telling herself to expect the unexpected, to be ready for anything, this, somehow, was never part of it. ]

Frank?

power outage

[potentialman]

[ It's better to head trouble off before it gets too much of a foothold, or so Megumi figures, and as such he's making his own way through the hallway. He doesn't call up a shikigami, figuring that doing so might attract undue attention, but then he turns the corner--

--and immediately regrets it, because there's a gun in his face.

He holds his hands up. They're empty (which is how he's more dangerous, but never mind that).

Would you shoot a teenager, Karen? ...please don't, either way. ]

[pagings]

[ it only takes a moment, not even a whole moment, before she's dropping the barrel of the gun. because no- no she would not shoot a teenager. ]

What are you doing? [ she ends up whispering, looking back down the hall and then stepping a little closer to him. ]

You need to go back to your room. Something's happening.

pavilion

[carmesi]

( wanda has been one of the many fluxdrifts who has had to, just like karen, just adapt to the new normal. she has never had a job in her life before, so this is her first forage into this strange new thing—which is why wanda has picked out something relatively tame.

helping at a store and bouncing between supporting at the counter or cleaning up and stocking aisles.

today, the nice blond lady is there at one of the shelves, and wanda sweeps by with a few boxes of some off-brand cereal between her arms. )

Someone took these to the counter but never came back to pay for them.

( so they need to be put back in their place. except she has no room to pull them out of her arms and set them up in place herself. they're both wearing the same apron for the place with a little name tag. wanda squints... )

...Karen, right?

[pagings]

[ it's nothing like any job karen's had before - the explanation that it was temporary made sense, yes. but the fact she didn't know almost anyone who worked with her, and barely had a sense of her hours, or even what her jobs were supposed to be...

it made for a chaotic experience, which she supposed matched the rest of it too. this place, this living they're making. karen was never one to really let this sort of thing get to her, but it definitely didn't make any of this easy.

but she has met people, here, who have made it a little easier. it's part of the reason she still manages a smile to customers, why she's not entirely closed off when someone approached her. at times, it reminded her just enough of new york, and that was somehow what kept her going.

so when the other woman approaches with an armful of boxes, Karen - tired, yes, a little overwhelmed (she can only straighten shelves for so long before they start feeling like they're messing themselves up) - she still manages a smile. an exhale. ] They've been doing that a lot, lately. Here- [ thankfully, she notices the way the other woman - her coworker, she realizes a bit belatedly - can't really move her arms with how many of these boxes are tucked in them. so karen reaches out to help unload. ]

Yeah- I only started like two weeks ago. And you're... [ her eyes go to the nametag, but only briefly. ] Wanda?

the fringes.

[pagings]

the fringes.
LOCKED INSIDE

[ karen sees the message of the forum, gets in her car, and is out there as soon as she can. the rain is heavy, almost too thick to see through, and the water splashes almost uo over the top of her boots. the emergency lights are the best that karen can see through the downpour, and the fact her phone has no service feels a bit like a laughing in the face from the universe- just like the image on the computer screen. her gut tells her this is a bad idea, but as soon as she sees the crates of medicine, she knows there's no turning back.

except there is, the moment she hears the lock buzzing behind her. she turns and sees the windows closed, locked, and Karen feels a familiar sense of panic swell in her chest. she knows even before she lunges for the window and tries to start bashing against the glass, looking around for anything she can use to break it open and finding that it won't budge even under the force of a chair or box.

she's locked in, and the water is churning, dangerously. way to go, Karen. look what you got yourself into. again.

whether or not you're inside with her or out on the other end of the glass, you'll see Karen turn back to the room and go directly under the water to search for anything that might look like a manual or booklet. her search is a bit frantic, but determined, as she heads for the filing cabinets and desks - jerking the drawers free and searching through the stacks of papers as quickly as she can - desperate.

this kind of thing? never ends well.

THE FILES (on the inside) this isn't the first time that karen was under a time limit when searching through files, but it is the first time she's done it with a whirlpool around her legs. while it does physically slow her down a tad, it almost makes her determination to move all the more, dumping drawer after drawer after file on whatever dry-ish surface she can find and rifling through.

at first she doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary - notes, some comments, reminders. she reads them, or speed reads them, as she is already picking up the next - which makes it feel all the more unsettling when she starts to find patterns. familiar names. phrases that are familiar to her but only because she's...

whether you're at another desk or searching through some other crate, karen will still in her search her face pale and frozen in an almost sob as she stares down at what appears to be a news article. but that can't be right, can it? it looks...it's not even the news, just a stream of conscious word form, thoughts and thoughts about...

she'll need help getting pulled out of this one, even if she hadn't fallen into the trance.

THE CODE (on the outside) it takes her too long to find the binder, way too long, but she gets there eventually - finding a laminated, safe, obviously important binder. when she recognizes what has to be the code, her eyes are immediately on the window, on the downpour of rain outside.

whenever it is you end up finding her, she will be banging against the window with all that she has, the binder in one hand, her eyes wide and frantic. someone has to be close by, they have to, and if she can just get their attention...

when you finally make eye contact with her, she'll do everything she can to communicate the code, the lock, the urgency in the need to act. her eyes will tell the whole story - her fear, yes, but also how much she hopes you'll listen. and that, if you either leave her there or decide to go search around the other side of the building, that you'll make it back in time.

she is trying to ignore the faces in the water, the sudden movement just under the surface, but it gets harder and harder to do the closer they get.

all she can do is wait for you to come back, and hope that there isn't anything waiting for you around the other side. ]

[churnback]

[ He's not in here for any noble reason. Curiosity brought him to start with, the minute he clocked that message out on the forum. He wants to know the scope and extent of this world he's been dropped into. What is he dealing with? Nothing is learned by sitting back and waiting, and he's not that kind of guy.

It seems harmless enough, and literally just a here's what's up, go take a look kind of message. But for all he knows there's an ambush on the other side of that message. That possibility wouldn't and doesn't deter him, it's just a consideration, a thought that turns around in his head as he makes his way over. The rain is a new and old sensation; familiar, intense and unrelenting. He doesn't turn back, though, he goes forward, he makes his way inside. The medicine will be good to have. Of course, he's not thinking about it going anywhere in particular at the moment except out of this building. What he does with it later, well, that comes...later.

The sequence of events from there is swift, and when he realizes he's trapped, it's the closest he's felt to something like a creeping dread. Not fear, not panic, but the knowledge of being held here now against his will, and the sensation of discomfort it pulls forth is not something he feels often.

It's also, of course, not enough to stop or slow him down, even if that creeping dread now seems to leave a lump behind in his throat, when he starts searching for a damn code and he sees — things he shouldn't be seeing. Things this place couldn't, shouldn't know. He can't be losing it already.

There's gotta be — his thoughts come to a halt quickly when he catches sight of the woman nearby. How'd he miss her before? Hell of a place to be stuck with someone. The water seems to have a life of its own, and they're quite literally caught in the churn. He thinks he should make his presence known, but as he slowly moves towards her, Amos catches the way she seems stuck in something far away. A memory, maybe, or something worse. ]

Hey. Hey. Can you hear me?

[pagings]

[ she doesn't see him when he enters, doesn't even know he's made it inside. her trance has her completely, a kind of distant echo of sirens and the cold feeling of rain, of the fall snap, of a dark road. she sees out of the corner of her eyes a kind of rotation of colored lights, the police radio, and smell of gasoline and burnt rubber and newspaper headlines, stories, about how she's killed her brother. how she killed her parents, too. her entire family's downfall came at the hands of one drug-addled girl and how she's always hated them, she's always been hated by them, now's not really a good time, Karen-

the water picks up speed, and maybe even rises, and karen's body begins to sway a bit with it. there's a threat she could easily get swept away by the current, but she holds to the spot, her fingers tight as they grip the damening notepad, lines and lines of you don't belong, you've never belonged, they wouldn't care if you left and never came back written over and over and over in her own handwriting, and she doesn't know how.

she didn't notice that someone else joined her in this room, doesn't even recognize he's there even as he gets closer. hey, hey, can you hear me? she does, kind of, like someone speaking through a thick glass or water. her eyes are still a little glazed as the water seems to get faster, again.

he might need to some shake her out of whatever this is- before the water takes her with it. ]

the code

[diametrically]

[ To anyone who knows Cassian, it should come as very little surprise that the minute 'medicine' and 'help' were in the same message on the Forum that he would be unable to help himself from venturing out to find it. Is this place lawless and cutthroat with everyone looking out for themselves? Yes. But that doesn't mean that he can simply turn a blind eye to anyone in need. The thought of someone in need of their medicine tugs at the wound in his heart that has never healed which is exactly how he finds himself here.

When he manages to make his way into the facilities he's drenched, but it doesn't take him long, not with determination, a little luck - and the distinct sound of frantic pounding. Drawing his blaster he rounds the corner a little more cautiously than before only to immediately making eye contact with the source of the sound: a wide-eyed woman holding something up to the glass.

A quick scan of the hall confirms there's no other soul waiting to ambush him and that's enough for him to holster is blaster and rush forward. It doesn't take him long to decipher what has to be done and that yelling is't going to do anything to serve them. Eyes dart from her in what he hopes is reassuringly before back towards the binder, missing the way the water seems to still and stare. As he mutters under his breath to himself the sequence of abstract lines and shapes there is one more thing that he needs to try and confirm.

What's the likelihood that she knows sign language? Slim; it wasn't common either and varied across the galaxy and he doesn't have time to figure out whether she does or not. Instead he whips out his phone quickly typing: ]

do you know where the panel or computer is?

wildcard

[motiontocompel]

The blackout had lasted longer than expected and Foggy finds himself mourning the items he'd just purchased beforehand as he discarded them into the trash. With the power out and his fridge already dangerously close to the FDA-approved cutoff for keeping food safe, he's got little choice but to toss away what he'd worked hard to obtain.

It's frustrating, if not downright depressing, but he tries to keep a positive mindset. He still has some canned goods — items saved for emergencies just like this — but that certainly won't last him until his next meager pay. Worse yet, his contract is about up, meaning he'll need to find another temporary source for work.

He's just coming back inside, wiping his hands against his ill-fitting jeans, when he thinks he hears a familiar voice. The low tone sends a chill right up his spine — an undeniable tingle of reminiscence — and he lets his feet move him towards it, eventually catching the movement of hair, straight and golden, like shafts of wheat glistening in the sun. Tall, strong, beautiful. The way this woman holds herself nearly solidifies his certainty even before seeing her face.

"Karen?" They're eight doors apart but the expanse feels massive and Foggy's afraid she might be some kind of illusion. Nothing so good ever comes this easy, right? And yet... "Karen Page?" His voice is almost trembling, but he's asking less tentatively, more firmly and with no lack of hope. "Please tell me that's really you."

FOGGY!!!!!!!

[pagings]

The blackouts and inconsistent electricity has made it that Karen has all but given up trying to hold onto anything that could go bad. She knows she's in a special situation, working at the pavilion effectively means she can sneak food during her shifts and then doesn't have to keep much else in her place. It means she can get out without too much packing and can get on the road when she needs to, whenever a Forum post catches her eye or a supply run is made obvious. Then- hopefully- it means her place, her room, is less likely to be targeted. Not worth the effort to break in when there isn't anything in there to steal.

She's on her way down to her car when she hears her name being called from down the hall - and it has Karen stilling, her backpack over one shoulder, her keys in her hand. There wasn't any call, wasn't anywhere for her to go, but she's decided that this blackout has lasted a little too long and she'd be safer in her car than up here, and that was really all she had in mind. Her neighbor had caught her in the hallway, had been asking her about when she'd be back, and Karen liked her neighbor - a nice older woman, whose grandson sometimes came by during these blackouts to watch over her. Karen had been mentioning she was going on an errand, going to grab some food, could pick up something if the woman needed it (she wasn't going to grab food, but if the woman needed something...), and that was about it.

Until the voice, her name. Something just familiar enough about it that Karen's heart stops in her chest. She turns, her eyes wide, scared of what she might see, scared if she was imagining things, scared-

"F-Foggy?" His name catches a bit in her throat. He'd been the last person she saw before she woke up here, that late night in his parent's butcher shop, when she'd told him everything. And now?

It doesn't feel real. Seeing him doesn't feel real. She's rooted to the spot for a few moments until her neighbor closes her door and the click of the lock has Karen finally moving, taking one step, then two, and then all but running to close the distance down the rest of the hall- throwing her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.