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

©

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

Jason Todd | DC comics

[tirejacked]

1. The Blocks: you got games on your phone?

[All in all, he's actually had rougher awakenings. And after a...productive conversation with the illustrious Mr. Crook—(kind of on the nose, isn't it?)—he's more than ready for a lay of the land. Takes the offer for a serviceable enough motorbike to get him to town and figures he'll sweat the catch later.

(A loan for a ride and a clean bill of health, buy-one-get-one free? That sounds like a racket if he's ever heard one. But six months is a lot of time to figure out how to get clean before the legbreakers come collecting.)

If nothing else, Jason's in his element in the city. Better to spend his time getting a feel for it. So: some few days after his arrival, he's perched with deliberate ease at the edge of the roof of one of the crappy motels. Not exactly drawing attention to himself, but easy enough to spot if anyone were coming out for a smoke break, or some stargazing, or some better signal on their spotty new cell phone. One tallish guy in a leather jacket and jeans, the red hood of his sweater pulled up over his head to fend off the light mist of evening rain. Maybe 20 years old or so. Leaning against a wall, legs stretched out in front of him, boots crossed at the ankle.

He's been out here a bit, apparently. He's a little damp, there's a wilting paper cup of what passes for shitty hotel coffee sitting cold beside him, and he's turning his phone over in his hands kind of restlessly as he watches the people pass by below. It's got a good view of the street and the sporadic evening traffic. Since he's got himself some company, he spares a glance over. Then he turns his attention back toward the street, though he gives the newcomer a lazy wave of his phone.]

Y'want a go? I'm really racking up a high score on snake.

[That's...obviously not why he's up here. But he doesn't exactly seem inclined to share the details of his little stakeout, just yet.]

2. The Blocks: Blackout.

[The unreliable power isn't much of a shock, given the state of the accomodations. Sure is a pain in the ass, though, especially at times like this, when the whole East side seems to have gone dark. Doesn't exactly do a lot for a sense of security. Case in point: There's a sudden bit of a commotion from down the hall. Something slamming. Raised voices. Hard to tell the tone at a distance—it's anger, maybe. Fear, probably. Familiar enough to know it can't mean anything good.

Tracking down the right hallway, things seem to quiet just as he gets close. But he's not the only person who'd come looking. (Or hey, maybe you just have noisy neighbors. It's a tough market for motels these days.)

He looks between the door and his company in the hall. (It's oddly quiet, now. Suspiciously so, even. But this was the right direction.)

Wry—]

So, are you gonna knock, or should I?

[Only seems polite. (He's...probably joking.)]

3. The Fringes : Sealed in

[He's kicking himself, really, for not seeing this coming. Going in without an exit strategy is about as rookie a mistake as you can get. But in his defense—well. Not like he's working from the most advantageous of positions. Nothing to do but adjust on the fly, which means figuring out what the hell to do about the lockdown. The computer is nice enough to give a hint, so all he's got to do is find the code. (Easy, right?)]

3.a : [Given the state of the sloshing cargo, it stands to reason this is some sort of medical facility. There could be plenty of plausible reason for the the spiky scrawled notes that keep cropping up as he flips through files. One of them, though, stops him before he can skim past it.

Tell me. How does that feel?

Oddly phrased, but plausible enough. Until he flips it over.

Forehand? Or—

The rest of it is blotted out by apparent water damage. (Doesn't matter, he knows what it said.) He's frozen a moment, free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Or—it feels like a moment. But the water creeps up, and he doesn't seem to notice.]

3.b: [He'd been nice and quiet about it at first. Did the methodical searching thing. But then the water starts to rise. And shift. And the third time he catches himself hackling at the blurry bobbing faces in the water he starts losing his patience. There's a time for quiet, and there's a time for hauling the filing cabinet off its feet and chucking it experimentally at the window just to cover your bases, and he figured the seeing things that shouldn't be there means he's hit plan B about fifteen minutes ago.

For all the good it does—the cabinet bounces off the window with a horrific crash but the glass is stubbornly unscathed. The splash it makes as it falls back into the floodwater sends even worse waves lapping up and down the walls, the scattered furniture.

Okay. Plan C, then.

But also: What the fuck.]

4. The Fringes: Set Free

[Or, some other poor sap has landed themselves on the interior. And given the frankly nightmarish look of things on the inside, they could really stand some springing before things get worse.

Luckily, Jason's a pretty clever guy. Even better—Bruce taught him to read lips when he was twelve years old. Assuming the person stuck inside has lips...it doesn't take too long to communicate the problem. Shouldn't be hard to address it.

But he's then gone from the window for...a minute. Comes to the window to doublecheck the sequence, looking kind of harried, jaw tight, eyes gone flinty, and then ducks off again. The next time he comes back, it looks a hell of a lot like someone's worked him over while he was gone. A split in his lip, new bruise already going dark on a cheekbone. He hammers a frustrated fist into the window like it'll catch any attention through the soundproofing. Then, when he's sure he's got it— he raises a hand. Leather gloves all slick with rain and...something else. Don't ask. (Or, do. But y'know, not right now.)

He holds up 3 fingers. Then 4. Almost there. He needs those last two symbols again, bud, please and thanks.]

((a/n:If you're not feeling these feel free to wildcard me, or tweak them a little to fit, or give me a prompt or an idea and I'll write you a custom starter for it! lets get weird. alternately hit me up oocly and we can hash something out/I'll tag into you. I'll be getting to things properly after work and into the weekend! (ง•̀.•́)ง))

Rooftop

[godjr]

[ Jack doesn't sleep much or at all so he got a motel room anyway to have shelter and in cast his family shows up, but he doesn't have much to do. The power went out so his access to television went with it, and he decided to wander around, see if he can understand the place he's in better. He's never been in a city before, it is very large and loud. There are so many people. He likes that, he likes watching them.

He went up to the roof to stargaze and think about the situation since he can't seem to find any of his family. They were about to go into the biggest battle of their lives, but he showed up here instead, which worries him. Maybe God made this happen, and he had one universe left that he didn't destroy, so he put Jack here, far away from the others. That is a bad option. He doesn't like it.

He's in white and beige so he stands out in the darkness and he notices the other person up there with him. It's nice whenever he isn't alone, even if the other person is being quiet, but he speaks instead, and Jack brightens. He doesn't like to bother people but if they start it, it's much easier. ]

What is snake?

[ Jack was given one of the phones too and he takes it out, walking over to him. These phones are very old, or at least he thinks they must be, since they don't resemble the phones he's used to at all. He hasn't used it much because he has nothing to dial. ]

[tirejacked]

[Look. Say what you will about them, but there's something about city ambiance that's hard to beat. Jason was born and bred in Gotham, and he spent a lot of time away, recently. But there's something about it he really can't escape. Even this place can't really hold a candle.

Neither here nor there, though. Not tonight.]

Seriously?

[So much for the classics. He cants his head a bit, studying the guy for a bemused little beat before landing his attention on the phone Jack is holding. Different model. Lets see.

He knocks his knuckles against the ledge next to him. Little bit of an offer, if Jack wants to risk a sit on the edge. He's not exactly looking for company, but he's plenty new in town, and apparently his current business isn't pressing enough to take the whole of his attention. (Hence: Snake.) Doesn't hurt to make friends while he's biding his time.]

Pop a squat, big guy. Lemmie see what you're working with.

[He even holds a hand out for Jack's phone, fluttering his fingers a little in expectation. An implied offer to have a look, examine his idle entertainment options. Of course, that'd be a real great way to get your phone disappeared in certain necks of certain woods. These ones, even. (Nowhere to go from here but down, sure. Not an issue for everyone, though. Current company included.) So Jason's not exactly gonna begrudge the guy for opting to hold on to it, instead.]

[godjr]

[ Jack isn't afraid of heights since he can fly so he's comfortable sitting down on the edge with his new friend. He sometimes got to play phone games but Snake is far too old for the modern day phones. He was restricted after he accidentally started playing a game where you could buy too many things in it. They didn't need to set up parental controls, he is respectful and didn't go looking after that.

He hands the phone over, eager to learn whatever Snake is. It does remind him of their burner phones, they had more than a few of those for when it needed to be thrown out quickly. But it's the only form of communication outside of face-to-face he has now. ]

I've been looking at the forums here. I was hoping a Google would exist so I could ask questions.

[ Jack has a lot of questions. His attempts at them have been pointless because of the way the network is set up here. He cannot ask the computer any more how to do something. It's why he thinks that his job interviews went so awkwardly. He couldn't ask it the right ways to get a job. Instead there were entire gaps of time that he just stared at the man without blinking. ]

Someone was showing me something called a Walk Person but they didn't explain what it did.

[ He means Walkman but can't remember the name of it. Maybe Jason will know what it is. Sam usually answers things for him so he's a bit adrift here. He kicks his feet casually underneath him where they're dangling over the edge, looking up at the stars again. It's not as clear as the skies in Kansas, which one shining star could light up the night. ]

fringes, 3b!

[carmesi]

( ooc: hello! same wanda as emp, just a username rename. )

( there is someone trapped inside, and water is quickly rising. she's seen this scenario play out in horror movies, in thrillers, and the one thing she remembers from her training as an avenger is that—under this scenario—you have to remain calm.

a cabinet gets tossed towards the window, and wanda flinches, but nothing happens.

she motions to the person. )

Hey!

[tirejacked]

[Hello Wanda. Consider: He is very wet. There are spooky faces in the water. He has history with being locked in random buildings ticking down to certain death. So you can imagine the kind of stress he is under.

The choppy water only seems to kick up at his agitation, even as the splash from the furniture settles. He takes a deep breath. In through the nose. Out through his teeth. Mostly to himself—]

Y'know, I was really hoping that was gonna work.

[It would simplify things considerably. Sometimes you really can just Occam's razor your way out of a deathtrap. Just...not this time.

On the upside, in the time it takes him to gripe and the time it takes the water to settle, he realizes there's someone in the window all of a sudden. His surprise is visible. A sudden blink, shoulders gone stiff. He stares— maybe a second too long, like he's trying to decide if she's really there. (But, y'know. She's still there when he locks eyes with her, and none of the shifting, drowning phantoms in the water have stuck around this long.)

Okay. O-kay. Great. Super. He can work with this. Where the hell did he put that binder.

He holds a hand up, in a hold on sort of gesture, fixing Wanda with an urgent look. And, sharpish, as he turns back toward the rest of the flooded room—]

Don't move! Stay right there.

[Not that she can hear him, but. Y'know, they'll figure that out.]

[carmesi]

( she figured, by the way that the crash had made no sound but a muffled thump, by the way that the water rising doesn't sound like anything at all, that she can't hear what's going on on the other side of the window; seeing the guy talking but not hearing his words confirms this for her, as did his delayed reaction to noticing her after she had called to him.

wanda glances at his hand, at his gestures, don't move.

right, she's going to try and follow him a little by walking the edge of the window a bit, but her eyes are fixed on him for any further instruction.

(with his back turned to her, wanda tries pressing a hand to the glass, spool some of her red swirls and sparks to it, but finds it heavily resistant. she'll just have to wait for him—) )

Are you seriously looking for something right now?

( she mutters under her breath, getting a little anxious about the whole water-rising situation. )

blackout

[nerine]

[Monts usually isn't one to get up from bed just because of a few noises. Considering the circumstances, it seemed worth it to investigate just in case. She doesn't want to be neighbors with potential axe-murderers after all.

She should have expected that she wasn't the only one driven by some curiosity. Monts shrugs in response to the other man's question.]

Depends. Should it be a friendly knock or an angry landlord-esque type of deal?

[tirejacked]

[To be honest, he's kind of surprised to see her up and about. It's dark, just the ambient light from the sky and the distant not powerless parts of the city filtering in. Not impossible to navigate once your eyes have adjusted, but not the best kind of take a stroll situation. Not alone, for sure. (Pot, kettle.)

At least he knows he's not the only one who heard the noise. He hums, pitched low. Presses an ear against the door like he's listening for voices. Footsteps. Something.

Nothing, though. Spooky. Absently—]

Never was much for either, if I'm honest.

[Landlords. (Or, y'know. ...friends...) It's only gone more quiet behind the door, and he doesn't much like it. But the walls here are thin, the surrounding rooms are theoretically occupied, and no offense to Monts, but she doesn't immediately strike him as someone who can hold their own if this goes south. Going in guns blazing with this much potential collateral damage is a bit much even for him. (...Metaphorical guns. Whatever dropped him here left most of his arsenal behind. Pretty rude of it. He's still working on building that back up. Doesn't mean the locals have the same problem, though.)

Instead, he fishes into a seam of his jacket and produces a couple slim little hooks.]

Maybe we try the subtle approach instead, huh.

[Shouldn't take long. These locks aren't exactly masterworks.]

apologies for lateness i was braindead

[nerine]

[Her sense of fear, could kindly be called, stunted. What's a walk in the dark when one isn't concerned with the consequences tripping and bumping into things?

She's careful enough, but perhaps on the side of careless if she were to be honest with herself. However, she's not sure if she's as daring as Jason if those little hooks say anything.]

You want to... Break in? That's a little more extreme than what I was thinking.

[But she doesn't sound opposed. With her arms crossed, she thinks before continuing to speak.]

Mm. How about this. I'll knock and if no one answers, then you can commit a crime.

the blocks: black out

[krazed]

Do you usually run headfirst into trouble? Because that speaks to a sense of savior complex at the expense of yourself and your own safety.

[ Harley's just passing by with an errant glance to the direction of the screams, more nosy than anything. Her genuine concern only aligns with visibility and personal reference and seeing as she has neither she's no more than a rubber necker on a highway or some parallel to that kind of looky-lou. ]

Which usually stems from low self-esteem and poor emotional health.

[tirejacked]

[Look. Just because that's probably true doesn't mean you need to say it, Harley. He didn't crawl his way out of his grave to get psychoanalyzed, thanks!!!

In particular—he scoffs sharply at savior complex, like she's said something pretty funny. But the thing is, he lived in places like this as a kid. Sometimes you holed up and fell asleep to the backdrop of gunshots and shouting and just had to hope it didn't come around to you. Sometimes you weren't that lucky. So, y'know. Personal reference enough.

Apparently unconcerned with the state of his emotional health, he shrugs. Though it's enough to earn her a longer look. It's dark, just barely enough reflected light from the walls and the windows and the sky to get the gist. He doesn't recognize her, he's sure. But there's something about the airs. (It's the accent, mostly. Right neck of the woods for nostalgia. He'd been away from Gotham for a long while, even before he ended up here.)

Either way, he seems to settle on ditching the knocking entirely in favor of getting the lay of the land. Like any well-adjusted guy his age who definitely doesn't need psychoanalyzing, he keeps a set or two of lockpicks stashed in the lining of his jacket. He fishes for one in his sleeve. And as he does, conversationally—]

Maybe I just like trouble.

[(This...does not rule out the poor emotional health.) But hey, maybe he's just taking advantage of the commotion. Maybe nosiness is just its own reward. You don't know.]

[krazed]

[ Everyone is psychoanalyzed graves or not, including herself, self-evaluation was done on the regular but never applied. His scoff doesn't go unnoticed but Harley's more interested in her new world of bubble gum that tastes like the sins of forefathers long gone and grape to really care.

She blows a bubble. Pops it. Then works on chewing the rubber back down again. Rubberier than ever kind of chiclet she's had before. ]

Maybe I do too, but if we get to the source and it's boring or I don't get to blow off steam will it even be worth it? Or maybe it's a trap. Either way, you didn't answer the question.

set free

[faithfall]

[ There are faces in the water, waiting for him to join them, as he should have long ago.

Motion catches his attention and Adrian looks up, blinking as if he's just come out of a daze. He'd stayed by the window, but he had been lost in reverie between one visit and the next, staring down into the depths of the rising water.

The darkness poses no impediment to his sight; he can see that the man is hurt. Who or what could be responsible? He searches the darkness behind his would-be rescuer, and then his face, as if taking inventory of the new marks. A question for another time, he supposes, if he doesn't end up drowned regardless of the man's valiant efforts. The water is nearly halfway up his chest already, and still rising. He'd barely noticed.

He curses under his breath, holds up a finger to ask the man to wait, then dives under to retrieve the binder that had fallen out of his hands, dragged off by some unknown current. When he resurfaces, coughing for breath, he holds it up against the window, doing the best he can to press it against the glass without letting it slip.

There's little time left. All of that magic, all of that sacrifice, and for what? To put this man in harm's way because of his own foolishness?

Adrian swallows the panic and guilt in his chest, schools his expression. When he removes the binder from the glass, he presses his gloved hand against it. ]

Be careful, please. I'd not trade your life for my own.

adrian baby boy... &I'm so sorry for him

[tirejacked]

[The hell of it is, this shouldn't be hard. The code is six whole "digits" long. But then he's at the panel, and things start to slip out on the edges. He loses track of what he's been doing. Blinks his eyes open to blood in his mouth and the afterimage of burning green behind his eyes and no idea how much time has passed since he'd struggled his way through the creeping dark. It's making him twitchy in a way he really doesn't like. Frustrating the part of him that know how this should be playing out, that really can't stand getting his control ripped away from him. But it only really seems to make him more stubborn about seeing it through.

Adrian takes an alarming little dip into the drink, and for a heartbeat Jason thinks he's finally actually fucked this up. But then the guy comes sputtering back up, and okay. Third try is the charm and all. Lets make it the last.

Soundproofing or no, he gets enough of the gist of that very selfless ask. Here's an answer that doesn't need volume—He very pointedly rolls his eyes. Give him a little credit, bud. Rather than entertain this self sacrificing bullcrap, he taps at the window where the binder is as Adrian has it up to the glass.]

Hold it right there. Don't move.

[Very normal rescuer behavior so far, right? Wrong! Alarmingly, he rolls up a sleeve, draws an oddly waved knife and... starts tracing out an extremely shorthand version of the code onto the back of his arm.

Not in very much detail, just enough to recognize them on the console when he gets there. (And not enough to draw a ton of blood—he's not a masochist, thanks.) Enough of a scratch to catch his eye if he's forgotten he's done it. He could try a bit of debris, a scrap of paper. But given the way the past few attempts had ended, he's not feeling like taking many chances. Last time he only got halfway through before the rest of it slipped through his fingers. It's the best way to make sure he's not going to lose it.

Drawing horrible eldritch sigils on himself with his own blood is fine, probably. (You've seen Memento, right Adrian? No?)]

JASON!!! (he's perfect)

[faithfall]

[ Really—! Adrian huffs theatrically in return, though there's some relief in his expression that he can't hide. He holds the binder up again and watches when the man begins to roll up his sleeve. A spell of some sort, perhaps..?

His eyes catch on the knife blade, understanding all too quickly. He nearly fumbles the binder in his haste to bang on the glass, catching it one-handed at an awkward angle that allows Jason to continue none the less. Golden light flares for less than a second, in his face and behind his head, his true nature bleeding out of him with a sudden spike of anxiety.

All in all, he's about as effective as a bird thrashing in a pond. ]

What are you doing? You have no idea what you might bind to yourself—!

[ Later, perhaps, he will reflect on the irony. How he would have, and has done, much the same and worse. How his friends might have felt in those moments. How it's different, because this too-good stranger isn't him.

He's about to try fumbling the binder closed again — difficult without losing it, with the water so high — when he finally gets a good look at what Jason is doing. The symbols are incomplete. That isn't... quite as bad. Probably? There's no sense in stopping him when he's already come this far in mutilating himself.

Though the rest was only a flash, the tiny freckles across the bridge of Adrian's nose continue to glow in the darkness, making it impossible to hide the flush of indignation they represent. ] This is your idea of careful?

finally crawls my way in late, rooftop

[frostfist]

[ After so long spent at the bottom of the ocean, Wriothesley decides it's time for a change of pace and heads to the roof of the dingy motel he's been temporarily staying at instead. He can't claim to be a particular fan of heights but it's always good to try new things.

Except it seems someone's already beat him to the punch. He pauses in the doorframe, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark blue hoodie and the other still on the knob of the door. ]

And here I was worried you'd had enough of life in the city and was planning on ending it all.

[ A joke, said lightly. It's a common enough occurrence in film, but the guy on the roof casually propped against one wall seems too relaxed to be pondering anything quite so dire. That, and the rooftop here's like, what, only a couple stories tall? Not exactly the best choice unless he's looking to rack up even more medical debt.

He nods towards the street. ]

Anything interesting going on down there?

how very dare (I say, after I squandered my afternoon napping)

[tirejacked]

[He is, in fact, entirely too comfortable up here to look like much of a risk for a short walk and a long fall, but. Hey, you never know. If nothing else, the joke seems to land. Earns Wriothesley a sharp exhale and an appropriately amused glance back up from the ledge.]

Oh yeah? [Worried about little old him? He's touched. Ironic—] Were you gonna tell me life is worth living?

[Cute.

He could make a joke here about death only really slowing him down a little, but there's better things to do. For instance—oddly obliging, he gestures a little toward the ground, at a slightly-dilapidated looking establishment on the other side of the street. Another motel—if one even less impressive or comforting than the one they're standing on, if that's even possible. A small, fenced-in parking lot.]

Green pickup has been here three out of the last four nights around this time. Does a couple laps of the block first and leaves before sunup, so I don't think he wants to be seen. Either he's got reason to think he's being followed or he's seeing someone he shouldn't.

[Could be either. Welcome to the Panorama edition of Days of our Lives, Rizzo. You asked!]

[frostfist]

[ And, obligingly, the artist formerly known as Wriothesley and now known as Rizzo pulls away from his cozy spot by the door and closer to the ledge, peering down at the aforementioned green pickup.

With a shrug: ]

I could, but I doubt it'd mean much coming from a stranger.

[ Archons know he's given enough pep talks in his life, but usually only after an understanding of the person he's trying to pep up. Would he have given one if this seemingly easy-going stranger had been about to take a step off? Sure, because he does edge towards optimism eight days out of ten, but he's enough of a realist to know that the results would have been middling at best. So really, it's a good thing that they can chitchat about suspicious-looking vehicles instead of the beauty of life.

Anyway. Back to the truck. ]

He ever bring anything when he swings by?

[ How dramatic of a production are we talking here? ]

1.

[eyesite]

( ooc: 100% up to you if you want to have jason resist the compulsion or not, be aware that it happened or not, etc.! whatever makes the most sense and/or is the most fun for you. )

( john had actually been aware of a watcher on the rooftop before he’d even entered the motel—before he’d climbed up the stoop to the door, even. one doesn’t become the envoy of a Dread Power encompassing all fears of being watched, being judged, and having all of one’s deepest and darkest secrets known without having an innate sense for how it feels. when he first feels it brush past him, feeling like an errant, chill wind that sent a shudder down his spine as he walks down the street toward the motel he’d been staying at, there’s something almost nostalgic to it—can one be nostalgic for something that frightens them? though this particular fear ends up falling into a strange feedback loop which eventually churns that wariness into something more like… well, comfort. he’s not exactly pleased at that, but it’s better than the aches, pains, and terrors that accompany so many of the other marks and memories that have been inscribed onto him.

he could just leave it well and truly alone. perhaps he should. perhaps that was the better decision? instead, he finds his footsteps leading him toward the stairwell rather than the hallway to his own room, uncertain if it’s kinship or competition he feels in knowing that the place that he is staying is playing host to yet another who takes it upon themself to unduly observe. he is not ruled by his paranoias as he had once been, but he is also far from trusting. were he staying in this place on his own, his curiosity would probably just be… professional. as it is, he’s here with someone he cares for deeply, so it crosses a line over to over-protective.

in the end, when presented with the open-ended question of a mystery, he has a hard time turning away. that’s one of the reasons the Eye had ended up so fond of him, after all.

when he opens the door at the top of the stairs and exits onto the roof, the watcher he finds there is younger than he might have expected. his conviction almost wavers, or it might have if he weren’t deeply familiar with the distinction of someone watching casually or someone watching with intent. the Archivist’s gaze moves slowly from jason’s face to his hand as he approaches, taking note of the phone. his stare tends to elicit its own bristling of wariness and paranoia—especially when suspicious. )

No. I’d rather not.

( hands sunk into the overlarge coat he wears against the misting rain, he stops a short distance away from jason, idling similarly close to the wall though further away from the roof’s edge. he contemplates how best to approach this… though, really, when has subtlety ever really worked for him? )

What are you doing up here?

( where his words before had been normal, mundane (albeit somewhat clipped), they now buzz with an oppressive sort of energy—a pressure not unlike a barometric shift before a storm. he likely wouldn’t have taken such a brute, direct approach, but, well… john’s been spending the last week or two coming down from one hell of a god complex, so it’s still putting its finger on the scale of his decision-making more often than he would like to admit. )

1/2

[tirejacked]

(( I had to consider this long and hard and have predictably opted for the worst of all worlds. as always lmk if this needs an edit etc!!!))

[Jason’s lived a dangerous life. Growing up fending for himself (and Catherine, for a time,) in Crime Alley. Working as Batman’s partner. Hopping around the globe to learn from the best of the worst, and cleaning up after himself when he’s done. All of it fosters a healthy sense of paranoia in its own right. And it’s kept him alive, so far. (…save for, of course, the crucial time he trusted the wrong person. And then it didn’t.)

So he’s got a good sense for his own sensibilities. Usually he has a good sense for why he might be getting a bad vibe for a person, or a situation. But if you asked, he wouldn’t quite be able to put a finger on what it is about this weedy looking guy that manages to set his teeth on edge. Buzzing at the fight-or-flight instincts in his hindbrain. Picking at the short hairs on the back of his neck.

Not right away, anyway.

So at first…John does his digging, and it does seem to take. All spooky supernatural nonsense that pushes past the sense of wary unease picking its way up his spine, and the conversation carries on with the same deliberate kind of nonchalance that had proceeded it.]

Me, I’m getting the lay of the land. Word is there’s a weapons dealer who’s got runners working this side of the neighborhood. But they change their routes often enough to—

2/2

[tirejacked]

[His teeth click together all of a sudden, and it’s like the violent slamming of a door. Cut off mid-thought, like he’s caught on too-late that he hadn’t meant to say any of that. He’s only human, after all. It’s not a hugely sensitive matter. He might have even shared (some vaguer version of the truth) with the class if John had asked him normally. Like a normal person.

(He’s only human. He does, however, possess the kind of indomitable will that makes a green lantern out of him in at least one far flung flavor of the multiverse. The pivotal practice with the kind of drilled-in mental defenses that Bruce had, (of course he had,) developed in case of this very kind of intrusion. Wouldn’t do if some random superpowered rogue could reach into his head and pick the Batman’s secrets out of the Boy Wonder, now would it.

And, well. When it comes right down to it, Jason’s just never been very good at being told what to do.)

He reacts visibly, and badly. Spine gone ramrod straight. Hands clenched tight into fists, phone forgotten. Expression ticking quickly over toward fury.

By the time John can clock it, he’s on his feet. He advances a step, reaches out whip-quick to grab John by the collar of his coat and haul him closer toward the edge of the building. (If not off the edge. …Yet.) Teeth bared.]

Oh, fuck you.

[Cute trick. He’s not sure what that was, exactly. But he can get the shape of it. He wasn’t born yesterday, y’know. ]

Y’wanna tell me why you think trying that crap was a good idea?

[eyesite]

( ooc: YESSSSSSS my favorite option )

( oh, sure, he could have just asked. you know, like a normal person. but if he had ever been that much of a normal person, he sure as hell isn’t one anymore—similarly, jonathan sims has never been known for his charisma either. when gallivanting around the globe, making his fumbling efforts to gather information and disrupt the other Powers’ rituals, there’d been enough instances in which the average person’s charity with him and his probing questions had run out (or not existed to begin with), and he’d had to… exert pressure. as time had gone on, his willingness to even give them a chance had dwindled, and at this point it barely even passes through his mind. he may have been in this strange plane of existence for a week or two, but he had spent God-knows-how-long roving through a hellscape of his own making as its own post-apocalyptic Antichrist (self-proclaimed, sarcastic). there, when he had wanted information, he took it. if something or someone presented themself as an obstacle, he removed it. after the grim severity with which he handled former enemies (and even former allies), cutting through the bullshit and compelling a simple answer doesn’t feel like too much of an overstep.

to say his perspective on the subject is warped would be a bit of an understatement.

the Archivist’s compulsion can be as understated as it is underhanded, tricking the mind into the same complacency it would answer any simple, non-privileged question with. this is the approach john had taken, phrasing the question as casual, even as he layered it with power. he is not surprised it works (as, to his eyes, jason seems to him like any archetype of the “punk kid”), though he seems more surprised by the answer itself. weapons dealer? he adjusts his mental measure of the young man. there’s enough confidence in his words to relay experience; he clearly knows what he’s talking about. though, really, john just finds himself relieved at how mundane the matter was. he’s already thinking of how to disengage and leave him to it—

that’s when his answer cuts off, and john can sense where this is going to go in the half-second afterward. he goes still, rigid; he’s cutting through the mental calculations to judge whether or not he might be able to back off faster than the young man could come after him, but qualities like “speed” and “strength” had never been his forte. he’s scarcely backed up half a step before jason is on his feet and closing the distance fast, and his second step back does little more than throw him off-balance when he’s grabbed by the collar and physically dragged over toward the roof’s edge.

that’s when he starts to get afraid. but it’s a very strange kind of fear, mostly because he never seems to lose the sense of lofty, unattached certainty he had had when compelling jason a moment ago. the dichotomy is bizarre. his breathing comes quick and shallow as he senses the yawning abyss of nothing open up behind his back; suddenly he is sat before michael crew again, trapped in a mental plummet at terminal velocity, and the inscribed fears of no fewer than three or four victims of the Vast resonate with that sensation in atonal symphony. without thinking, his hand flies to lock around the offending wrist in a dead man’s grip. he can fear the threatened fall (and he does; it’s evident enough in the anxiousness of his breathing and the occasional, sudden shudder of adrenaline), but he can also feel a calm resolve that it’s doubtful it would even kill him. that’s what does battle in his expression and in the dark intensity of his gaze, playing at such odds with the instinctual response of trauma.

his first response is a single, mirthless laugh. ) Well, I can’t say I’m known for my good ideas.

( he keeps a knife on him in his coat. he doesn’t want to use it. he’s not even really sure if he can—he’d used it to kill the man most deserving of it (and then martin had used it on the second most deserving), so using it against anyone else felt… wrong. even worse than reacting with violence seemed in this situation.

so just trying to pull something even more painful out of him was also out of the question. violence against the sanctity of the mind was just as terrible as violence against the body. sometimes more so.

he’s never been a particularly adept liar either, so… what, his last resort is probably just the honesty he had avoided using at the jump? oh, irony. )

Because I wasn’t about to ignore someone staking out the rooftop of the place I’m staying without knowing why he’s there.

( a little entitled. and also not very enlightening, given that much is obvious (except for perhaps the fact that john had already known he was up here?). after a moment of deliberation, he continues, and when he does, his tone of voice has softened. he’s filed away the more imperious edge to reveal something more heartfelt beneath. ) Someone is staying with me that I need to make sure remains safe. I—I had to. ( a beat, and, after searching jason’s face with dark, bottomless eyes, he continues on intuition rather than the certainty of Knowing: ) Surely you could understand something like that.

( the pressure of Knowing is far lesser here, in this place, around these people. the Eye had only amassed the knowledge it had over his world because it had existed just outside it for as long as there were animals conscious enough to feel fear. these new universes, though, and these new people… it knew remarkably little, and so did john. they both hungered to change that. just give them time. )

1.

[retrievalist]

Snake? Didn't think you were old enough to even know what that is, kid.

[ Though truth be told he's more surprised that the kid clocked him. Eliot doesn't sneak, he's not Parker after all, but his steps are always... controlled. And then three steps in this kid turns to him like it's nothing. Kid's not a spook though. Weight not distributed right for that, but... Eliot takes another look. Tilts his head a little, measuring the line of his shoulders, where the tension lies in his body. Spook-adjacent, he decides eventually, and then he lowers himself to the roof next to the kid, taking in the view of the parking lot. ]

You waiting on something?

[tirejacked]

[Spook-adjacent is as good way to put it as any. He's been doing this long enough that not enough sound pings at his attention just as strangely as too much. Most people land in a particular middle ground unless they're specifically trying to be quiet, or they've had to move that way for long enough that it's been drilled into a habit. You get a feel for it. This guy, he's leaning toward the latter. But he could be wrong.

Good a reason as any to feel him out. He spins the phone in his hands again. Answers with the same restrained irony that had posed the initial question.]

Well, I do like to appreciate the classics.

[Who doesn't know Snake. They've got 'em on phones, now, old man. Even in the retro spooky space future. There's no immediate change in his posture when Eliot joins him on the ledge, but his attention shifts. Gone from watching the passing traffic to eyeing him sharply.

After a moment's consideration...He shrugs.]

Could be I just like the ambiance.

[Dark and rainy and nestled several stories up in the crappier parts of town. Which, honestly...isn't too far off for nostalgia. Hard to beat Gotham for gloominess, but it's got a few of the airs.]

I'm thinking of taking up birdwatching. What d'you think?

[Another word for spook, in certain necks of certain woods. He'd picked that one up from Alfred, but mostly he thinks he's being funny. (No brightly colored birds or swooping Bats in these skies, he's sure.)]