TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025

[thediadem]

Test Drive ∞ May 2025

The First Collision

©

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

⇅ Top

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

©

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

⇅ Top

©

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

[pse]

[ Dean's day is about to be ruined by a toothpick, wielded with dangerous intent by an ambiguously super strong murder machine, being aimed right at his neck.

In her defense, Kimiko's day was ruined first. She was enjoying a few free samples and considering throwing her hat in the ring for the warehouse job when a very familiar face stopped her cold. Like everyone on her team, she knows the dips and planes and crags of Soldier Boy's gluttonous frowns like the back of her hand. She remembers a brief, searing moment of eye contact before his beams sent her flying through the wall, crumpled and battered and nearly destroyed.

Maybe this is why she's here, to finish what she started. It isn't fair she's here alone, without Serge and MM and Annie and even Hughie, but there's no point fretting over fair. She has a job to do.

Butcher's crusade, wormed its way into her brain by unchaining her, giving her food to eat and a bed to sleep in. The very fragile, oft corrupted, illusion of choice.

So, here she is. Killing the bad guy! Or, well, trying to.

Aiming a fist into Dean's stomach to distract him, Kimiko brings her arm down to plunge the greasy end of the toothpick into his neck as hard as she can.

Tale as old as time, true as it can be ♪♫ ]

[righteously]

( Boy oh boy oh boy, the good news is this: Dean's spent the entirety of the last year in 24/7 combat. His reflexes are the sharpest they've ever been, and he's been grappling with entities like werewolves, like vamps, monsters that all have super-strength that far outpaces him. He's familiar with the concept of not winning with raw strength, of redirecting energy instead, and that's the only reason why he doesn't take a toothpick to the throat.

The hit to the stomach lands, eyes go wide as the breath's knocked out of him with a guttural huph- and then both hands lock on her toothpick wrist as his body shifts to the left, encouraging her momentum to carry her clean past his neck and out into open air instead. Trying to fend off Kimiko is gonna be a lot like fending off four demons at once, except demons aren't immortal. Not with the right tools, anyway.

Not that he knows this.

He just knows crazy wow very strong lady suddenly attack oh no why, and improvised weapons are a saving grace. In this case, it's snatching up the metal tray those free samples come on, vaulting himself over the table to put it between them (to the tune of absolute squealing of the sample lady), and holding that tray up defensively in front of his face. )

Woah, lady, what the hell's your problem?!

[pse]

[ There's an unfamiliar twang edging around his voice that almost draws her up short. Her eyes briefly go wide, showing white; her brow briefly wrinkles.

No, it— it is Soldier Boy. It's him. And maybe this is a test, her last. If she kills him, she gets to go home. Grinding her teeth together, she punches straight through the metal tray with only faint redness at her knuckles the slightest indication that anything hurts. She's still recovering from the injuries that put her here; her muscles are, uncommonly, screaming at her for a break.

Kimiko ignores that plea.

Pulling her arm back, she tosses the tray to the floor. Pivoting on a heel, she throws herself at him. Her hands are tensed into claws and aiming for the throat.

At the other end of the market, the largest man most people have ever seen—both in height and girth—starts to make his way over with surprising subtlety. Stay tuned for that. ]

[righteously]

( She punches through the tray, his eyes go round as saucers, and that tray is immediately abandoned. Rest in peace, fallen soldier you served him... well, not at all, but at least it was the tray and not his face getting punched clean through.

Then she goes diving at him like a feral fucking panther, and his reflexes say stop, drop, and roll — and he does, right back out the other side of the table to where he started again, his clothes catching on the plastic table cloth and dragging it most of the way off the damn folding table. It spills out into the floor, taking the limit: 2 sign with it — serves it right for limiting his caloric intake, thank you very much. The whole thing might as well be set to the Benny Hill theme.

Dodge, duck, dip, dive, dodge. When he pops back up again, it's with his handgun held in both hands and trained directly on her, finger on the trigger, eyes wild, voice pitching a little lower. )

Lady, I will shoot you!

( Fair warning, just in case she's some coked-up tweaker on PCP. Usually a gun's enough to give those types a reason to hesitate. But then, there remains the possibility that she's not even human — and so the second she inches toward him again, he'll stand his ground this time and pull the trigger.

And when that proves to be completely ineffectual, he is, at last, properly and truly boned. He'd have had better luck if he kept running. )

[pse]

[ Her eyes register the gun, an out of sync little flutter of her eyelids as her hands pause in their trajectory. For a moment.

Bullets suck. They hurt like hell, and she usually has to dig them out at some point. One time, she did so without washing her hands first; the wound got infected and she had to dig the infected flesh out of her torso. Took her almost an hour, and the TV wasn't working so had to stare at the wall and Hughie hadn't been by to fix it and it was just an altogether shit sandwich of a shit day and she blames Soldier Boy for that too, why the fuck not.

Which is why she isn't deterred by the gun for longer than a split second.

One of the sample wenches left a meat tenderiser just sitting on a table. Kimiko, channeling her inner Jason Voorhees, picks it up and advances. ]

[righteously]

( Okay, so definitely not human. She can't be. That's the forward feral stalk of a creature that isn't afraid to die of bullets — either because they don't know the bullets in this gun have silver in them, or because they're a thing that only dies by beheading, salting, burning, a coin in the mouth, something, anything other than a projectile.

Shit. Alright.

He makes a call.

When he pulls the trigger, it's not to unload center-mass like he normally would. He quickly lines up his shot, and he squeezes. The bullet sails straight for her grip on the meat tenderizer. Either it'll take a couple of her fingers off or it'll just knock the damn thing out of her hand, he hopes — either one's a win if it means that thing stays far, far away from his skull.

Dimly, distantly, he registers the sound of shouting behind them. People are scattering, ducking for cover, running the hell away from the scene the moment gunfire fills the air. )

[pse]

[ The bullet, mercifully, goes straight through her hand. There's a grotesque spray of viscera and appendages as part of her hand is blasted off by the force of the bullet at this close of a range. Only her thumb and the bottom half of her palm remain attached to her wrist. The meat tenderiser drops to the floor with a loud, metallic thud.

Even as her face contorts with pain, fresh fingers are beginning to grow out of her hand. She cradles it close to her shoulder as this disgusting process occurs, glaring at Dean with deep scorn.

Remember our friend from earlier? Up close, it's even clearer he's closer to eight feet tall than seven and commands a presence like thunder, with a magnificent beard to match. He bellows— ] Enough!

[ Then, with a very manly nod of distant fraternity to Dean, he adds, ]

Say the word and I'll put her down. Always wanted a dark haired one on my wall.

[ Needless to say, Kimiko's glare swings around. She starts to kneel down, reaching for the tenderiser with her good hand... ]

[righteously]

( She's growing her fingers back. What the hell. She's growing her goddamn fingers back. Does he know anything that can regenerate that quickly? Leviathan, he thinks, but she doesn't have the right blood. No black goo, and she hasn't once flashed him the gross lamprey mouth, so not that. Then what?

Enough!

He swivels, leveling the gun at what his brain registers as a new potential source of threat, only to get that bro nod from the largest dude he's seen in a hot minute. Holy crap.

Always wanted a dark haired one on my wall-

He can't help it, it's out of his mouth in an instant: )

Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? ( Who just says that, and- ) Jesus Christ, has everybody in this goddamn city lost their entire friggin' mind? No- just- get the hell outta here before she Wolverines her hand back and rips your head off, she's not human-

( Eight feet tall or no, he's still a civilian. Being big doesn't mean jack shit if you're not trained, and it means even less against something inhuman.

It's this thought that makes him realize he can't leave, he can't run. If she's not hunting him, she's just gonna hunt someone else in this store full of random civilians. He can't let that happen. He's gonna have to figure this out himself. )

[pse]

[ With an unhappy twist of his mouth, the man shuffles quietly away again. (Bros know no means no.)

But Kimiko's starting to think things through a little, and she's very confused. He's not... He doesn't sound like Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy is angry and performative and his accent is basically identical to Hughie's. This man uses twice as many words as necessary to circle around to his point. There's no performance in it, no malice; just easily explained away frustration. She did come at him with, among other things, a tooth pick.

Her body language doesn't uncoil. She stays where she is, still cradling her bloody hand as it slowly grows new fingers. Her other hand digs into her pocket and pulls out her phone.

Now, because Kimiko can't talk, I'm going to cheat a little here. Without a way to charge her phone, it's at roughly 12% battery. With no service as well as no battery source, it's about as useful as an anorexic brick and she's kept it off, but close, just in case. It flickers reluctantly to life and she quickly scrolls past the glitching apps to the photo gallery. When she tosses it to Dean, he'll see something very close to this on the screen.

He'll have roughly ten seconds to look at it before the phone overheats, crashes, and turns off again. ]

[righteously]

( The tooth pick, he might argue, is playing second fiddle to the god damn meat cleaver right now — and both of those are taking a back seat to her bare fist punching clean through an aluminum serving tray. But sure, yeah, let's focus on any one of the three right now and call it bad manners.

Tensions do not ratchet down as she takes her time to grow her hand back. Every member of the crowd has cleared out, but no police sirens fill the air, no security guards storm the premises. This place is different, and a nearly-lethal altercation at the store must be just close enough for normal that until a body actually hits the ground, all things get a pass. At least for a few minutes, until the whole scene becomes too inconvenient for pedestrians that really need to get their grocery shopping done, anyway.

She searches out her phone, his gun doesn't leave its carefully trained trajectory directly at her face, but his eyes do. Every few seconds they dart around, searching out an answer in the environment. Salt, lighter fluid, anything flammable, something he can use, anything he can use here — only willing to stray for fleeting seconds before they flit back to her, waiting for her to make a move so he can react accordingly.

(And not wasting his bullets putting more into her, because he only came with a single mag full of them — and he's already spent one, which accomplished about as much as a Sock'em Bopper would have.)

Catching the phone is an instinct; looking down at it is another thing entirely. He almost refuses to, just in case it's a ploy. A trick, to make him take his eyes off of her. But she stands still, persistent, and eventually he can't help but glance down.

To his own face.

His one-handed grip on the gun wavers, the barrel dipping slightly as his expression contorts into something incredulous, bewildered.

And then the phone dies almost instantly, and his eyes are back on her, hard, gun aimed steady again. He grips the phone in his right hand, shakes it at her accusingly. )

What is this? How- was that a shifter? Friend of yours running around stealing people's faces? Why mine?

[pse]

[ And, with that, she's out of ways to answer him.

Still aware of the gun trained on her, Kimiko's lips thin and she glances around quickly. Seeing a little cup full up on toothpicks, ostensibly for the samples on the table that have now been abandoned by their vendor, she tips the cup over. The toothpicks spill out and she starts to push them together, using the slants and tips to shape out words. It's awkward, but it's all she has.

Eventually, Dean will see

BAD MAN

spelled out across the table with toothpicks.

Once that's clear, she gestures to the phone again. By now, her hand is largely back to what it was an hour ago, albeit covered in blood. ]

[righteously]

( Oh god she's going for the toothpicks again- )

Hey, hey, hey-

( He interjects in a warning tone, right up until he realizes she's not actually assembling a highly lethal flurry of darts to ninja-star at his face or some such bullshit. After a wary moment watching her with absolute mistrust, curiosity begins to eat at him.

He edges closer, inch by inch, just enough so that he can get a better perspective on her toothpick message.

BAD MAN.

Bad man.

The man on the phone, with his face, bad. Something's clicking into place — something that would click faster if it weren't for the fact that he just watched her regrow a hand. He's come a long way in terms of accepting that not all things non-human are inherently bad. An angel is his best friend; a vampire is his brother now, by choice rather than blood. But all the same, old habits die hard, and he'd be wary of her, knowing what she can do, even if she hadn't just attacked him.

The gun still doesn't come down. His finger's off the trigger at least, but it's not enough. Not yet. )

Yeah? Well, from where I'm standing, you're not all that great yourself, sister.

( Considering the handful of near-death experiences he just had, maybe bad man is the real victim here? )

[pse]

[ Face scrunching up into a series of furrows, her shoulders finally come down from their defensive arc. She was wrong, and she feels stupid. MM and Serge would have been talking her down, telling her to stop, to think. To not be a monster. Annie would have been gentle and reasonable, using soft-spoken logic and forgiving her for the mistake.

But they aren't here.

By herself, Kimiko feels like exactly what the Shining Light wanted her to be: a dumb, blunt weapon.

You're not all that great, yourself.

She owes him an apology too, but how? It's too many words for the toothpicks; too many words for Kimiko. Part of her is stewing in petulant annoyance that he had the audacity to show up wearing Soldier Boy's face (an illegitimate grandson?) and shoot her and— and exist. Her day was going really well before she saw him.

Looking around, Kimiko exhales. The hall is a mess, thanks to them. She starts small: picking up the table he upended when this whole thing began. She even picks up the cloth that had been covering it, laying it back across the table and smoothing down any wrinkles or air pockets. ]

[righteously]

( And it's the most bizarre god damn thing he's seen in a minute — the way she's daintily tidying up her mess like she didn't almost rip his throat out with her bare hands. Righting the table, putting the shitty plastic table cloth back, smoothing it down. It's so utterly baffling to witness, he can't help but lower the gun finally.

It stays in hand, but it's not pointing at her — one step at a time, one inch at a time, things begin to deescalate. Now that his heart's no longer pounding its way out of his chest, all he can manage is deep, profoundly irritable confusion. )

Wait-wait- wait a second. That's it? You go from trying to John Wick me with a toothpick to- what- Mary Poppins? Are you freakin' kidding me? Lady, I think you owe me at least a couple of answers— and, like, a solid five of those weird awesome gross chocolate alien egg things because you totally smashed the last ones to bits.

( Incorrect; Dean smashed them to bits at some point during his table vaulting. But he's blaming her, because she deserves it. Not even remotely the point, and also moving on before she can correct him on it- )

Who was that? Why don't you talk? What does that mean, Bad Man, do I need to worry about that son of a bitch popping up wearing my skin?! And- most importantly, what the hell are you?

[pse]

[ In her quiet, remorseful tidying, Kimiko forgets that one of her hands is recovering from being blown off and is covered in half-dried blood. Seeing the bloody handprint smeared on the white table cloth causes a muscle to twitch in her cheek and her eyebrows to droop; only using her clean hand, she flips the cloth over and smooths it down for the second time.

All while this man, Soldier Boy's bastard great-grandson, is chattering away in her ear.

Once she's done with the table cloth, again, she pulls a hand-sized piece of paper, folded into quarters, out of her pocket and hands it to him.

My name is Kimiko.
I am mute but I can hear.
I am originally from New York, U.S.A., Planet Earth, year 2022.

So, you know. That clears everything up, right? ]