AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to August's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: DYSTOPIAN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Physical violence, monster violence, creepy ogre-like monster in link, being hunted by a monster.
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

With supplies low and food getting even more scarce, things in Deerington, Maine seem to be getting that much more tense. For those who pay attention to the habits of the townspeople, there’s something that might add to that feeling of stress; all of them seem to be involved in some kind of physical training, whether it’s archery, hand-to-hand combat, or fighting with firearms, they all seem like they’re getting ready for something and it definitely feels like it might be something big.

But no one wants to train against a townsperson - it’s highly likely they’re not going to fight fair with the way they’re all glaring at the Sleepers, as though they’re to blame for everything that’s been going on. Unless you’re sparring with people in your own backyard though, it seems like there isn’t any space to get your own training in.

The Betties are starting to pop up around town pretty regularly, waiting until they find Sleepers on their own, and quietly waving for them to come closer. “You need to prepare,” they’ll whisper to you in hushed urgency, before grabbing your hand to try and get you to follow them. If you fight, they’ll insist only once more, before leaving you alone. But there’s something inside of you urging you to comply and follow.

They’ll lead you down an alley, pushing aside a large dumpster, and revealing a trap door in the middle of the concrete. You’ve never noticed it before, even if you’ve been down this alley a hundred times. The Betty leading you leans down, pulling it open, and the ladder that goes into the tunnel is long and dimly lit. You could leave now, but the Betty will insist this is for the best.

“Knock twice. No more or less. Show them what you’re made of.”

Once you get to the bottom of the ladder, there’s an equally long hallway that leads towards a closed metal door. You knock twice and the door shakes before sliding open. The light that comes through is almost blinding with how bright it is compared to the dim tunnel, but as your eyes adjust, you can finally step in to a fully stocked training room.

There are instructors in basics for beginners, areas for intermediate, and most abundantly there are one-on-one sparring areas. The moment you come close enough, you’ll be immediately paired with another Sleeper, and the two of you will be locked in the room together to be observed. You could choose to not fight, of course, but you’ll be stuck there for a good long while if you do. It might be best to just get it over and done with.

So feel free to help others who seem to be struggling or show off your strength for everyone to see. It looks like everyone is going to need to be ready for some kind of fight.

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Maybe you got knocked out during a fight or maybe you fell asleep in your own bed - or maybe you don’t even remember closing your eyes at all, especially if you don’t usually have the ability to go unconscious for one reason or another. No matter the cause, everyone will wake up in the same place, surrounded by tall, thick hedges in the middle of a... maze?

It doesn’t take you long to realize you aren’t the only one waking up, too. Someone is next to you and it seems like you’re stuck finding your way out of here together. Literally. On each of your wrists is a metal cuff with a long chain connecting them. It can’t be broken, no matter how strong a person is or how powerful a weapon or spell they try to use against it. You’re in this together whether you want to be or not.

Once you can pick a direction to head in, it seems like this might almost be boring - that is until you start to hear the sounds of rustling leaves and breaking twigs. At first it seems like it might just be a trick to spook you, but the more you ignore it, the louder it gets, until finally you see it, charging down the row at you, scythe raised and ready to strike.

You can try to fight, of course, but it’s hard when you’re chained to one another. Learn to work together quickly and maybe you can make it work. It seems to go down with normal attacks, though it takes a long time to get the creature to fall unless you cut off the head. Ultimately your best interest might be set in running as fast as you can to get away. You can lose it in the maze if you’re quick about it. But then you might also be lost yourself.

If you do manage to lose the monster rather than killing it, stay quiet and you might not attract its attention again. It may take a while to find the end of the maze. The hedges feel like they stretch on forever and the sun is blaring down. You’d think there would be shade with all the height of the bushes, but there’s no relief from the heat. Hopefully you don’t burn easy.

When you get to the end of the maze, the two of you will come up on three doors. One door will lead out of the maze and back into the center of Deerington, cuff free. Another door will lead you right back to the beginning, forcing you to start again. And what’s behind door number three...?

The monster, of course.

Choose wisely.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

party poison | the true lives of the fabulous killjoys

[slaughtermatic]

i. blood in my veins

[Someone grabbing you and telling you where to go ain't a real good start to a safe interaction with Party Poison. The raygun at their side is already loose and ready to fire, 'cause this place just screams trap. Long dark alleyway with a ladder leading down to a tunnel and a door at the end? Knock twice, sure. That'll go great.]

[Still, at some point he ends up down there. Stands out, 'cause Party Poison always stands out, a pain in everyone's asses cloaked in color and sound. Eye-achingly red hair, jacket of blue leather, mask of vibrant yellow.]

[You get paired with Party Poison, you might have a hell of a time getting them to actually fight you fair and square. Poison occupies his time stalking around the perimeter of the room, testing the integrity of the walls and doors, getting antsier and harder to manage the longer they're stuck here.]

Ain't nobody's wind-up toy! [Yelling at the walls and doors don't seem to be doing much, but it's the only weapon they got. Least until he draws his raygun, bright yellow and fully-charged.]

[You get paired with Party Poison, he's gonna turn to you with a snarl.]

Don't even think of doin' what they want of us. Ain't gonna happen.

[Though they will shoot you if they've gotta. Just putting it out there.]

ii. the great unknown

[Shit just gets better and better. Waking up chained to some tumbleweed ain't Poison's idea of a great time, even if it was one of their crew. Don't remember who got the jump on him or how. Just that their head hurts like a zap-blast to the brain, and now they're surrounded by...]

[Green.]

[More green than Poison's ever seen in his life.]

Shit...

[It's quiet and awed as Poison's eyes flick along the thick, impenetrable hedges. Still, don't take long for that wonder to run dry when they realize they're chained to someone else and also? Stuck in a goddamned maze.]

[Don't take long for Poison to get angry, after that.]

Think they can toy with us, huh? We ain't playin' your fuckin' game.

[He'll keep this up until the maze monster comes barreling right for him. At which point, even Poison's spiteful, self-destructive ass will indulge in some self-preservational instinct to avoid getting bisected by a giant fuck-off scythe. Just don't expect him to be pleasant while any of it goes down.]

i

[cryogene]

What?

[Elsa isn't used to being spoken to that way, at least not by people from Arendelle. Her eyes widen and she steps back, clearly afraid. She'll stand her ground if she has to, but she doesn't want to. Elsa's afraid of what her ice powers will be like in a place like this.]

I don't want to hurt anyone. I promise.

[She's been holding her hands up since he has his weapon pointed at her but she remembers she's a queen and tries to act like one. She holds her head higher, even while she's trembling from head to toe. She can feel ice starting to gather at her fingertips, fear driving her ice to act out on its own. She can't let that happen here. She needs to maintain control.]

I'm afraid we're both victims of whatever is happening here.

Louis | The Walking Dead Game +Eway CRAU

[teamfun]

[ARRIVAL: VIDEO UN: BE-LOU-GA]

[Waking up in a different place isn't out of the ordinary for Louis. Wonderland makes it a monthly event, after all. He is used to there being some kind of cryptic-ass warning beforehand, but there's always the very real possibility that he slept through it. Just like he slept through getting a tattoo, apparently. Okay, cryptic deer tats. Sure. Why not? Regardless, Louis firmly believes there's no music anywhere that's not worth following- so he pads through his designated house, glad this looked almost normal- which of course meant it probably wasn't.

He finds his blessing basket and digs through it. It's very not like Wonderland to give their stuff like this- confusion starts to niggle in the back of his head. This isn't a regular Event. Not regular at all. The confusion starts to give way to mild concern when he reads Sodder's letter. This is super not regular. He eventually gets to his Fluid and scrolls through it- finding it full of strangers. Only then does he access the post function throwing what he hopes is the camera a smile that's not half as worried as he feels. This is fine, he's fine. ]

Okay, so fess up. Who's memories are these? Who comes from Bambi's Spooky Dream House? It's okay, I won't judge for the deer fetish. Side note- is this food actually safe to eat, or is this more of a "LOL, you've eaten the cursed food, now you're cursed" kinda thing? Please send your answers on a postcard. [There's a pause, then carefully:] Uh, hey? Can my people sign off and let me know you're okay? I'm... not seeing you on the shiny new squishy cell phone and it's giving me concerns.

[BLOOD IN MY VEINS]

[There are a few things that come from spending eight years of your life in a zombie-infested hellscape. You don't notice terrible smells as much any more. You get pretty good at running. You find new and interesting ways to keep yourself from slipping off the edges of sanity. There's pros.

As such, Louis can see the tension in the townspeople and at least recognise some Grade A Awfulness is likely to go down. The Betties freak him out, but he figures ignoring them probably isn't the best way life decision he can make today. So, he heads off, following instructions to find himself... ]

Holy shit is this Fight Club? [He turns to flash you a grin, pointing at the people sparring.] Are we allowed to talk about it? Is Meat Loaf gonna show up?

[I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN]

[And so here he is, in a super fun maze chained to a stranger. Honestly not how he expected to start his day. He waggles his arm a little, testing how strong the chain is.]

So. This is new.

[How do you even talk to someone you're chained to in a situation that's likely going to go South very quickly? Louis is not afraid to give it a good college try. He flashes his fellow captor a grin. ]

Okay, so hear me out. We can totally use this time to work out an awesome choreographed dance routine. We can call it "Strangers In Chains: A Moving Buddy Story". What'd you say?

[WILDCARD]

[Want something else? Let me know!]

Great Unknown

[bigbadrose]

[Luckily, that works great, and Rose starts giggling.] I mean, I was thinking of trying to find the way out, but whatever floats your boat, mate.

I'm Rose, by the way. Rose Tyler. [Offers a handshake with the un-cuffed hand.]

El Hopper | Stranger Things

[upsides]

Arrival
El is used to strange dreams and visions. Most of hers feel so real that it's hard to discern where reality ends and begins. The dream that occurs before her waking in a strange place is nothing out of the ordinary. The only unusual thing is she's no longer in her bed in the place she's come to know as home. Blearily blinking awake, she sits up and looks around. This bed feels different. The room is dark but she knows it isn't hers. The music softly playing isn't anything that she or Hopper would listen to willingly. The sound of it puts goosebumps across her flesh and makes her briefly wrap her arms around herself.

When she crawls out of bed she walks on her tiptoes to tread lightly against the plush carpet. The darkness of the house makes her think of the upside down. Caution tugs at her senses and makes her alert. Uncertainty on how she got here makes her heart race. On the inside, El feels like a startled deer about to break into a sprint. Her feet move on autopilot, and she creeps her way outside.

It's night there too. Darkness cloaks the city apart from dim streetlights. She turns every which way, until she spots the form of another person. She squints, studying them with interest.

"Hawkins?" She calls out, trying to see if she'll get an answer. People normally don't answer in the upside down.

Blood in my Veins

They want her to fight? El's sure that wouldn't be a fair fight for anyone else in the room. She can feel the pinpricks in the back of her mind down to her fingertips, telling her that her powers are different here. Wobbly in a way that makes her reluctant to try using them. If she's expected to fight here, to use weapons and challenge someone else from town, she'll be forced to turn her hand and reveal what she can do.

She really doesn't want to do that.

Her back presses against the wall in the small room and she acutely studies the person she's been shoved in with. She recalls the feeling of being observed by men who want to control her all too well. The feeling of danger hangs immediate in the air. Unlike when she was a little girl, now she's developing the words to be able to diffuse the situation. She backs it up with teenage sass and a mask of indifference, arms crossed over her chest defiantly.

"They're watching," she casually remarks. "Wanting us to fight."

Great Unknown
"This way!" El's young and quiet but she's not entirely out of her element attempting to be a leader.

Whatever is happening in this maze is not safe. She wishes Hopper was here, that she wasn't constantly put in situations that forced her to use her powers. She wants to stay safe here, stay hidden. Maybe there's something to being a normal girl, just like Hopper is always trying to get her to do.

But he's not here. She is, and now she tries to act like a normal thirteen year old while also trying to lead. There's someone chained to her, maybe more further down the long line that she can't see. She doesn't care. She gives a tug to the cuffs and turns to run in the opposite direction. It isn't hard to sense that the monster here is close by, edging in every second. If she has to stand and fight, she will. But she's hoping they can run their way out of the maze before it comes to that.

Blood in my veins

[teamfun]

Louis had thought this entire thing was ridiculously hilarious at first. There were all kinds of ways to train someone to fight, but this Bradd Pitt-esque fighting hole wasn't one he'd consider the best way. Worse, as soon as he clocked they weren't allowed to leave- that the fighting was forced... well, that echoed some memories of home that leave a bad taste in his mouth.

He's prone towards disobedience, and he's not about to break that habit right now. He leans on the wall his arms folded casually as he glances over at the girl. He can always appreciate some teenage sass, even in the worst of situations. Especially in the worst of situations.

"Yup. Sure looks that way," Louis glances upwards, trying to spot their observers. "I wonder how long they'll put up with a peaceful protest. I mean, are they gonna start pushing us into the whole thing? Or can we just stay here saying 'nope' for the rest of time? They gotta get bored of that shit eventually. "

Wrench | FX Fargo

[wwrench]

↪ ARRIVAL [CW: death (including murder), blood, physical injury]

[It’s a strange honor to bear witness to the last moments of a person’s life. With all the pretense stripped away and the sinking realization of finality taking its hold, a man becomes more himself than he’s ever been since near to his birth. Wrench used to think he’d like to die in his sleep with eyes firmly closed. Since he’s been watching, though, he’s started to think that the end might be worth the greeting.

What he’s never wanted is for it to linger, the way it’s doing now. This purgatorial will-I, won’t-I puts him in mind of judgment, atonement, and absolution. If the dancing pins on the neon sign declaring BOWL-A-RAMA are his pearly gates, does that make the man behind the counter handing out synthetic leather shoes his Saint Peter? Wrench wants to stand and face him, to own his shit like a man too proud and privileged to apologize for his own choices, but he’s lost too much blood.

When he finally opens his eyes he’s flat on his back, wet sod in his nostrils and a thicket overhead. So this is his judgment, he thinks: pitched out and removed from grace, left to die on his back in the woods with an arrow in his wrist and no one to see how bravely he meets it. Or, maybe not no one after all. A shadow passes overhead, and a set of antlers prod his shoulders. Fucking Minnesota. Mauled to death by a deer.

If that were it, maybe there’d be a kind of poetry to it. It’s a good enough joke to drag helpless, frantic laughter from his lungs. It’s in that fit of disbelieving irony he fades out again, and when he wakes in bed he’s still laughing.]


↪ I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

[It’s not that he minds the tag team. Arguably, Wrench is better as half a dynamic duo, in line with some of the world’s greats: Pen and Teller, C-3PO and R2-D2, Charlie Brown and Snoopy. He doesn’t mind playing his role, but why do they always have to restrain his damn hands?

He remembers the crop mazes in his youth that were always a mainstay of late-season holidays. The Halloween he’d lost Grady somewhere in the middle of that 15-acre hellscape. After wandering for the better part of an hour he’d started to panic, and when the sun had gone down and the sky had darkened he’d finally given up and sat in the middle of one of the forked paths. Wrench had imagined Grady in the next row over, calling his name like a fucking fool. He hadn’t wanted to come in here in the first place, when he could’ve spent his money on caramel apples and a wooden roller coaster ride.

When Grady had finally found him his advice had been so simple Wrench had wanted to rattle his teeth: always make right turns. He’d meant right as in directionality, but with his rudimentary ASL what he’d said was right as in correct, as in accurate. He’d been so fucking smug about it too that Wrench had believed that’s what he’d meant. Just do the right thing, as if it was always so easy.]

Come on, get the hell up!

[The length of chain tightens between Wrench and his unwitting partner just as something bursts around the corner.]


↪ WILDCARD

[Wrench from the FX channel’s Fargo television series is a hitman, and the only character to have appeared in all three seasons thus far. His planned entry point into Deerington is in the midst of S3E08: "Who Rules the Land of Denial?" where he will branch off from his canon after entering the bowling alley following the attack in the woods. I’m very open to trying out whatever you’ve got, so if there’s another scenario you’d like to see him in please HMU through private message, or go ahead and drop a starter.]

I Am The Great Unknown

[howlett]

[Deerington makes him tired. Like bone deep tired in ways he's not used to feeling. At least not for this long. So when he comes to and that disorienting feeling that he's not going to know where the hell he is this time starts sinking into his body he doesn't even open his eyes or get up. Not until his wrist is yanked by a cuff he's pretty very sure wasn't there when he fell asleep.]

The fuck... Who the fuck are you?

thom creed | perry moore's hero

[hopecanruinyou]

i. arrival

[ thom passes out in the middle of the children's burn ward and wakes up on a bed in a house that's honestly much too nice to be mistaken for his own. it's disorienting to say the least, and he can't say he really sees the point of moving him from the hospital he was already at unless they messed up the mission badly enough that the team needed to make itself scarce. which, well, judging by how things were going last he remembered, wouldn't be too hard to believe.

that means one of his team members decided to take him back to their house, though, and he hadn't honestly thought he was close enough to any of them to warrant something like that. especially considering they apparently decided to leave him here alone. not even ruth or larry, who seemed to like him okay enough when he isn't making a complete idiot of himself.

there's a note in a little basket by the bed, but it's signed by someone called sodder and sounds like some sort of creative writing exercise, so he sets it aside and puts it out of his mind. after making a cursory round of the rooms to confirm that the house truly is well and truly empty and leaving a note, thom leaves, making sure to lock the door behind him.

thom doesn't recognize the neighborhood that he's in, like, at all. it's worrying. his dad is sure to start wondering where he is, and while he probably has enough money in his wallet to catch the bus, he'd have to know where he is first before he'll know how to do that. he should probably find out what happened with the fight after he passed out, too. ]

Excuse me. [ thom says politely to the next person that passes, smiling awkwardly. ] Do you think you could tell me how to get to the League offices from here?

[ maybe if he can find someone to tell him out to get to the league from here he can check in with them and then catch the bus from there. and if he's lucky, beat his dad home. ]

ii. i am the great unknown

[ thom doesn't remember falling asleep. how could he really, when the knowledge of where he is, of what's happened to him, is weighing down on him so heavily. he's worried about his dad, worried about his team. hell, he's even worried about those pick up games he's been having with goran.

... if he's being totally honest, mostly he's just worried about himself.

still, he must have fallen asleep, somehow, because he's waking up and he's somewhere new all over again. for a brief, shining moment thom lets himself believe that his memories of that place called deerington was all just a long, horrible dream and he's waking up for real now. except there's an open sky above him, not the hospital ceiling, and as he starts to shift and sit up with a groan, he discovers that he's been handcuffed to a stranger.

thom knows, he knows it's pointless, and probably annoying for the person he's chained to, but he tugs experimentally on the cuff anyway, just in case. no go. he smiles anxiously at the stranger tied to him, and really hopes that they don't decide to blame him for this. ] I... sorry. But. Do... you know what's going on?

((OOC: thom has the power of healing and it's a pretty instinctive ability at this point, which more or less translates into thom inflicting damage on people when he touches them, thanks to the power swap. the extent of that damage can be as small or large as you like. talk to me at itsmel if you have any questions or want to work out the details!))

I am the great unknown

[teamfun]

[Louis is surprisingly calm for someone who has woken up chained to a stranger. Between home and Wonderland, he's learned to roll with waking up to weird shit going on around him. Though this is... pretty weird. He's already sitting down when Thom wakes up- he clocks the other teen's anxiousness and offers a lopsided smile to try and put him at ease.]

My guess is this is either a super weird bonding exercise or we have to do something really specific and possibly magical to get the chain off. Maybe both.

[He gives a little wave with his free hand.]

Hi chain-gang-of-two buddy. I'm Louis.

kurt wagner | marvel 616

[suchmiracles]

i. arrival -- cw: blood, body horror

It definitely isn't the sort of place Kurt expects to wake up in. It's smaller and far quieter than the school, all quaint suburban cosiness where there should be mutant children chasing each other down the hallways. He runs through the list of usual suspects as he wanders downstairs, looking for floating cameras (Mojo), knives in the walls (Arcade) or jagged tears in the fabric of reality, and finding none. It's too calm and pleasant to be the future and too modern to be the Savage Land. Strange indeed.

"Ah, when did I get so used to this?" he muses out loud, mostly to break the eerie silence in the house.

The letter and the food give no more clues besides instilling a sense of ominous gloom which makes the fur on the back of his neck prickle. He sniffs a blueberry and then pops it in his mouth as he reads, figuring pragmatically that poisoning might be better than fading away into nothingness.

That done and with no ill effects (so far), he wanders outside, looking for more clues that will tell him where he's ended up. He glances up at the roof, figuring it might make a good lookout point to survey the land, it's an easy enough place to teleport to --

BAMF

The ability that has served him so well for so many years fails spectacularly, dumping him out in an undignified heap only three feet away from where he started. Pain rips through his body, like a metal hook being pulled up through his torso. He curls over on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around his stomach, tail twitching and curling as blood runs out of his nose.

He lifts his head and looks up.

"What.. what is happening?"

ii. blood in my veins

Kurt's still a little shaken when he gets pounced on by a Betty, so he's not quite up to shaking her off and lets himself be lead down into the tunnel. Perhaps, he thinks, following her will lead to some answers about this strange place. Disoriented, he follows her instructions and ends up in the training room, then shoved into a space to be observed.

This, at least, is somewhat familiar. The Danger Room hasn't looked like this for a long time, but the place at least smells and sounds the same. Sweat and desperation and adrenaline. Kurt looks around the room, then makes his way over to a rack of wooden staffs and picks one up. He twirls it, spinning it around one hand and into another, falling unconsciously into a fighting stance. Now, this feels a little more comfortable.

iii. I am the great unknown

So the maze is interesting. And alarming. Kurt squints up at the blazing sun high above the hedges, then down at the chain. He raises his arm to look at it, making the links click together.

"Okay, this is new," he says, trying for a light tone in his rolling German accent. Only failing a little bit. He flashes the points of his teeth in wry smile for the person he's chained to. "I don't suppose you have any lock picks?"

iv. wildcard

Want something else? Let me know or just throw in a starter!

1. arrival

[nojockey]

The whump of air displacement earns a sharp, "Jaysus," followed by a curse in Manx — but the groan of pain is what really gets Sean's attention. He leaves the cigarette he'd dropped and comes over to crouch next to the guy, offers a handkerchief but doesn't try to touch.

"Tilt your head down, let it bleed," he says. "Tilting it back'll only have you swallowing blood." Sean waits until it seems like the worst has passed, and then says, "What were you trying to do?"

Cassandra | Z Nation

[viably]

i. blood in my veins

[The sheer amount of life pulsing in this place is reason enough not to completely hate it. Not even the fact she's currently stuck in a room expected to fight someone takes away from the novelty of being here. She's showered and in clean clothes, and she gets to eat. There aren't zombies running all over the fucking place, at least not yet.

Everything here screams trap. Maybe cult. The woman that led her here sure as hell reeked of cult. She'd know, given where she was before Roberta and the others found her.

She's carrying her favorite makeshift shank in her hand as she presses herself into the corner of the room. She's small to begin with but somehow she manages to make herself look even smaller. The look in her eyes is wild. A cornered animal about to strike. ]

Any ideas on how to get out of here?

[She's not totally against the idea of working together. Trust issues aside, the less people she winds up stabbing the better. ]


ii. i am the great unknown

[She's seen some shit. Terrible, awful shit. Things that give her nightmares. Being chained to other people is shitty enough but having to navigate their way out of a maze with the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge?

Yeah, she's not really enjoying her experience here anymore. There's a pressing need to run, instinct telling her to stab and get the fuck away from anyone that tries to trap her. She doesn't, because there's nowhere to go yet. Her eyes scan the area, looking for an escape route. The person she's chained to pulls and she stumbles blindly along after them.]

Would you wait a second?

[She stumbles again thanks to the fact her small frame is easy to drag. Her feet dig into the ground stubbornly.]

We can't just blindly keep going. We need a plan.

[It's what Addy or Roberta would do if they were here. There's a rustling sound in the distance and she bristles, ready to fight.]

A plan and something sharp. I've got a bad feeling about this place.

Blood in My Veins

[wwrench]

[Biding his time is no trouble to Wrench. In fact, with all that's happened in the past few days he doesn't mind the opportunity just to sit and to be. He's never been one to blindly charge into something without a clue or a plan, and Deerington thus far has not provided him much of either one. It'd be far better to sit and observe, but even distilling might get him somewhere.

At first, Wrench thinks he's alone. There isn't much light down here, and the door that closed behind him swung with a certain kind of isolating finality. He almost sits, until the shadowy light in the corner shifts with enough intentionality to bring him back to his feet and into a defensive pose.]

sean kendrick | the scorpio races + old deerington crau

[nojockey]

i. blood in my veins

[ as a rule sean had never let the betties get to him, so it strikes even him as strange that he's letting one pull him down an alleyway. everything he knows about deerington tells him that's a bad idea —

everything he knows about deerington, memories filtering back slowly, like he's grabbing at the smoke wisp details of a dream. faces, bits of conversation. corr, somewhere — christ, he's going to have to find his horse again — how long has it been? how long was he gone, how long was he back?

show them what you're made of, says the betty. sean would really rather not.

he's not ready for a fight, but it looks like that's what he'll get, as he steps into the blinding room and is immediately pushed into a one-on-one spar.

for people he may know: a long, slow blink that gives away nothing of how fast his mind is working to recognize that face, that voice, until finally, ] Well, this isn't quite how I imagined a reunion.

[ for those he doesn't: ] You don't suppose we could just shake on it.

ii. i am the great unknown

[ sean rubs at his wrist almost absently as he takes stock of the surroundings. he's already clocked that he's chained to someone, but that's frankly the least of his worries: it's brutally hot, and everything around him indicates that they've been dumped straight into the middle of a hedge maze. ]

Brilliant. [ wry, barely inflected. ] Right or left, then? We should choose one and stick to it.

[ sean's no stranger to the right-hand rule, and it seems better to pick a direction and get started before starting any small talk. not that he's ever been good with that. ]

iii. the lay of the land

[ having more or less survived the training session — although he's looking a little worse for wear — sean takes to exploring. he's looking for his godsforsaken capall, but it doubles as a tour of the town, a way of reminding himself of things that were once familiar.

the veterinary clinic and the high school. the theater. the pharmacy and pet store. some new places: a restaurant he doesn't recognize, some businesses. a car dealership. it's like returning to your hometown and finding it different, but in ways that feel like it had always been this way.

sean asks a familiar question to passersby, at least those he doesn't recognize: ] You're not after seeing a red horse, are you? Seventeen hands tall, all teeth? [ with a hand up to indicate that at his shoulder, the horse would be about as tall as sean himself.

should he see anyone he knows, though... well, it's hard to explain how that makes him feel. he lifts his chin in greeting, accompanied by a wave of acknowledgment, and say something like, ] It's been a while, has it?

( ooc: hello ha ha,,,, the prodigal sean returns... happy to make new cr or reunite(?) with old cr, even casual cr! )

blood in my veins

[borntolove]

[The Doctor is poised with his sword and eyeing the opponent, of course, doesn't like being hassled more than he likes his arm being figuratively twisted behind his back with having to fight]

We could but - would they then have us both killed?

[Ten doesn't want to fight for sport entertainment either but maybe they can be clever together?]

Lucifer / Supernatural

[dissemble]

[ ooc: Lucifer's canon point is around the end of s11! ]

1. Arrival cw: blood, lucifer in general

[ The first thing Lucifer does on waking up is try to leave. Repeatedly, and in every direction he can try.

This is just another cage. Bigger than the last, but not less constricting. And apparently capable of making his vessel suffer, if the internal bleeding is anything to go by. Lucifer's disgusted by his vessel on the best of days. Having to spit up blood every once in a while is on par with the worst thing he's ever experienced.

It's a small win when he can spit blood on the person next to him. Totally an accident. ]

Oh, I didn't see you there. [ And this smile? It's totally genuine. Clearly this is an accident. ]

2. Blood in my veins cw: violence, lucifer will not hold back from murder if you're happy to go there.

[ The door locks them in, and Lucifer looks his opponent up and down. The distaste on his face turns to amusement. Sure, he's reconciled with his Father but if the point of being here is to fight each other, Lucifer will not be found wanting. ]

Well. One of us is going to look good in here.

3. The Great Unknown cw: lucifer being a pissy little bitch

[ The moment Lucifer opens his eyes he knows something's wrong. The world is wrong and he is wrong. He is, for all intents and purposes humans. It takes a moment to locate the handcuffs. It takes another moment to start attacking the handcuff. Good luck whoever you are, partner, trying to get him to do anything useful. ]

blood in my veins ( gulps )

[sathan]

( she's not a fighter, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. lilith's handy with an item to hit someone with but when it comes to it her magic is where she falls back on, though she doesn't often find herself in these situations.

this was different and frustrating that they'd gotten her here. what makes it worse is the man that she's locked in the room with, a coldness flooding through her even before the door shuts. she knows the power of an angel and this--

it makes her feel fear, even if she's very good at keeping it hidden deep, confidence still in her appearance even with careful steps towards him. satan, help her )

You'd simply do as they ask?

( angel vs demon-- she'd assume so. she just doesn't expect which particular angel this is, not when he's not the lucifer of her world, the one she knows so well )

Sabrina Spellman | Chilling Adventures of Sabinra

[bloodspells]

blood
[Sabrina isn't above doing what's needed in order to survive. Generally, she aims to protect the greater good. But she's sixteen and sometimes that means making selfish or stupid choices. She's not entirely blind to that fact. She's also not entirely blind to the fact that she's new here and everything about this is so Fight Club that it doesn't feel real.

It can't be real, can it?

It unfortunately is. It's frustrating to be held in this room, and infuriating that they're actually expected to fight. Along with being prone to making selfish or stupid choices, she's also very inclined to make self-sacrificing choices in order to simply get things done quickly. She isn't known for being very patient.]

If it means getting out of here quickly, you can hit me. That's what they want, isn't it? Violence?

[She shouts the last word and looks up and around. She knows someone is watching and listening.]

unknown
[She wakes with her head feeling heavy and her mouth dry. She's dizzy but can still make out the feel of someone pulling at something that's attached to her. She's confused at first when she hears shouting. What's going on?

A few blinks later her mind is catching up with the situation and white hot panic courses through her. Sabrina hurries to her feet and looks around.]

How did we get here?

[It still hasn't registered that she's literally cuffed to someone else. That takes a couple more seconds to realize. The instant she does, she gives a tug to the chain connecting them like it's going to break apart.]

wildcard
[She may have had her family, friends, and school torn away from her but at least she still has Salem. The black cat has become a security blanket in a way that her familiar never was back home. Of course she loved him there, but she relies on his company without the constant presence of her aunts to keep her company.

She and Salem spend their days looking in the public library for things to read. She has to sneak him in, of course. At night they slowly prowl the streets to explore. As much as she despises everything the Dark Lord is and makes her be, even his voice in her head or a sign he's present here would be welcome. She longs for normalcy, something that makes sense.

She can be followed out to the church on Neibolt, and into the graveyard there. She doesn't feel the same source of power as she does at home, but the cemetery makes her feel as close to her dear aunties as possible.]

unknown ( quiet yelling )

[sathan]

( she's getting used to the unexpected nature of the things that seem to occur here and given recent events waking up somewhere unfamiliar is not as unknown, though still rather unpleasant.

what is unexpected is the person that wakes nearby her, a tugging on her chain making lilith realise what is going on. and it isn't good that )

That--

( she stops, cut off by sound of rustling and lilith starts getting to her feet, offering a hand to sabrina to help her up, helping their movements be more fluid.

and-- satan, there was never anything simple about it )

That I will answer later.

( running was a better answer and grasping sabrina's hand she tugs her along, wanting to find a better spot before using her magic. with what this place did to her they didn't have unlimited options )

Crowley | Supernatural

[betterthedevilyouknow]

BLOOD IN MY VEINS (CW: Blood, violence, demons?)

[He wasn't here because he wanted to be. He was here because there was something worse in Deerington and this just so happened to be the only direction in which he felt survival was a stronger outcome. He was the King of Hell. Of course he could take whatever this place had to throw at him. Even if it wasn't entirely in fairness to someone who thought they would be facing him in a physical match.

So, when that door opens, Crowley faces it, smiling smugly at the person being ushered into the room with him.]

Well, look what the cat's dragged in. Always preferred hounds myself, but then, they don't get sick on your priceless Persian Rug.

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN (CW: Probably violence, sexual themes?)

[Well now, that hadn't gone how he'd hoped it would. Especially since he felt like he'd been hit by a lorry and backed over again a few times for good measure. He groaned as he came to, reaching up to rub his head. The distinctive sound of chains jingling as he did so puzzled him. He owlishly blinked his eyes to clear the dazed sensation and try to focus, looking at his wrist.]

Oh, bloody Hell. We're gonna have to talk about this, sweetheart. I may or may not be into this on a good day, but I'm not having a good day!

ARRIVAL (CW: Alcohol?)

[Crowley hadn't been here too terribly long. Just a scant few hours, really, but that didn't stop him from finding the Lux and having a drink. Or two. Three? It was going to be a great day.

He glanced at whoever just sat down beside him without really looking at them and tipped his glass in their direction.]

Cheers, mate. You got my tab, yeah? Finding myself a bit short on cash what with waking up in this delightful excuse for Hell. I should make Hell a dry state. There's a thought.

arrival

[sathan]

( she'd come to lux for her own reason, magic sliding her discreetly into the shadowy corner. she doesn't get to move before it hits her, uncertain whether she's glad or not that she came.

a demon.

it's easy to find out who he is, particularly when he starts talking about hell even without her having to poke.

she settles beside him, waiting until her drink has been brought over before-- )

And how would you do that?

Amelia Pond | Doctor Who

[snogging]

( I haven't decide when I'm taking her from yet, so I'm just going with early season five for her. )

blood in my veins

[ Amy had been dragged off by a suspicious looking woman... It was almost impossible to refuse, if not for curiosity but because something in her gut was telling her to follow. Maybe that meant she shouldn't have, maybe she shouldn't act like a moth drawn to a flame... But, well, she's curious. These Betties, despite being super creepy, don't actually seem to want to hurt her, either. That's always a good sign.

When she got to the door, she couldn't help but repeat the phrase. ] Knock twice. No more or less... [ So she knocks. Once... Then twice. Surprisingly, for some reason, the door opens.

She raises her hand above her face to shield from the light that blinds her. Before she can even get an "excuse me, what's going on?" she's shuffled into a room with another person, turning around right as the door is locked in her face. She pounds on it with her fist before turning back to look at the other person with her. ] What's going on here?

[ She's not going to fight someone Fight Club style for no reason. ]

i am the great unknown

[ Waking up cuffed to another person might be one of the less weird things she's experienced. Luckily for her, they still seem knocked out, so for now, she's going to try to get out of the shackle on her wrist.

Yeah, she's having no luck with that...

Whether or not this tugging and clanking wakes up whoever she's stuck with, they'll be met with a properly unfriendly meeting. ] Oi! You! [ She brandishes a branch she's broken off one of the hedges like it's a jousting sword. Downright frighting. ] Feel like explaining how this happened? And... Where we are?

[ She can't just go being handcuffed to strangers in strange hedges, she's getting married tomorrow! ] No funny business, either!

network: un: pond

these r proper fancy phones, huh? weird that they hand these out to u when everything else seems outdated. anyone else find that odd?

wildcard

[ Feel free to send me a different prompt. ]

i am the great unknown

[borntolove]

[What happened? Well, they got kidnapped somehow. Drug trip this place tends to be a drug trip in about itself.]

Deerington.

Though what is Deerington is more the question.

Calm down. Okay. Going to try to get us out of this.

[Which first The Doctor tries what he learned from Harry Houdini. Which that is all in the wrist. No such luck. Then takes out a sonic screwdriver and buzzes that. Nope.]

Okay, we might have to find the key. Shouldn't be hard.

imperator furiosa / mad max: fury road

[autonomies]

ARRIVAL

(Furiosa wakes as if from a nightmare, shaking herself awake with a hoarse shout. She sits up, then doubles over and clutches her midriff, palming- her shirt, intact? Her harness is missing, but when she runs her hand up underneath the cloth her skin is smooth, save for scars.

Her arm rests on a chair beside her bed. She swings her legs over the side and reaches for it without looking, strapping it to her with long-memorised movements, yanking each belt tight to her waist as she stands. She is in a small house. She hasn't ever lived in a house, before. There isn't much to inspect, save for the little basket perched upon a table top in the middle of the room. It holds bread and cheese, fruit that Furiosa hasn't seen since... since...

She rips into the bread first, chewing as she inspects the rest of the little house, and then cautiously picks at the apple with her fingernail. It smells good. Fresh. She crunches her way through that in a few bites including the core, licking her fingers, savouring every single bit of the juice that she can. How long has it been? Furiosa had forgotten fruit.

When she opens the door, the sight that meets her is completely unfathomable. She has seen well-lived in places before of course, but this is bustling in an entirely different way. There are buildings, and trees, and grass, stretching as far as she can see. Furiosa takes a few steps out the door without thinking, marveling at the scenery, until she stands out in the middle of the road.)

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

(Okay, Fight Club is definitely more in Furiosa's wheelhouse than little cottages and baskets full of fruit. She accepts the challenge of a fight with relish, flexing her metal prosthesis idly as she waits to be paired up with somebody else. Once somebody else is matched with her, she resists momentarily to being locked into a cage, but relents the moment she's promised to be let out again at the end of the fight.

Winner leaves first, huh? She casts an eye over her opponent, rolling her shoulders back, gaze dark. Then, she lifts a hand toward the belts at her midriff, shrugging a shoulder at the person opposite her.)

Arm on, or off?

GREAT UNKNOWN

(Well, this is great.

Waking up in a dark maze, missing her arm. Chained to somebody else, the cuff thick, solid metal. Furiosa brings it momentarily to her mouth but she does not bite, recognising the whole thing as useless; she lets their chained arms drop down between them. She exhales, frustrated, and hunches her knees, driving her nub against her thigh. Trying to think, trying to figure out what she's supposed to do.)

Are you awake?

(She can't do this alone. She's not adverse to working with strangers, but she doesn't trust easily, and all bets are off now that her arm is missing, too.)

Hello?

blood in my veins

[deadboywalking]

-- what?

[that comes as a surprise. will had mentally been trying to gauge how badly he would get his butt kicked by the dark-eyed, intent stranger who was in the room with him. something about her is -- familiar.

(it's the hair. it's like eleven's.)

but the question catches him off-guard and for a moment he's frowning, a regular, bewildered kid.]

merlin | ...merlin (bbc)

[definitelynotmagic]

blood in my veins.

[ He is not here to impress anyone with any shows of 'what he's made of', as the woman at the entrance way had encouraged him with. Merlin is, for better or for worse, not too unfamiliar with being tasked strange things by unknown people using cryptic wording; but he's never been directed to a dungeon for...what, training? Fighting to the death? No one was very specific before handing him a wooden training sword and encouraging him into a room.

Merlin's dressed in old-fashioned (to put it mildly) linen and wool, all of it hanging off a gangly young frame. He's holding the sword at his side, his open hand out in front of him as soon as he spots the sparring opponent coming into the room. ]

No, listen, I'm not— really into this stuff. Swords and things. Might want to go find a new partner. [ Merlin is used to fearing for his life, sure, but he's also always had a real ace up his sleeve in the form of his magic. It's just that he'd very, very much like to keep that a secret in this new, foreign world. So while he seems uncomfortable, he doesn't seem terribly scared of whoever's come in to join them: regardless of how big or how armed they are. ]


i am the great unknown.

[ Merlin isn't actually afraid of the labyrinth, either, until he realizes that secretly trying to unlock the manacles when his new partner's back is turned...doesn't work. Whatever did this, it's more powerful than Merlin is - or at least knows about spells he's not familiar with undoing.

That doesn't bode well.

Well, and neither does... ] ...Did you hear that? [ He's only pitching his voice a little quieter to ask it, sorry. But yeah, stranger-whose-name-he-maybe-just-learned, did you hear the ominous sound of branches snapping, back behind you? ]

anyone interested is welcome to get creative with the prompts, esp the labyrinth ones! merlin is a sorcerer in-universe whose powers will be warped by the setting, which i'd also be happy to figure out how to play with for anyone interested. he will try to keep his magic a secret from anyone he meets, even if your character shares that they have powers, so any ill effects from attempting magic will be...fun to play out.
feel free to PM to plot, or hit me up at itrhymes.

closed for ben dearborn, the unluckiest man in the universe (cw: gore)

[definitelynotmagic]

[ Merlin comes out through the doorway panting, hands over his eyes for a moment. He's fine, he's collecting himself, he'll get up and walk out of whatever new dungeon or impossible architecture he's been deposited in, in just a second.

If his breaths sound a bit rattled, and if he ends up having to use one hand to smear some wetness off his face once he's done taking a moment, then at least no one's here to see it, right? Since he'd been alone upon exiting the labyrinth?

Except that when Merlin goes to move both hands back down to his sides, he realizes it's not just his left hand that's rattling and chained. No, as he blinks and looks around himself and sees the high hedged walls again, Merlin jerks his hand and accidentally tugs hard on the wrist of the new person he's attached to. ] No, [ he pants. Merlin's had a bad day after a series of very strange, unfortunate ones. There's splattered blood on his face, although not many visible wounds. It looks more like he ran head-first into the shrubbery, rather than got into a fight.

His left arm, however, is coated in blood. And at the end of it, dangling off the handcuff attached to his own wrist, is...another wrist. With a hand and very little arm left attached to it.

Merlin's magic couldn't unlock the manacles, unfortunately, but it hadn't kept him from severing off the part of the dead body he hadn't been able to run while still attached to. ] No no no, not again.

Peter Graham | Hereditary

[possessum]

♔ARRIVAL cw: injury, blood, mention of death, brief non-descriptive mention of vomiting

[ Peter wakes with the smell and taste of blood, and tears that haven't quite dried upon his face. He wakes in pain that almost (but not quite) makes it impossible to move. He does, slowly. It is his mind that isn't working, shut down, empty.

At first, that hindrance is merciful. As if in a trance, he follows soft music down to the kitchen of the unfamiliar house. Numbly, he reads the letter, following the instructions with an almost mindless obedience.

He catches sight of himself in a small mirror hanging on the wall. His appearance is foreign, frightening. It is like looking at a stranger. One whose face is broken, nose bandaged from a most painful injury, blood and bruises beneath the dark circles of his eyes.

And he remembers, slowly, like a fever dream gradually taking hold. The attic, with candles in some bizarre, nightmarish ceremonial circle, and photographs of his face with his eyes x'ed out. People closing in on him with hungry smiles. They need him for something. Jumping through the window, hitting the ground, then all is black.

He remembers his parents. What was left of his father. The thing that was his mother.

Peter's body jolts violently, as if the memory is a living thing overwhelming him, too vast for his skin to contain. He stumbles to the front door and out onto a manicured lawn, crumbles to his hands and knees, and throws up. There's a choked sob, and he fumbles to his feet, makes his way onto pavement. He has to get away, but from what he is uncertain.

There's a dark shadow of a person staggering down the streets of Deerington with an arm wrapped around his stomach. A messy thing, a frightening sight of tears, sweat, and blood. He could end up anywhere, could bump into anyone. When exhaustion takes hold, the teenager may also be found sprawled upon a park bench or simply against the street itself, lying there.

Is this a fresh nightmare, or a continuation of an old one? ]

♔BLOOD IN MY VEINS cw: injury

[ Peter follows along like a willing lamb, down into the dark corridor and to the shockingly bright room after. But that is all. No matter whom he ends up with, he clearly isn't a ready opponent. It already seems he might have gotten into some sort of scuffle before, with the bandage over his swollen nose and his red eyes. Clearly, if that were the case, he wasn't the victor.

The young man sits in a corner, long legs drawn to his chest, arms draped over them, and stares listless at the floor: gaze wide and glossy, dark eyes beneath a mop of dark hair. ]

♔I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

[ The person you're chained to already seems paranoid, perhaps even unsettling so. Tremours slip down his spine erratically; he constantly glances over his shoulder, fearfully, as though something breathes against the back of his neck. As though he's expecting something to.

But it makes him an extremely receptive partner, one who catches every sound, every shift in the atmosphere around. While walking with his companion, he's constantly scanning the area. If he hears the snap of a twig or any other soft sound, Peter's eyes will go wide, and he urges whomever is at the other end of the chain around one of the maze's tall hedges, tucking into a corner. For a dark, brooding teenager who seems as though he may crumble any moment, he's strong -- tall for his age, not particularly physically weak. If there is resistance, he'll fight it almost subconsciously, because everything in him screams to hide.

And something else tells him to protect. His arm would slip in front of his companion, keeping them behind himself.

He can't let anyone else get hurt. ]

♔NOTES

[ For those unfamiliar, Peter has been progressively haunted and possessed by the demonic entity Paimon. The canon point I am testing him out from allows for those who might have the ability to sense Paimon's presence (or simply something "dark" or "supernatural") in Peter to be able to do so. There is more detailed information about that here. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or would like to plot something, or hit me up at eyestalks! ]

the great unknown

[deadboywalking]

[maybe it's the dark shadows under his eyes, or the long, lanky build of the stranger. maybe it's just a desperation to hold onto something - familiar, however vaguely. whatever the reason, a spark of will's memory connects this teenager to jonathan, the correlation to his big brother the only thing that keeps the younger boy from twitching away when an arm is held out to keep him still.

he knows how to stay still, at least. strange, for a kid his age, but he does it perfectly, even covers his mouth so his breathing isn't too audible. he glances up and over at the older teenager, silently wanting approval.]

Jefferson | Once Upon a Time

[nevar]

I. ARRIVAL

This was not the first time Jefferson had awoken in someplace unfamiliar. The weird fever dreams were also not unusual and didn't distress him as much as it might have someone else. The deer was new. Not something he'd seen before in the muddled mess that lived in his mind. Jefferson had long since stopped trying to make sense of it all, simply accepting the nightmarish reality in which he lived.

Still, he jolted awake and instantly bolted through the large, empty, and slightly derelict house, running at full speed.

"Grace!"

No answer. Not a good sign. "Grace, are you here?!"

He fell a few times in his haste to search the house for any sign of his daughter. One bad slip slammed him into a wall hard enough that it would likely leave him with a black eye. She wasn't here. Again. He'd lost her again. Jefferson put his fist through the wall, easier only because it was thin to begin with, but it left his knuckles bleeding.

A basket. A note. Eat me. Drink me. What new horror could possibly be awaiting him once he stepped out the door? Not Wonderland. Not Storybrooke. And he definitely wasn't back home.

Only one way to find out. At least it was a nice walk.


II. BLOOD IN MY VEINS

By the time Jefferson made it into the heart of the town, he already looked as if he'd been in a fight. A black eye was starting to form, and the knuckles on both his hands were bloody. He tightened the scarf around his throat and pulled a shabby hat low to shield his eyes. He was dressed darkly, rather thin and pale. (But to some, his face may look a little familiar....)

When someone calling herself "Betty" grabbed his hand and started to lead him away, Jefferson followed without a fight. The despair of his situation was kicking in, and he welcomed whatever was coming. It's not like he'd never arrived in a strange world before. (It used to be his livelihood.) Sometimes it was easier to simply play along until he figured out what was happening.

The training room was not something he expected... and definitely not somewhere he wanted to be.

Getting shoved into a one-on-one sparring area was even worse. Jefferson wasn't a fighter, and there was nowhere to run.


III. I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Jefferson didn't fully remember being knocked unconscious, but again he woke up in a strange place. A hedge maze/. This alarmed him more than anything else that had happened so far, and he stood to run-- only to find himself attached by a chain to someone else.

Something like panic started to set in. Whether this was the Queen's maze or somewhere else entirely, nothing good had ever come to the Hatter from a maze like this.

Turning to his fellow captive, "We have to get out of here. We have to move. Now."

Great Unknown

[bigbadrose]

"So glad we agree," Rose rubbed her forehead, already moving. "Never was one for staying put... and I don't much reckon our chances against any minotaurs prowling about."

Aziraphale | Good Omens | OTA

[guardianofeden]

[Sorry, only one option on this one, 'cause Aziraphale wouldn't trust the Betties enough to go down into their little dungeon ring. Not today, Satan!]

Hedge Maze

One minute, he'd been in the kitchen, setting on the kettle to make a cup of tea, and then the next, in the blink of an eye, he found himself sprawled out on the hard, sun-baked ground, a strange weight on his arm. He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up with a groan before that weight became heavy enough as he tried to lift it that it drew his attention up and over. When he found himself staring at another person, he gave a small sound of surprise, jumping back.

"Oh, good Heavens! Hello." He looked down at his arm, frowned at the sight of a pair of handcuffs keeping them chained together, and then back up at the other person before giving a long-suffering sigh and trying for a sympathetic smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I suppose this is better then waking up in a grave..." His ability to be shocked by these things was quickly disappearing. "I wonder what they have planned for us this time..."

[betterthedevilyouknow]

This time? "Good morning, darling. You missed teatime, but then again, so did I. No one gets any tea. We have the most gracious hosts. I take it this happens often? Not sure how I feel about that one." The demon chained to the angel looked annoyed but not necessarily hostile. Yet. He made no move to get up, even after the other fussed.

"If you're so familiar with this place, get us the Hell out!" He growled. Not exactly the nicest person to be chained to, Aziraphale. Too bad.

Will Byers | Stranger Things

[deadboywalking]

i. blood in my veins

[oh this is -- this is awful, is what it is. will had listened to the strange woman (?) and gone along with her obligingly, but he probably would've tried to resist a bit more if he'd known where it was heading. he can't even look directly at any of the sparring partners, feeling like every time he does, he ends up seeing someone with blood in their teeth or bruises across their noses.

however, no amount of digging his heels in can keep will from being pushed into a room (protesting all the while) with someone else. once inside, he locks his arms tight over his stomach and gives the other person a mulish, stubborn look.]

I don't...I'm not going to fight you. [you know, in case you were worried about this tiny beanpole kicking your ass.]


ii. i am the great unknown

[unlike most things (you know, like fighting), will happens to be exceptionally good at running through perilous places with horrifying creatures of indeterminate identity chasing him. so he doesn't waste much time in trying to get the cuff off his wrist (it's there, it's done, no use making a fuss), instead looping up the length of the chain so it doesn't jangle or clank against the ground.

this brings him very close to the person who he's attached to, and he leans even closer, voice softer than a whisper, eyes very intent.]

We need to be quiet and we need to move, now.


iii. arrival (w/ CRAU from deerington)

[unlike many many others, will comes to in the bed laughing, softly. he'd almost reached out for the deer, when he'd seen it, something akin to relief shooting through his veins. this he knew. this he understood.

it's horrible and terrible, it's like the upside down all over again, but will goes out into the misty streets torn between laughing and crying, a little older, a lot sadder, bits of memories filtering back like snapshots. he can remember this, the buildings, the townspeople. the other sleepers.

he wonders if they're still here. he starts closely looking at everyone who passes, frowning a little, trying to identify them.]

[[ooc: s'up y'all been a HOT MINUTE WOW. still unsure if i'm going to play will with CRAU from deerington or not, but wanted to test it out. also i'm caught up with s3, so spoilers welcome, but will is being played from the end of s2~]]

i

[acidwashjeans]

[ So Steve is an idiot, which is how he's ended up here. Mentally he berates himself because this is a fucking nightmare of a situation. He's inspecting the walls in case there's another way out of the room when he hears someone else being shoved in. A kid no less, that's the cherry at the top of this--]

Holy shit-- Will. [ Immediately he crosses the room to check the kid's okay. ] Jesus it's really you-- are you okay?

robin buckley . stranger things ( s3 spoilers mmmmaybe )

[ahoylesbians]

blood in my veins

[ robin's noticed the whole go, fight, win attitude of the town for the last few days, because of course she has. she's an observer, she observes. she has nothing to compare it to, of course, and oddly enough her first thought is "hawkins should take a leaf out of this place's book", because it looks like they're preparing for something big. a fight, if not a war. it all seems sketch though because of course it does, so robin's been laying low, trying to avoid basically any kind of human interaction until she has a better handle on things.

but, well, far be it from her to turn down a request from a random girl trying to lead her down a dark alley.

... wait. no. that is far from robin. what the hell? where did her common sense go?

but yeah, same as everyone else, she's paired up and tossed into a room. she doesn't- really take any time to ask questions, she's just got her hands up, ready to rumble. hell no does she think she can actually win in a fight, but she can pretend ]

You think you're the scariest person I've been locked in a little room with this month? Let's go, me and you.

network
un: rockinrobin85

so if this is all a dream, does that mean we can request a dream flight to a different dream location? maine isn't really doing it for me
i don't even need to go back to indiana, i mean honestly, i could use the break from that literal hellhole
i'm thinking california
or new york?
either one, honestly
oh or vermont, i have family in burke. that's so close to here, i could even take a dream train instead of a dream plane.
so who do i talk to about a dream transfer?

[ooc i'm totally up for the great unknown prompt too, just didn't write one up. if you'd like a different starter, hit me up on plurk @ sexbang ]

blood.

[micycle]

[The jumpy kid in the other corner turns around, startled by her voice, and-

It's prissy Nancy's little brother, the one who was at the mall with his superhero girlfriend.]

I told them, I don't want to fight anyone!

[Something about him is... off. He's younger, shorter, his voice higher and his presence less confident. His hair doesn't look like a misplaced cat in need of a shedding brush. But most importantly, there's no recognition in his face when he looks at Robin.]

waverly earp — syfy's wynonna earp

[earpiest]

I — I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN.

( "I always wanted to see the world." She can't remember the exact time she said it, and maybe it wasn't with those words, but she knows for a fact that she was definitely, definitely wistful about seeing the world on more than one occasion. And maybe there were even times when it bothered her, really bothered her, that Wynonna had gone globe trotting and had weird stories about body shots at raves in Greece, where her weird stories were about mystery stains she'd had to experiment to clean off the floor at Shorty's.

Suddenly that seemed really, really dumb. She's rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm, sleeve of her other arm pulled tight to her palm, fingertips nervously feeling the edges of the material even as she tries to stand up strait and not look nervous at all. The tug at her wrist pulls her gaze to the handcuff, the person at the other end, and she gulps a she musters a smile. This definitely isn't the start of a movie she wants to watch. )

Talk about an icebreaker. Whatever happened to charades, right?


II — A BAR FIGHT // VIOLENCE. (opponent, the person she helped, someone else? whatever works)
Hey.

( For someone on the smaller side, she's got a pair of lungs on her. And beside that, she just physically jerked someone's hand away from another person who was really having a hard time in a fight. Thank you, Dolls, though the person whose thumb she wrenched to get them to drop their grip might not be quite so appreciative. Whatever. She's had it with this creepy, stupid town. She's got enough emotional energy for exactly one of those, and this one isn't nearly as important to her as Purgatory. )

How about you pick on someone— ( Oh. Oh dear. ) Considerably less than your own size?

( You know what's handy about bars? Pool tables. There's a cue in her hand, and she snaps it in half over her leg with surprising ease. This is fine. It might not be fine, but this is fine. )


III - DINER MOPING.

( Waverly Earp is staring at a pile of fries, forearms resting on the table and slumped with her chin resting on top of them. The fries don't look like she's eaten many. They've been sort of sculpted into what could be barn, or maybe a castle, or possible a sinking ship. It's sort of hard to tell. )

iii — it's his calling

[castle]

[ he doesn’t really expect many people to be in an excited mood here, considering the circumstances; hell, he’d rather most of the time that people settle down with the eccentric excitement like they’re on some pleasure cruise. at the same time, it’s a bit distracting from his side of the diner to see the girl moping so obviously at the booth, head slumped like gravity wasn’t doing its duty for the day.

and he could probably ignore it, having plenty more on his plate to handle —

but she’s got that untouched serving of fries and it annoys him to the core that she’s just letting it sog up there. ]

Hey. [ he drags himself to stand at the booth’s edge, hands on his hips. ] If you don’t wanna eat, fine, but there’s too much of a food shortage around here for you to let that sit there. Don’t go ordering food if you’re planning on wasting it.

lydia deetz ➺ beetlejuice ➺ ota* (notes at bottom of post)

[hauntedhome]

➺ arrival.
[ East Main Street | open | cw: references to ghosts, allusions to mental health. ]

( amidst the blue fog in the unending twilight over Deerington, a door opens in the sleepy quiet, and a figure blooms out into the open doorway. alabaster in hue, a face and set of hands seemingly float in the dim air as a girl in shrouds of black emerges, eyes round, lips slack with blank awe.

the letter is still caught, half-crumpled, in one of her small hands, and her all-black basket in another as she steps out, staring up and down the length of the street. on silent feet, she moves down the steps and pauses at the street, staring, incredulous, nearly affronted at what she's found.

ever wondered if what they say is true? be careful what you wish for, and all that? Lydia Deetz wonders in a startling pang if karma's just bitten her back, as she steps stiffly up the sidewalk, confounded. this definitely isn't Connecticut...it's similar, but this isn't it. she's never seen these townhomes before and, as she strolls down onto East Main street, she notices the Hart Mart — she's never heard of it before, and while her father's business buddies are disgustingly quick to buy out and flip a cheap plot of land for a money-making venture, something this quaint isn't really their style. now, if it were a McDonald's, then, maybe. )

Adam? Barbara? ( Lydia's voice is often a small thing, but not by its own nature. she's her own ghost made by her surroundings, shooed off, tuned out. when she's quiet, it's a sound made with dejected decision, a surrender. here, the quality of her low voice is pushed to a volume she rarely uses anymore, stretching her voice thinner. in betrayal to her, it gives her away, the rising terror that her confusion tries to cushion.

she doesn't know where this is, if any of this is real. she's dreaming? yeah, she must be — either that or she's finally snapped. she wouldn't even care, either, if the Maitlands were here...

Lydia pauses to see someone who might just be the actual polar opposite of herself — a quaint, retro-styled woman, petal-pink beehive hair and clothes to match of a boatneck top and pencil skirt, like some rejected B-52 attempt. Lydia, in her all-black, looks nearly offensive here on this side of the street with her, who walks silently down toward her from the opposite end, and the teenager pauses with clear conflict. hardly as if Lydia is afraid of talking to strangers — she's from New York, after all — but the desperate confusion fizzles uncomfortably in her stomach.

her jaw sets, she swallows, and leans closer toward the pastel-person. ) Ex- excuse me, what is this—?

( the lady glances at Lydia so briefly, it's nearly lost completely, and she zips past. the lady averts her eyes and keeps walking, face neutral.

Lydia pauses and stares, mouth open and round. ) Seriously? ( look, if this was New York City, then that interaction wouldn't even phase her. right now, in some small town in...what, Maine? Lydia doesn't get it, and more and more, she feels as though she doesn't like it, either. )

➺ fight club.
[ blood in my veins | open | cw: fighting with an underage person? depends on you. ]

( you've done as the prompt has outlined: a Betty lured you over, pushed you through the little pathway in the wall, muttering ominous things to you, and you complied. you ended up here, down a ladder and down a hallway, into a room out of a Rocky training montage. you've noticed the pastel-palette townsfolk taking up some odd extracurricular activities, as if the kickboxing fad has hit Deerington like an afterthought. do people who exist in a dream world really care about their cardio so much? well, considering they've spent all this time either pretending as if the horrors that fell on their town hadn't happened, or seemingly...hypnotized into forgetting, why would they take up fight training?

it's probably the least weird question you've asked yourself in this weirdo town.

you've just taken in the reality of the situation, of this secluded, dedicated training room for Sleepers, when something beside a rack of faux swords over in the beginner-side shifts like a horror movie zinger — and when it turns, at least you have the comfort of seeing that it has a perfectly normal, human-looking face.

Lydia turns and levels a defensive, distant look that feels rather on-brand for a teenager encountering a complete stranger. doubly-appropriate, considering the both of you were just ushered into a secret fight room that might have you feeling as though life is about to turn into the Hunger Games real soon. )

I've had three people refuse to fight me. I guess I'm more intimidating than I thought. ( that is absolutely not it, but Lydia likes to imagine it wasn't because she was unappealing to practice or spar with. the slump in her bored shoulders and the droop in her eyes says enough. ) I just want to get out of here, can you please punch me and get it over with? Holding a child captive is already all sorts of illegal. You'd be like, a hero, or something.

➺ maze runner.
[ the great unknown | open | cw: nothing immediately, but eventually action and monster horror. ]

( great.

maybe she has gone insane, finally, after all these years. (yeah, all fourteen of them, it's the height of struggle.) maybe this is it, reality giving in and buckling under the weight of all the weird crap she's had to deal with. Lydia stirs under the fierce sunlight, rises in a fog from her position on the ground, which by the way, she didn't fall asleep on. she turns over to stare accusingly at the lengths of green walls, textured...leaves. hedges. it reminds her of the Queen's court in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland; is she dreaming again? a dream inside a dream? then again, that also sounds like certifiable insanity.

the teen gives an earnest and soft grunt as she pushes herself up to sit, squinting — and this may be the moment when she realizes a resistance built around her left wrist. it takes her attention, pulls her twirling mind down to focus a confused stare at the impossible shackle bound around her arm. what fresh hell? oh, god, what is it now?

she expects to find a ball and chain, an archaic stone wall, a terrifying contraption, maybe a weird monster, something.

instead, she looks and finds — you.

she frowns, yanking your arm, snapping you awake. ) I don't do best friends forever bracelets. All my friends are dead. ( all two of them, and you're neither of them, so. what's the big idea? )

➺ wildcard.

post your own starter, if you have any sudden inspirations.

hmu to discuss anything.
dearlybeheaded or PM.
i love curveballs and atypical
approaches to situations. don't be shy.
* my one and only request: no beetlejuices tagging in, please.

fight club (will he punch a child???)

[wontgraham]

[ Will hadn't been on a walk, per se, when interrupted by one of the Betties. Given a mission and a genuine tone of warning from her, he'd followed straight from the end of his driveway, where he'd been standing to observe the ever-present fireflies and bruised twilight. Checking in, during an exhausted but sleepless few moments that evening. Early morning? Did it matter what time it was, did time even really exist here?

So Will had padded along, barefoot and a little hazy, in flannel pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt. He'd assumed this was an emergency of some kind— the Betties haven't ever talked to him much. He'd long since stopped trying to interact with any of the Townsfolk, but as he's urged towards a ladder and a tunnel, Will reconsiders this.

He steps in and...is immediately aware that he's dressed wrong for this adventure. He's ushered into a room with racked bo staffs and wooden swords, and then is greeted by a...

That's a child. Another child, trapped here in Deerington. Will almost thinks it's a Waste, for a brief moment, but her face is unobscured by a mask. His expression falls so quickly they're both lucky he doesn't have to bend down and scoop it off the ground. ] I'm not going to punch you. [ It sounds less reassuring and more...vexed. Will's dealt with a lot today, please don't ask him to knock out a teenager so they can both leave a secret underground training bunker. ]

And I don't think whoever brought us here is worried about legality.

Frisk || Undertale

[save_theworld]

i || Arrival

[Over and over, we begin again.

But not like this- not with a ceiling overhead and warm sheets tucked around them. They can still feel the rocks tearing up their back, a phantom sensation that has them sitting up sooner rather than later, taking in the rest of their surroundings in silence. They don't know this room. It's nice. There's music playing, somewhere- an old tune that makes them think of a gentle woman with white fur and butterscotch cinnamon pies. And out the window, the sun is -- partially obscured behind a cloud. Birds singing, if intermittently.

It's not the most beautiful day outside.

But it is outside. That's more than enough of a reason to take to the streets and begin wandering- no destination in mind, and a thoughtless enough path to their meandering that getting lost is an inevitability, but that's fine.



Until they get hungry. At which point, it might be time to walk up to the nearest person who'll meet them in the eye, waving for attention. Sup, homie? Got a second?]


ii || Blood In My Veins

[Their weapon of choice is a knife. Not that their opponent will know that by looking at them- said weapon is burning a hole into the small of their back, but they haven't reached for it in the last ten minutes.

Mostly, Frisk has been silent, keeping their distance from the room's second occupant as they make their way around the room, looking for cracks, or an unlocked door, or anything that may prove useful in getting out without resorting to...that.

There isn't anything. Or maybe they aren't looking hard enough. Frisk exhales, lips thinning as they turn their attention to their- opponent. Maybe those ladies are trying their best, but monsters were also trying their best, and look what kept happening there.

Show them what you're made of is a little too close to it's kill or be killed for comfort.]

I won't fight you.

[As quiet as they are, the announcement is clear- and calm. There's no indication that this whole ordeal has shaken them up any, and if there are any other weapons in this room, any weapons in hands that aren't their own? That's not about to shake that blank serenity.

Or is apathy a better description?]

i

[scytheseeing]

[Oh no it's a child.

They're meeting his gaze with such intensity that he's not sure what to do. He looks to his left, then his right, then back down to this small human kid that's just waving at him. Does he-does he wave back? Does he ask where their parents are? Although he can guess they're probably not here, unless they're a permanent resident. That's a dumb question. This is ridiculous.

He's a grown undead man!! He can HANDLE one KID.]

Oh, uh, yes? Is there something I can help you with?

richard hendricks, silicon valley.

[lossy]

» i. blood in my veins

[ if it's not immediately obvious from the fact that you're looking at a guy who looks like he hasn't left his house in maybe six months (he has, okay, it's just he can't catch a base tan and when he does go out it's either to reup on energy drinks or go sit inside another building for a few hours), this may take a while. richard folds himself right into the corner of the room and crosses his arms tightly over his chest, eyes wide and vaguely limpid, chewing his bottom lip.

this is, like. definitely in his top ten of worst things that could possibly happen. maybe top five. who's counting? richard. ]

So... [ he says, hoping the tone he's affected is cool and light as opposed to horribly frightened. his hopes aren't particularly high, considering the crack in his voice halfway through that single syllable. ] So, this is, like... pretty fucked up, huh. Like, this definitely doesn't seem legal.

» ii. i am the great unknown

[ things just keep happening, huh. maybe smashmouth were right, with one crucial addendum: this huge, absolutely horrible troll thing starts coming and it don't stop coming. as if being chained to someone else like he's one half of the ship in someone's fanfiction wasn't enough, now he has to stare at this fucking thing. there's literally no way on earth he's ever going to be able to do anything other than stare at it with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide as dinner plates. perhaps even more unluckily, he'd barely even managed to say anything to his chain-mate before they'd both rounded a corner and walked right into this thing. his brain, clawing back from a total shortout where all it had done was fuzz like TV static, kicks back in, and now all he can think is aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! ]

Run? [ he forces out the word. it's not his fault that when he's working on base instinct everything he says sounds like a question. ] Run? Yes? We should run? Definitely run? Running? Now? Please? Please let's run?

» iii. wildcard

[ on the off chance you have another idea, feel free to just toss whatever at me! hmu on plurk crowders if you have Qs that need As! ]

oh my god | blood in my veins

[snogging]

[ Amy hasn't really said anything to the man who looks like if he could he would melt right into the wall. She's been busy pounding on the door with a fist and shouting things like "let us out," and something about the Doctor in a very angry Scottish accent. When she decides to give up on that plan with one final hard punch to the door that hurts her hand (if the way she shakes it afterward is anything to go by) she spins around to look at Richard again. ]

I don't think they care about what's legal. [ She's terse, and she knows she shouldn't be taking it out on him. So, when she speaks again, her tone is softer. ] Amy. [ She walks a bit closer holding out a hand to him to shake. Surely, this is a different planet or dimension or something weird. The Doctor would know immediately. ] I think they want us to fight. [ That's definitely not going to happen. She looks up towards the ceiling, looking for some means of escape. ]

Do you see any way out other than the door?

kravitz | taz balance

[scytheseeing]

blood in my veins
[This whole thing is a bit much for his taste. Look, he's trying to do his job, not get dragged into some inter-planer coliseum games. He has a few select words for whoever's in charge and once he touches base with the Raven Queen, so help him-yall gonna get dunked on.

And it's not like he's against fighting. It's a part of his job, but senseless violence with no meaningful outcome is a little gauche. He's got nothing to prove to whoever these people are-he's just mad that he's gonna have to do some overtime to catch up with whatever dingus he had been in the middle of tracking.

He'll defend himself if the other person fights back, but for now, he clears his throat and just tries to absorb all of this. It's been awhile since he's had to make small talk. A long ass while and usually Taako's there to help field some of this awkwardness with his chaotic everything. Oh well. He's a big boy. He can handle this and maybe-

Get some work done in the process. After all, he can still feel his death book against his chest, held inside the inner pocket. His Queen works in mysterious ways-maybe she did send him here to get some work done.]

So, you're, uh, alive, right? That's good. It must be very nice. You must enjoy the weather and things like that. [Pause] What's your name?

[ooc; Please note if your character has died in canon at any point if u want this reaper to throw a big ole hissy fit.]

great unknown

[Now he's just offended. This is rude.

Regardless of the other person's feelings on the matter, he's gonna use his big ole scythe to try and cut through the chain. It doesn't work, naturally, and he even tries to dimension hop by slicing the blade through the air-

To no avail.

This is, quite frankly, horrible. Being stuck against his will is terrible and also he hates this and also where is the Raven Queen. With a sigh, he presses a free hand against his face and just. Looks so frustrated. Terrible. But he's gotten out of stickier situations, so-]

What do you have? Surely something has to cut through these chains.

great unknown; team reaper duo in action baybeeee

[restinglichface]

[Kravitz doesn't even know what being offended is. Take a seat, boyo.

Lup's just been dropped into this hell maze after a two year stay in a totally different dimensional nexus, and instead of being reunited with her loving husband upon leaving that place, instead she's yeeted in here and handcuffed to her twin brother's boyfriend-slash-coworker-slash-boss.

Like. What the Fuck.]

I am not wasting spell slots on this.

[Sure, she will waste spell slots to send a mage hand across the room to grab a drink from the fridge, but not on this, alright.]

Can't you just - I'unno - Turn all glowball and slip out of 'em. Or call on Mama Bird's Divine Blessing to free us somehow. You've got her on speed dial, right?

wally west • dcau

[whoooosh]

i. blood in my veins

[ It turns out listening to the Betty that approached him and following her instructions might not have been the smartest thing Wally has ever done in his life. But people have been acting weird—well, weirder than usual anyway—and it seemed to be the best way to get to the bottom of why people seemingly feel the need to train for some reason.

Unfortunately, whatever answers he's seeking isn't to be found in the room he was hastily ushered into shortly after reaching his destination. What he does find in the room is another person standing in front of him and an assortment of different weapons hanging on a rack located in one of the corners in a clear indication of what is expected to happen here. ]

I can't say this is how I was expecting to spend my day.

[ The words come out a bit awkwardly, but the smile gracing his face is genuine and warm. He really has no inclination in taking part of whatever the hell this is supposed to be. ]

They don't seriously expect us to fight, do they? [ Wally glances back at the door, fiddling with the Flash Ring on his right hand all the while, before looking back at the only other person in the room. ] 'Cause I already do enough of that back home so I don't really need the practice.

ii. i am the great unknown

[ Aside from exchanging names with his partner and confirming neither of them has any clue what's going on, Wally has been uncharacteristically quiet as he tries to piece together what happened while they slowly move about the maze. All he really wants to do is speed through, but that's not an option because he is Wally West right now rather than The Flash.

He can't very well go about spoiling his civilian identity even in dreamland simply because he is impatient and bored.

It's only a few minutes into their journey that they face their first dilemma: the path forward they've been following is no more and in its place is two alternatives. Running his free hand through his red hair, Wally sighs, and looks at the person he is chained to with his lips curved up into a wry smile. ]

So... should we go left or right?

I!

[rage_on]

[He should have known better than to get his hopes up. Then again, he'd been distrustful the moment one of the locals had so boldly come his way.

The training equipment and the place he'd been led into had looked promising, but being locked in a room with an unwilling combatant? Where's the fun in that?]

Yeah, me neither.

[Replies the giant mutant turtle. Well, giant in that he's definitely the size of your average terrapin, although height-wise he's only about five-feet tall. He certainly looks like he'd be ready for a fight though, wrists and ankles bound in bandages, thick knee and elbow pads, and then there's the pair of sai sheathed behind him.

As Wally looks at the door, Raphael looks at Wally, perhaps sizing him up. Habit.]

I dunno, they weren't exactly talkative. Usually I wouldn't complain, I do this all the time at home with my brothers, but um, just pulling random people off the street to beat up? Where's the fairness in that?