EVENT ∞ LOG — July 125

[thediadem]

Event ∞ Log

In the Flesh

Jump ⇅ :: Visits — First Contact — Hitchhikers — Notes

∞ Prologue ∞

It's not real, it's not real.

Somewhere in the Blocks, late at night, a young woman repeats the words over and over, fumbling with her room key. She doesn't dare look over her shoulder again, begging her hand to obey. Her fingers are stiff and smooth, and it makes each movement more difficult. Eventually, the door gives way. She stumbles into the apartment, slamming it behind her and locking several bolts.

Leaning back on the door, she lets her key ring fall to the linoleum as she holds her hand up to her face. It isn't just her fingers now. Painted plastic has taken over her entire right hand, spreading up her forearm toward a ball-jointed elbow that creaks painfully. She grabs her neck with her flesh hand, sucking in a sharp breath as she tries to steady her heart.

It's not real, it's not real...

She takes another breath, then turns on the light. The bulb flickers. Hazy light flood the room with an incessant buzz.

She freezes.

A figure stands in the opposite doorway. It doesn't move, stuck in a pose with an outstretched hand—one made of flesh and bone. Her hand.

She screams.

Info & Mechanics — NPC Forum Post — Event Interaction ::: ⇅ Top

Strange Visits

Panorama

For the first week or two of July, life goes on as usual. You have a lot on your plate—jobs, loans, rent, that creep who won't stop staring at you when you're filling up your car—and the last thing you've got time for is other people's problems. Or maybe you find room to listen, anyway? Whatever the case, it's mostly a lot of stories and pointing fingers: a shopkeeper accuses his friend of stealing from him, somebody claims their boss must've skipped town to avoid paying the employees, and a woman is frantic about her missing husband. He never goes anywhere without telling her.

If you decide to look into it, none of the incidents seem connected. After all, people frequently go missing in the Diadem, friends betray each other, and businesses often go bankrupt, leaving their workers to pick up the pieces. Funny thing, though: here and there, you swear you glimpse a figure who isn't entirely flesh. Their features are just...a bit odd. Is it your imagination? When you move in for a closer look, something gets in your way and the figure disappears.

On the other hand, you think to yourself, it's not as though everybody on this planet looks standard. If a man can have horns, why can't his skin also be a bit plasticky?

Use the Event Interaction comment any time you need specifics or some direction for an element you're engaging within the event. This can be an NPC victim your character is questioning, an aspect of the diffusion zone your character is testing, or anything along those veins. While you're encouraged to make things up on your own, too, if you're ever unsure of the results or the answers you might get, approach us there!

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First Contact

The Fringes

Inevitably, you take the risk and head back into the Fringes. It has what you need, and the bizarreness in Panorama isn't making the city feel like much of a refuge, either. Besides, long trips aren't unusual for anyone in the Diadem. As you drive, you might even find yourself reluctant to return to the city. After all, there's so much across the multitude of diffusion zones that regardless of how dangerous it can be, perhaps some part of you is attracted to the thrill of the unknown.

If the promise of loot isn't enough, a note on the Forum might be. Here, you'll scroll across a brief message from who else but the ever-eager Felix Bjurstrom, joined by his daughter, Olive "Ollie" Bjurstrom. (Looks like he's got a new phone again!) If nothing else, the investigative or curious nature in you gets you going. What if this is a piece of the puzzle you need to go home?

If you want your character to scavenge items, check how that works. The Map identifies where each Quadrant is located.

Among the Shadows — Abandoned Mall

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 10-hour drive from Panorama, a standard American shopping mall rises through the cracked and broken highway. A portion of its vast parking lot melts into the road ahead and behind. There are cars in the parking lot, each one perfectly preserved: no rust, no dust, nothing.

The mall's lights are on. The moment you step inside, you'll notice that you're not alone. Inside, shadow corpses are everywhere, frozen in time. Their bodies show no signs of distress. If you try to touch them, a dark, ashy residue coats your fingers. You see a young couple linking arms, a mother bending over to pick up her child, and a man ordering his last meal at the KFC. It's as though they all just...stopped. While eerie, whatever force swept through here is long gone.

The upside is that nobody will bother you while you look around—aside from other fluxdrifts, of course. The shops and their offerings are stuck in the 90's. Big electronics are cosmic touched, rendering them worthless, but smaller electronics like cassette tapes, CDs, and Walkmans are all viable. You can also grab clothes, snacks, and (cheap) jewelry.

And, as you pass by the store windows, you see many mannequins on display. That's normal, so you don't think twice. At least, until you swear one of them keeps moving around the store. Though its pose never changes, it almost appears to...follow you? That can't be right. You must be seeing things.

Zone Effects
Touching any of the frozen shadows will cause the victim to believe that their companion(s) have transformed into monstrous creatures. Attempts to approach you will only register as an attack rather than placating gestures, while words will sound like snarls or spoken threats. An induced panic will make it more difficult to think logically and see through the hallucination. The illusory creatures can take the form of anything that might frighten or threaten you the most.

You can break free of the illusion through a variety of methods, including your own willpower, being knocked out by your friends, or seeing/hearing something that makes you realize it isn't real. The hallucination isn't overly intense, but it can cause a bit of havoc among you and your companions...and increase the likelihood a mannequin might make contact unnoticed.

Wall of Refuge — Strange Temple

©

In Quadrant 1, about a 6-hour drive from Panorama—and on the way to the abandoned mall above—stands a geometric structure made of metal and stone. Sharp angles shoot up from the ground to form a distorted hexagon. The gateway is littered with sigils: some weathered by time, others freshly carved into the rocky surface. They glow when you drive forward, beckoning you closer. Come in, whispers an unknown compulsion in your mind. You are home.

You may succumb to the whispers for any number of reasons: sleep deprivation, desperation for a place to rest overnight, or a need to hide from raiders or dangerous creatures lurking in another nearby zone. Regardless, you give in and enter the triangular entrance. The stone gate lifts to grant you passage, revealing an effigy of a multi-limbed being. A deity? A symbol of power? Though you're unsure, you continue deeper. Your footsteps echo across the cavernous halls.

Behind you, the heavy gate slowly closes with a rumbling finality. Despite the chilly entranceway, the interior of the temple is warm and inviting. Candles line the walls. Fountains flow peacefully. You can enter one of the many rooms to find a soft bed, fresh cakes, succulent meat, and fine wine available for you. Behind a silk curtain is a steaming bath lined with soothing floral herbs and oils.

Meanwhile, throughout your explorations, you might sense a figure or a shadow in the passageway. A glimpse of shiny plastic appears oddly out of place in a temple of this kind.

Zone Effects

• If you are a believer and decide to trust the gifts bestowed upon you, then you may safely indulge. The wine will warm you up, the food will fill your belly, and you can sleep through the night. When you awaken, you can safely leave the temple refreshed. Your vehicle will be outside, untouched, as if some power within was protecting your belongings.
• If you are a heretic and doubt the offerings you've been graciously given, the gifts will begin to rot and all amenities will crumble to dust. The more your cynicism betrays you, the more the temple will take until nothing remains except the oddly textured walls bearing down on you. As you examine the surface, you realize the stone is built from a manifold of dozens—no, hundreds—of twisted bodies. Their arms are raised in reverence, piled upon each other like human bricks. Their gaping mouths are frozen in a silent scream. As for you and your companions...what fate will await the nonbeliever?

The Last Stop — Foggy Town

©

In Quadrant 4, about a 3-hour drive from Panorama, east of the currently unused train tracks, a thick mist rolls through the highway. Here, the sky darkens rapidly into night and the temperature drops. If you've traveled unprepared, presuming the heat in Panorama spreads into the Fringes, you'll find that's not so. A chill spreads into your bones and creeps up the back of your neck.

Then the ground rumbles. The tremors shake your vehicle. Maybe it even makes you lose control briefly or sends you swerving off-road, straight into the fields. And in the middle of the fog, you see it: a figure standing in the middle of the field. Behind it are a few houses, making up a tiny rural town. The houses are dilapidated, many crumbling. Supplies within are minimal, and many items are broken or spoiled.

Do you approach? Do you drive past? Merely staring for a second too long will be enough for the hitchhiker to choose you as its ride, but its appearance may not be all that keeps you in place. In the distance is another bigger shadow. A much bigger shadow. It looms in the distance without true mass or form. Within the void of its body, a searchlight sweeps over the misty town. It does not move. It simply looks while the ground shakes. Each time its light catches a glimpse of something that doesn't belong—an animal, a vehicle that drove too deep into the tall grass, a raider that went too far into town—a sonorous howl reverberates through the zone.

Then the shadow will teleport to its target and crush the intruder without mercy before retreating back to its watchful post. And the intruder is indeed crushed: any living organism caught by the Light Guardian will be flattened with a horrifying crunch of broken bones and squished organs.

Zone Effects
While the Light Guardian can't be defeated or confronted, you can outrun or hide from its sweeping beam. If you stop far enough on the side of the road, it won't notice you...but you can still watch as it mangles an unfortunate raider or traveler. Possibly, you see the spray of blood or hear the screams before you run. Perhaps you realize how easily you could've met your own gory fate.

If you've left your car and gone too deep into the town before you realize the danger, you can do one of two things: you can risk hiding in an abandoned house in the town and hope that the sunrise comes. In zones like this, the day/night cycle is unpredictable, and many places are permanently cast in darkness. Or, you can try to run back to your vehicle and pray you don't get caught.

Alternatively, you've plowed directly into the field when raiders in pursuit force you into the zone. Should fortune favor you, they'll be obliterated by the Light Guardian while you flee. The beam tracks quickly, but can only shine in one direction at a time so the key is to bob and weave.

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Hitchhikers

Anywhere

Not everyone who enters the diffusion zone will pick up a mannequin, but the possibility is there. Once you make first contact, you will gain a hitchhiker. Unlike most aspects of the diffusion zones, this one has gathered into a storm, meaning the effects will breach even normally stable and anchored strongholds like Panorama.

Some fluxdrifts will brush off your problems while a few might believe you. Others will offer solutions in their own way, including a doctor who'll pay to obtain strange plastic limbs. Not everyone will pitch in to help. The city's big, populated, and somebody on the street turning doll-like doesn't affect them (...until it does). They've got a job to get to and mouths to feed.

Unwanted Passenger

When do you first notice your passenger? At any point, really. Perhaps it goes like this:

You glance in the rearview mirror and glimpse a figure in the backseat. When you spin around, there's nobody there. Then it happens again. This time, you realize it's not a person, but a dummy. A mannequin. It's sitting upright. And is it...wearing a seatbelt? Or maybe it's thrown itself across the back bench as though somebody tossed it there, uncaring.

This time, when you look back, it's still there. You pull over and dump it on the side of the road. That's taken care of, you think. You drive some more. For a few hours or even a day or two—depending on how long you've traveled—you don't think much of it. Then suddenly, it's back. And it keeps coming back no matter how much you try to get rid of it.

Or it goes like this:

You return from a standard trip into a diffusion zone. It went pretty well, you think. You found some clothes at a creepy mall and now you're ready to get some sleep. When you open your trunk to retrieve your belongings, you notice a mannequin stuffed inside, limbs bent at odd angles. You're a little weirded out, but you decide to dump it on the street and move on.

You shower. In the bathroom mirror, the mannequin suddenly appears behind you. Over the next few days, this continues. The mannequin appears in a booth across the diner as you're eating your eggs. It's behind a shelf in the corner store. It's in your closet. Each time you check, it vanishes...but then, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it's right there in plain view. It'll even let you throw it away, burn it, anything you can think of. But it always comes back.

However it plays out, you realize that people around you do notice it...sometimes. That doesn't mean anyone will believe you that things are just that weird. Most people have better things to do. They don't know you, after all, and even if they did, well, this place does have a habit of driving people a little crazy. Witnesses casually push the mannequin aside and tell you that's a funny prank. Your regular waitress pats your shoulder and suggests you get some sleep. You're not looking well. The shopkeeper demands you take that thing before you go. He's not responsible for your junk.

But there's a small chance you run into someone who seems to be going through what you are. Unfortunately, they seem to actually have it worse and aren't making much sense. Still, you can try questioning them and see what answers you get. At least, before you lose them for good. For some of you, the victim you run into is in especially bad shape...and you have to wonder how long before you end up the same.

Trading Places

For some of you, the mannequins might not do more than be a nuisance. While that's not ideal, either, it doesn't completely upend your life. Others are less fortunate. If you're one of the latter, you'll begin to notice symptoms.

The first time it happens, you're startled to hear the mannequin speak. To begin with, its voice might be guttural and unnatural, incapable of stringing more than a few words together. Then it seems to learn. It talks in full sentences. Its voice smooths out. It starts to sound more and more like you...right down to your speech patterns and accent. As symptoms progress with varying intensity—over days or weeks—you realize with dawning horror that you're losing parts of yourself. When you wash your hands, you notice a part of your skin is smooth and shiny. The next time the mannequin appears, its previously plasticky appearance is more flesh and blood.

Eventually, the mannequin becomes independent. It shops with your money. It steals while wearing a face that looks nearly identical to yours, especially from a distance. It calls your friend and says the things you would never say out loud to them. They're thoughts you've had, sure, but you know better than to hurt your friend's feelings...except apparently, you have. And now you can't even use your own voice to explain yourself. Your leg has been getting stiff. Your joints don't bend properly.

Meanwhile, the mannequin is now striding around smoothly. Its appearance is still uncanny and odd if anyone pays attention, but at a glance, it easily passes as a part of the crowd. As its final act, it's even absorbed small bits of your abilities if you have any. Not all of them, but enough to cause trouble. Throughout everything, you cannot harm your hitchhiker. Some unknown force stops you any time you think about it. You simply can't.

Related Incidents

The impact isn't contained only to those directly affected. The hitchhikers' influence spreads through the city. For some incidents, it's difficult to trace back to the source. For others, that's a little easier. Regardless, these occurrences could help you determine how to solve your own situation. Alternatively, if you've escaped unscathed, you can still find yourself dragged into a situation involving someone else.

Return to Sender

July 11 — The Forum: An anonymous poster contributes this bit of information that might catch the eye of those affected. You can try the same method, but it's a risk going back into the diffusion zones. No one can guarantee the specific zone you found the mannequin in is still standing. Further, you have to remember where you made contact to begin with.

If you decide to try it, be sure to take a friend. The less independent the hitchhiker, the more likely it will stick to your side even as you return it home. If the assimilation has progressed too far, though, you might have to utilize methods such as duct taping inside your trunk or strapping it down with ropes. It may struggle and say vile things to you or your companion.

Victimless Burn Victims

July 14 @ 03:00 — The Pavilion (East End): A handful of troublemakers grabbed some freaky mannequins wandering the street and, in a drunken stroke of genius, set them all on fire for no reason other than that they wanted to. Not only has this resulted in damage to the corner store nearby, but Enforcers have linked the incident to four hospitalizations at roughly the same time. Doctors from Saint Margery's Hospital (located in the Blocks) report that all four individuals suffered massive shock and claim to have endured unimaginable agony as if they had been "set on fire."

Curiously, none of them bear any physical wounds and, by all accounts, are completely fine (trauma aside). Notably, all four individuals were also suffering from various stages of "joint stiffness" and "hallucinations"...which have since completely vanished. You might wonder, is this the solution? Or perhaps the better question would be, is it worth it?

The Sculptor

July 15 — The Pavilion (Medical Clinic): Around July 14 onward, word begins to spread that a Dr. Maggie Wright (who insists on being called the Sculptor, though nobody seems to heed this request) will not only do an amputation for free, she will pay you for your limb if you are boasting an "unusual trophic change to the skin, resulting in a smooth and shiny texture." All she asks is she gets to keep the sample. Her promise is that she will study it to find a more permanent cure and, if she does, she will return the limb to you for reattachment.

Some end up trusting her. You wonder, maybe she could help? Dr. Wright will happily accept you as her patient if you agree. Her methods are indeed proper and sterile: she'll put you under and provide you with plenty of pain meds. She appears to have all of the equipment required to preserve the limb, too.

If you're suspicious, you can also pay her a visit, but you won't have much luck getting her in trouble or sniffing out any evidence of nefarious deeds. Her office hasn't got anything strange, she is indeed a real surgeon, and there are testimonials from patients who've had success under her care in the past. Plus, nobody's going to her who isn't doing so voluntarily (they've signed waivers)—even if you could argue how much desperation plays into their decision. Still...the thing about her "title" is a bit weird, right?

Dr. Maggie Wright is 5'2, Caucasian with a light Northeastern accent and silver hair often worn in a bun. She's in her 50s and looks fairly good for her age. Her voice is soothing. She has intense, wide blue eyes, which some might find unnerving, but that's not necessarily her fault.

∞ Notes ∞

• Mannequin contact is not required. Not everybody who goes into the diffusion will make first contact, and many won't. Characters can explore the mall, the temple, and the foggy field without ever picking up a hitchhiker.
• The diffusion zones described are only examples. Others will exist where mannequins can be found, including grocery stores, gas stations, abandoned parks, and more. You can make up your own, but check with us if you have any questions about limitations!
• The speed and intensity of all mechanics are entirely up to you. Generally, the earlier a character makes first contact, the more severe their consequences.
• Investigating the zones or helping others are perfectly fine ways to participate! Since the hitchhikers are meant to be more insidious, it won't be strange if your character isn't in the middle of the action right away or notices things a bit late.

Questions? Ask here

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Comments

[pse]

[ They work well despite Kimiko's inability to communicate verbally. She is able to get a measurement of the outfacing exterior wall, carefully scribbling the numbers down on a little notebook Tornado gave her for the mission. The rest of the exterior goes just as well, although the back wall is oddly longer than the front entrance by several hundred feet — according to the tape. Subsequently re-measures don't make it make sense. They move on to inside.

Tornado, squatting like a gremlin over some etchings on the far wall, waves to them.

He doesn't seem to have noticed the offerings just beyond the entrance. Impulsively, Kimiko opens the nearest door. The smell of freshly baked cakes wafts over to them. ]

[pse]

[ Kimiko catches the offer and pauses for a second.

It's quite kind, but— She struggles to convince herself that any sort of kindness is the correct response to her hitchhiker's brewing malice. The illusion of silent twin, gregarious twin is a misleading one.

Ultimately, she decides a moment of quiet is worth the stickiness. Scooping up her bowl and chopsticks, she abandons faux-Kimiko and joins An Zhe as his table. Her smile is small, appreciative.

The hitchhiker's concern is very token. To wit: ]

Hey, where are you going? [ And, ] I don't care.

daisy

[brandingproblem]

[It's no secret there are people from home. Wanda's here, a good friend. There's the big bad Punisher who is, sure, big, but doesn't seem to necessarily be bad. He's sure there must be others. City's a far cry from New York, but he's never going to know everyone in it.

So a SHIELD operative that knows who he is (no shit, you don't say) grabbing his attention after a few solid rounds in the Dome? A little unexpected, sure. Just not a surprise. Exchange of names, of numbers, and not much else. She was in the middle of something, and he needed to clean up, and they could compare notes some other time, yeah?

Yeah.

He debates it. Puts it off. Doesn't eagerly call her up the next day, or the day after that. Because it's all complicated. Because SHIELD fell rather spectacularly, and whatever was left operated in the shadows, and it's also hard to think about caring too much when five years rattle through his head every single day.

But he knows with these diffusion zones, the bigger ones anyway, a partner's always a better option than going it alone. Someone to have his back. And a road trip and an excursion are a good way to assess someone. Does she bail, is she headstrong, easily bored, science nerd, logistics--she's not a handler, that much he could figure out practically just by looking at her. SHIELD means something, though. She knows her shit. And if she was poking around the Dome, she can probably hold her own in a fight.

Fuck it. He doesn't want trapped in another flooding office, only relying on happenstance and the altruism of a fellow vigilante to get out of it alive. He gives her a ring. Offers up a ride. His ride's only got room for one passenger, but the trunk's got plenty of space if they manage to find a good amount worth taking and splitting.

And when he rolls up to pick her up, the first thing he says, perhaps uncharitably, is:] Don't make this weird.

[Please god he is not here to sign anything or regale people with Tales Of The Avengers or anything like that.]

[someonetostay]

I assume they’re normal inhabitants of this diffusion zone, although I’m not sure there’s a way we can be certain. Do you think our arrival changes anything? Shifts something?

[ Once Connor has his pants pulled down, his pink bikini bottoms are a stark contrast to his skin. Then he’s stepping into his new overalls, shimmying out of his jacket and tie before securing the straps over his shoulders.

For a moment, he holds out his arms in an awkward t-pose before relaxing. ]

Regardless, I think they’re alive to some degree — albeit shy. Otherwise why wait until they’re out of sight to move?

[oomfies]

[ There's a distant rev and rumble of an engine that she immediately writes off. They're probably going too fast for her to signal down anyway and, wouldn't it be so awkward if she tried to and they ran off? Not worth it. Never worth the disdain she'd feel at a job not done well. So she ignores it, crumbles in on herself a little more and starts sniffling once her nose starts running.

But then.. That engine. The engine , it keeps — sounding. Running? At a constant. Not far away, but close, constant. It's then that she looks up and sees a man. Forehead wrinkling at her figure, sunglasses kissing his hairline. Are those mutton chops?? Why do they look so.. Not bad? ]

Um.

[ Is she okay? She wants to say yes because it's embarrassing and too vulnerable to say no. In the end, she refuses to say anything, looking particularly pathetic when her lips press firm against each other in the interim. After a moment of silence, ]

My ride, uh — [ What's a kinder way to say they didn't want her in the car?? ] they had to, um, go...

[oomfies]

[ Sadly, this is something both Lottie and Lottiequin™ don't expect. Lack of familiarity with 2000's jargon. Give the doppelganger a moment to rework another angle.. ]

rude!

[ Still, cursing is bad!! ]

are u not up??

[hexcurse]

[ Jayce shakes his head:]

I don't know. By what I've seen so far? The larger the item, the more likely it is to be affected. [ He scans the other televisions on the shelves. ] Maybe over time... I could see more electronics becoming affected as the diffusion zone breaks down...

[ He's half musing to himself. The only way to prove that theory would be to remain in this place for an extended period of time. As curious as both Jayce and Viktor are about these zones, he can't see them remaining here very long.

Jayce doesn't want to remain here very long, despite the time it took to drive to this area. ]

[hexcurse]

[ Ah. Caught, Jayce winces. Yeah, that's what he meant. His companion seems to move on quickly from the offense, at least, and Jayce finds himself being given a once over - along with his choice of clothing.

He actually smiles, then laughs. ]

My regular tailor is a few universes away.

[ Along with his old wardrobe. The material from these shops feels rough and flimsy, cheap compared to what he was once used to. Jayce tilts his head to the baggy, flared jeans. ]

Speaking of baggy clothes to get tangled in...

[argumentiste]

[ How does one go about explaining to a near stranger that she nearly ran over what has led her to this exact moment? She's never been one to be so emotionally guarded. All too often she wears her heart on her sleeve. Her mother had often said that if all else failed when it came to telling she and Alphinaud apart, they need only look for the twin that was simply more emotive.

Case in point.

The insinuation (read: very accurate description) immediately has her lifting her head from the table, her bangs sticking to her forehead thanks to whatever residue might have been left behind. ]

What - I'm not moping! [ At least she has enough sense to wrangle her outburst back in a couple of notches. ] I'm...contemplating. And [ There's another moment's hesitation where she looks every bit her age: uncertain, conflicted, frustrated with a situation that she cannot solve with her own two hands. ] I wouldn't mind the company so long as that was a willing offer.

[tataille]

[ Well, that's fair. Benny's seen some weird shit in his day, although this is a first that he isn't particularly thrilled with. Especially when the damn thing keeps doing weird shit in his name. Jack's mannequin is equally creepy, and Benny's doing his best not to look at it. Except he kinda can't help it. It's right there.

He swirls his drink, slow, eyes flicking toward the thing at Jack’s side like it might lunge if he blinks. Probably will, with the looks Benny keeps giving it. ]

...You named it. [ Course he did. This kid is pretty weird, so, it tracks.

It’s not a question, not really. It's just said like Benny's trying to make peace with the facts as they arrive. He drags a hand down his face. ]

So did I. [ Lot of it Dean taught him, in those woods in Purgatory. Not a lot of down moments for kindergarten classes, but Benny's got the jist of it, for the most part. Can't remember the whole exorcism though, maybe he ought to hit someone up for that, lock it in tight. Bit fuzzy on the sigils, too. ] Didn’t work. It’s still followin’ me around, copyin’ my voice. Keeps messin’ with my shit like it’s got some kind of grudge.

[ Another drink. ]

Showed up in the trunk of my car the other day.

[tataille]

[ Bennequin pauses in its work, doesn't turn around when the name is called. Hands lifted halfway with a staple gun, its struggling a little, plastic fingers having trouble holding it. ]

Help me with this. [ The voice is hollow, Benny's but not, the Louisiana drawl far too exaggerated, some kind of caricature of the man its impersonating.

Somewhere, Benny is sick of this fucking thing, searching high and low for it, unaware of the bullshit it's currently causing. ]

[carcajous]

[ The keys jingle. Logan's eyes roll. A couple exits the Dome, arm in arm, and glances at Kimiko handcuffed to Kimiko.

That. He grunts. ] I don't have time for this shit.

[ He's not standing around playing tug-of-war with her mannequin. What he does notice is that it hasn't tried to attack the real Kimiko. In fact, it seems to have let itself get dragged wherever she goes. Up to now, anyway.

Wonder if that courtesy extends to him. Guess they'll find out.

Logan looks back at Kimiko. ] That thing has your powers, too?

[ Can he pick it up like it's your average hundred-pound girl and throw it over his shoulder, or is it strong enough to put up a real fight? 'Cause the only other solution he can think of here is to knock it out. Which is an option, and any other time he'd have already done that, but seeing as the thing is Kimiko's twin, Logan's waiting for her cue for what she wants to do. ]

[carcajous]

[ His eyebrows touch the bottom of his raised sunglasses. Some asshole left her in the middle of nowhere?

Sure, it could be bait, she could be a hell of an actress, and maybe a different rider might've abandoned her, too, in case she spells trouble—but Logan's not so much trusting as he just hasn't got as many reasons to play it cautious. Not a lot can take him out. Mostly, he sees a girl in tears on the highway while night's starting to dim the sky, and that's where his mind's at.

Besides. Trouble seeps through the cracks sooner or later, anyway. ]

Where're you headed?

[ He'll turn around and bring her back to the city if he's gotta. But he is trying to make good time toward the mall to see about that missing girl. ]

[carcajous]

[ His forehead wrinkles. So much for getting some sleep. Now he's looking at running around in the sewers for the next two hours. The biggest pain in the ass? He can't even track it his usual way. It smells like Frank and he's got a Frank walking on his left, so as far as his nose is concerned, the thing he's searching for is right beside him.

This late at night, it's not deserted, but it is quieter, the air filled with buzzing neon lights and tiny feet scurrying behind the alleyways. Funny. He doesn't expect Frank to actually start asking—the man's more walled off than Logan is, which is saying something—and Logan's realizing they've exchanged more words tonight than they ever did over a game of pool. Not that he minds. All things considered, he likes Frank, in that way you can like a guy solely for being the most noninvasive presence you could ask for.

He lets out a dry chuckle. ] Your government, actually. I don't remember a whole lot. Pretty sure they wanted it that way.

[ Been a while since he ran off chasing the holes in his past. These days, it...maybe he just doesn't need those answers as much. What's it matter anymore? If he had a family, they're long dead. If he had friends he forgot, they're long dead. He's got more important things, more important people, to look out for now. But he won't pretend it doesn't bother him, especially when he's got somebody like Wade Wilson popping up who seems to know far more about him than he knows about himself. ]

[carcajous]

[ Any other time, Logan would've left Scott right then and there, let him do what he wanted while Logan takes care of shit his own way. But this isn't Scott being a stubborn jackass. It's something else. Something that's actually got him worried. Now they're at an impasse, Scott rooted to the ground, Logan refusing to let go, and the only solution he can come up with is to give Scott a good knock over the head and carry him out.

Fuck. Actually? He's about to do exactly that when a sharp crack splinters the air. Shotgun. As he thought: they weren't gonna be alone for long. He swings around. Attention divided, his grip loosens on Scott.

It happens fast. A split second, maybe less. The beam swivels back to the right, hones in on the blast. He hears the liquid crunch before he sees it, like wet clay and shattered pottery thrown against the ground, a scream cut short. There isn't much to see, really. Just a red spray that paints the grass, illuminated bright under the beam's flare. The massive shadow looms above, too tall for him to see all of it even when he cranes his neck, and for a moment, he's frozen in place, too, eyes fixed ahead. ]

Holy shit.

[ Okay, now can they get the hell outta here? ]

[carcajous]

[ While she listens, Logan ducks down to see what else is stored under the counters. Old calculator, receipt rolls, rubber bands. He comes back up with a flashlight he figures might come in handy, setting it on the counter as he pauses over Lucina's question.

Well. ]

A lion. [ Logan glances at the CD's cover. ] King.

[ It's a children's movie, they weren't all that subtle with the title. ]

Evil uncle kills his dad and steals the throne, kid runs away. Then he grows up and goes back for it.

[ This is why he subbed for the combat exercises, not English class. But now he's thinking some time, he should show her the theatre in the city or see if he can dig up a VHS or something in the mall. Gotta be a video store around here, right? ]

You probably had, what, plays? One of those puppet shows?

[ Maybe? He doesn't know. He's old, but he's not that old. ]

[thetruefocus]

[ Charles doesn't know what to say to that for a moment. His mind scrambles. He knows what is happening with these mannequins, he's seen people come into the hospital nearly turned into one, with no memories, but it hasn't been personal like this. He sees the effort that it's taking for Erik to even stand and he internally panics because he doesn't know how to fix this physically. But perhaps that's not what is needed. Erik's put distance between them by accident. ]

I'm your best and oldest friend. My name is Charles.

[ It's a new level of pain to imagine a world in which Erik doesn't know him. They've gone through so much together, some of that very down, but it's never changed who they are to each other in the ways that matter. He has to push past this sorrow, it's unhelpful to both of them. He reaches out his hand. ]

Take my hand. Let's go inside. I can help you remember.

[ In this one way, Charles is the best person for someone to be around when everything is going wrong. He will have to find Erik's mannequin and deal with it since he knows that Erik cannot himself. Burning it is the worst case scenario since he knows now what that does to people, but something must be done before it ruins everything. Perhaps they can drop it back off in the quadrants, Charles can do that if he gets it into his van. He'll figure it out once he handles this first.

This is part of what he was worried about with Erik's isolation, that doing so would put him at higher risk when things would go wrong. ]

The Mall B

[godjr]

[ Jack has become a magpie and wandered the mall gathering items into a large backpack he found and crammed full of things. He is also wearing some of his gifts, including three flannels that are too big for him, a few pairs of sunglasses on the top of his head, and some colorful scrunchies on his wrist. There are other gifts hidden away, but he looks properly 90s without meaning to be.

He has looked at almost every single shop since coming here except for this one, so it's merely one stop on his journey. He isn't concerned about anyone else here so hasn't been careful or mindful of others. Jack doesn't look startled or concerned by the gun being pointed at him, he simply lifts his hand in a friendly wave. ]

Hi Jason!

[ He recognizes him from the roof right away. Jack never forgets a person. He's only met so many in his life and while that number is climbing, they're still important as individuals. He's glad to see him though. ]

Are you shopping too?

[carcajous]

[ Honestly? Logan's glad to see them in one piece, too. Place is big, unpredictable, and Wade bombarding him with a million texts had him switching numbers a couple of weeks ago. (For all the good that did.) Unless he knew where to find the person for a face-to-face, there were a few folks who fell through the cracks. Sheer coincidence, more than anything, that's gotten him to run into Alphinaud all the way out here.

He'll give the kid his number again later. ]

This? Yeah, it's [ he slides it over for Alphinaud to take a look ] a Walkman. Plays music. They used to be everywhere back in the day.

[ He'd say before new inventions took over, but it's a little more complicated than that. Nobody's really making that sort of thing anymore—mundane entertainment for the masses of no value to the war—haven't been for the past, hell, five? Six years? Not on his world, anyway. Whatever resources and engineers are around, they've all been recruited to advance the Sentinel program. ]

[carcajous]

[ Wha—who's he? His lips tug downward. How come he's the one getting that turned around on him? As far as he's concerned, he was minding his business dumpster digging when this guy showed up yelling. His reply's about to be just that 'til he glimpses...

A few points. One screwed up eye, the brace. Right, those things. Again? You know, for not having gotten one hitched to him, he's bumped into too many of them for his tastes. ]

I'm fine. [ That fucking hurt, actually, but he's technically fine. He hops out of the dumpster. ] Not sure I can say the same for you, pal. What happened?

[ Frank had been pretty intact. Karen had been pretty intact. Kimiko was pretty intact. Even Clint wasn't too bad off. This is the first time he's really seen somebody look this banged up, and it's hard to say if it's the mannequin bullshit doing it or something else got to him. ]

[carcajous]

[ Considering they spent a considerable chunk of time in the Blackbird together in his year, it isn't as unfathomable as it might've been ten years ago to bump shoulders with Magneto now and then, younger version or no. Erik's content to ignore him; Logan's good to do the same, so. Works fine. He can live with that.

Which is why he doesn't look up when he hears Erik a few feet away. Busy fighting this damn lock for the tenth fuckin' time this week, anyway, jiggling the key a couple millimetres to the right to try and make it actually do its job. Not 'til Erik is behind him, calls his name, does Logan glance over his shoulder. What d'you want? sits on the tip of his tongue, but something about Erik's expression makes him pause.

Logan's eyes narrow. Ah, shit. This can't be good if Erik's coming up to him looking like that. He looks back at the door to the room he shares with Charles. This is becoming his problem, isn't it?

Fuck. He pulls his key out and turns around again. ]

Yeah. [ For once, he's too uneasy to be a dick about it. Look, Erik's a lot of things, and Logan's got a long list of words at the ready to describe him, but scared isn't one. ] What is it, what's goin' on with you?

[carmesi]

( one would think that erik lying to wanda about his name, keeping his own abilities secret, would be enough of a deterrent for her to not want to trust him. in coming clean about his name and being someone who does not look at her with fear or worry, it has been more than enough for wanda to want to grow close to the older man; there is a sense of ease with him that she finds, trusting that no harm will come to her if he can help it. not that she's entirely helpless, but in a world where everything is new, where she is without a guiding figure like steve rogers, being able to let herself trust erik is pretty significant for her.

so much so that she agreed to the idea of traveling together towards one of the diffusion zones. on the one hand it saves her gas and the energy of traveling on her motorcycle, but on the other — it really is a long drive.

jostled awake from the quiet nap she had fallen into after several hours into their drive by erik saying her name, she sits up and lets her eyes roam around as she gets reacquainted with her surroundings before glancing forward properly.

it seems they've arrived.

stepping out of the car, wanda stretches for a while until she's got the weariness pulled away from her joints. checking her phone, thankfully still charged, she can tell that it's been at least ten hours since they left panorama. pocketing it, she looks over at erik. )

I think the smart thing would be not to separate.

( not that she thinks that was at any point something he would suggest they do. she mentions it as a bit of a rhetorical statement, thinking of how many horror movies went wrong when the group split up.

looking back at the mall, as she steps closer to him, wanda adds, )

...I don't really sense anyone else inside. ( even with the lights on. ) But I don't — think that means it's empty. ( suppose what she is trying to say is, ) I'm getting a weird feeling.

[faithfall]

[ Adrian nods, taking no offense for once. He's certainly been foolish enough to make promises he couldn't keep for the sake of shoring up doomed hope, but he has learned his lessons from that — and he can't fault Eliot for ensuring it. ]

Allow me to explain. [ He flicks open the buttons on one of his sleeves and pushes it up as he speaks. His entire arm, from wrist to elbow, is tattooed in nearly illegible handwriting. The skin of his arm writhes, feathers beginning to poke through, though Adrian pays it no more than cursory attention. The bulk of Eliot's body is a useful blind to prevent the children from seeing this, so he might as well summon Morgan, since he'll have need of her. ] I can't break the curse itself — my magic isn't strong enough — but I am able to transfer the mannequin's connection to another willing host. I will take it. You need only reassure the children that all is well. I suspect my appearance is not the most comforting, and neither is the appearance of my magic... But I would not risk harming a child with anything I was not entirely certain of.

[ Morgan takes only a few seconds to fully emerge from his arm, hopping up to his shoulder to preen her feathers. Golden eyes line the tops of her wings, a single large one peeking out from the center of her chest. Otherwise, she looks like an ordinary white raven. Adrian twists the buttons closed at his wrist again with practiced ease. ] Mr. Spencer, are you listening?

[heavymetals]

[ He knows from that silence alone how his own words land, even without having any recollection of this man. He would feel bad, were he not currently more consummed by doubt and fear than anything else, but he also doesn't regret admitting to it. Because trying to pretend like he knew him would not last long, and would not serve a single purpose at the moment.

Unless his purpose was to send this man away and go back to drowning in the hopelessness of his situation, but he's desperate for any chance to fight back, and glimpse of hope that shines his way. When the stranger— Charles; he mustn't forget again— offers a hand to him, he stares down at it, hesitation clear as day in his expression, but there's not enough energy in him to reject the gesture, to worry or be paranoid about this being some kind of trap. How much worse could all this get for him at this point, really.

He reaches out, slow not only because he's hesitant but also because his body only allows him to move so fast right now, and when his palm presses against Charles's, he feels a relief greater than he can put to words. He lets out a shuddered breath, fingers curling tightly, then he moves aside awkwardly so that he has enough room to come inside. ]

I don't know how you will... help. [ He pauses, limping stiffly, trying not to lean too much of his weight on Charles. ] No one I've met until now has been able. I don't even know where it is.

[ By 'it' he means his doppelganger, apparently smart enough to know that sticking around for long wouldn't work out well for it. ]

[carcajous]

[ Hey, you brought them here in the first place.

He's gotta know how this guy netted himself more than one of these things. Who the hell did he piss off? And why's it suddenly a situation Logan's involved in? He came out here for a smoke, not to—seriously, he couldn't get ten minutes?

Christ.

There's no time to help the man up; Logan does the next best thing, grabbing one of the mannequins that landed in the heap of tangled limps and hauling it off. From what he's seen, they don't die, but it doesn't mean they can't be slowed. Which is what Logan does, or tries to, grabbing a leg and wrenching hard. Plastic cracks, twists, then pops out of the joint. Legless, it collapses but doesn't stop, just scrabbles along the ground, zombie-like.

At least that confirms it's not a person. Hard to tell sometimes when the victim takes on the plasticky texture, too.

Not...that he thought it was when he ripped its leg off. He didn't think at all, actually. It's fine, alright? Nobody lost a real limb. ]