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

works for me! I HOPE I GOT THIS RIGHT, gonna do something besides Cait first...

[hexcurse]

[ Jayce stops in his tracks at the warning, uncertain of what he's just walked into - and then even less sure a second later. Was the aisle empty when he first turned the corner? The drip, drip, drip of the broken pipe becomes increasingly loud and distracting. He brings a hand to his face with a grimace, panic gripping him as the scene shifts again - briefly this time - to a strange place he's never seen before.

Another hand reaches out to brace himself against the shelves, his equilibrium in danger. ]

What the hell is this? [ he demands, taking a half step back, heart pounding in his chest. He doesn't know Sunday very well, certainly not well enough to blindly trust with whatever is happening right now.

The request to keep his mind blank doesn't register. His gaze shifts with accusation from Sunday to the mannequin that looks like him, unable to stop his mind from conjuring the creatures that have been haunting him in the corners of his vision. ]

[exarched]

[ He is unsurprised by Emet-Selch's quip and equal parts unamused--through G'raha will use lethal force when necessary, it isn't his default position. Considering the state of things in this world, it is entirely possible that these people are low on supplies and are just looking out for their own.

That doesn't mean he plans on making himself an easy target nor forgoing what he has found, but still.

(Then again, Paradox is tempting.)

But they clearly have bigger problems than some raiders who clearly picked the wrong victims. G'raha doesn't give it a second thought and rushes after his former adversary, eyes darting between the broken down building and the strange form in the mists, obscured and vanishing quickly once the light of whatever that great beam was diminishes.

With some forethought, G'raha reaches out and sends a gust of wind towards the entrance to the fallen house, sending the door flying open, but clearing a path for them. He leaps over some debris on the way only to skid to a stop once they're inside. ]

By the gods, what was that!?

[ The sounds of gunfire seem to have paused, but only for a few seconds. Peering through holes in the siding, the shots quickly turn out into the field. ]

[carcajous]

[ Fair enough.

Logan hasn't given too much thought to Nadine's behavior, in truth, but he's not exactly hanging around the regular folks, either, is he? She's quiet, sure. She's still more personable than others he's come across, though it's true they haven't spoken more than the once.

Still. Nothing wrong with keeping to yourself.

Anyway, government bullshit sounds about right. Ain't it always? ]

Unlucky to be lucky, huh? [ Yeah. ] I know that feeling.

[unsunder]

[ This world is largely unforgiving, and a starving raider is still a raider who will do the unthinkable and worse for a bit of coin or a scrap of food. The sooner the more heroically-inclined among them come to learn that, the better off they'll be.

Their mad dash sees them safely into the dilapidated house, thanks to a bit of help from G'raha's wind magicks. A wave of Emet-Selch's hand slams the door shut behind them, and the whole structure gives a mighty creak but holds. ]

How should I know?

[ It's rude to assume that all eldritch horrors are acquainted with one another, thank you.

Emet-Selch moves to a smashed out window and carefully peers outside. The raiders seem to have captured the attention of that sweeping searchlight and the creature it's attached to. Gunfire kicks up again, but it does them little good. That dark shape moves far too fast, reducing anyone it touches into paste in moments. ]

As least it's doing us a favor.

[carcajous]

[ Uh-huh. Contemplating.

Since she hasn't indicated he oughta fuck off, Logan sits down, elbows on the table by the time she agrees to his company. Usually, this isn't his thing. He doesn't go around trying to make people feel better or whatever, not least because he's shit at it, but...it's different, y'know, when he's gotten to know her brother a bit, too. And yeah, they did run him over, but one, he got back up; and two, he supposes some piece of him feels responsible for them after he saw them back to the city in one piece.

Anyway, she's just a kid. Even if she's got her twin, she must've left behind some sort of family, right? Parents, friends? After five, six weeks, place has gotta start feeling a little too permanent. He gets he's not like others. Temporary or something else, he's not rooted to any one reality. He has the X-Men with him, a few of them—Charles, especially—and for him, that's enough to make it as close to home as he's looking for. The rest is...

Background noise, maybe. He wants to go back 'cause he's got shit to take care of, but he's not gonna say he misses anything about the rubble and gravestones he left behind. ]

I got nowhere else to be.

[messenger]

I think it must change something.

[ they have an affect on this temporary world whether they mean to or not. though he can't imsgine the reason the mannequins exist, he can imagine they might have awakened them from whatever slumber they slept.

castiel looks at connor and blinks. ]

You're wearing your swimsuit?

[ hold up ]

[thetruefocus]

[ It hurts him to see Erik like this. He has such a strong presence and he is someone who likes to be physical, who probably would see this as a waking nightmare when in full mind. Charles knows a thing or two about very suddenly having less mobility. When they first met, Erik was this uncertain about being close to people, but Charles pushed right past that, he made them connected immediately. He's being gentler about it this time, but it's no less his intention.

Charles threads their fingers together and squeezes, running his thumb over Erik's knuckles as comfortingly as he can. He manages to squeeze his chair in when Erik moves aside and is skilled these days at one-handed movement, so he can keep Erik's hand. He misses his chair that only required a tap of his fingers, but that's not possible now. ]

Take a seat. I'll show you.

[ He moves his chair to the edge of where Erik can take a seat. ]

I cannot fix your body, my friend, not yet, but your mind I can help you with.

[ If he can get Erik back to himself mentally, or at least better aware of the situation, they can figure out the physical next. He may ask for help from Logan or someone else to look for his mannequin. It must look like Erik himself now, with how much he's changed, so they could spot it easier. ]

Look at me.

[godjr]

(Jack is going to reply but he peeks his head around and one of them spots him. That is escalating the situation faster than he expects, which is unfortunate, but not a surprise. He is very bad at stealth, he always has been. And downright terrible on jobs that didn't involve him throwing people around with his powers.)

Oops.

(He says that so casually about a situation where ordinarily he would have gotten both of them killed for it, but he hefts up his backpack and then reaches out to put a hand on Frank's shoulder. The raiders start talking and walking toward them, brandishing their weapons.)

Sorry I can't warn you better.

(With the sound of wings around them, Jack flies them up a floor and to better cover. For Frank it'll feel more like teleportation, they're one place and then a second later they're somewhere else. They're now a distance away from the raiders. His flying has had limitations so he can't just go across to the city with a blink of an eye, but it still works just fine in short distances.

He feels bad though, he ordinarily would have explained it to Frank before he moved them, but the mistake made it more necessary to move. He had a pair of sunglasses on the top of his head, classic 90s style, and they flip down to his eyes. He hopes it makes him seem kind of cool for a moment.)

See, no problem. I can just get us out of here.

Two, mostly. Skipping right past the One of it all.

[tirejacked]

[Rooftops are a favorite perch for the night crowd.  No surprise they run into each other somewhere high above the streets. ...eventually.

First, though—He’s seen them around, pressed at the pattern of them out of (professional?) curiosity. More of those familiar crescent-shaped calling cards, a number of them. Painted on walls, doors.  Then, a few times, brutally carved into miscellaneous hogtied creeps and company. (Or at least, one would hope they're creeps and company. They don't seem very interested in answering questions.)

Jason doesn't have a chance to ask from the horse's mouth, because interrupting one conspicuous man in white on a rooftop the first time just gets that energy turned his way. Despite that mask tied hastily around his face—(who does he really think he’s kidding)—he's familiar enough. Even after just a few traded blows, fights the same as he did taking care of business in the motel. Moves fast, hits like a truck, doesn’t bother very much about dodging.  Knowing that in advance ought to make it easier to deal with, but Jason isn’t exactly at his best right now. For, y'know. Reasons. 

Spector (not-Spector) tanks a hit and presses.  Jason shifts his weight, prepares to pivot out of the way. And then his knee freezes up. 

The Moon-Mannequin takes this opportunity to battering-ram him right off the roof. 

Which might have been the end of little old him, but he was hopping around rooftops before he was in middle school. Reflex kicks in fast. He snatches the side of a fire escape and swings down hard enough to wrench at his shoulder, but steadies. Lands both feet to brace on the bricks of the walls and looks up just in time to see the smear of white-and-red above him vanish.

Great. And here he'd thought they'd had a bit of an understanding. He spits blood, then hauls himself onto the fire escape, crouching there until he regains feeling in his shoulders. And then he starts moving.

So: all that to say, when he catches a(nother) flash of white on dark sky, he zeroes in on it. Lands on the opposite edge of the roof that Marc is crouched on. All quiet, though he's not exactly planning on an ambush, here. And he's just close enough to catch—

"I'm gonna kill it."]

Y'know, keep saying that and someone might start to take it pretty personal.

[The first time they'd met, his tone had been evasive, sure. But laconic, provocative, curious enough.  Even when he'd been leveling threats at the guys in the motel, there was a certain cool confidence, there. Now, though, for all the casual front, there’s an edge of restrained anger in his voice.  A set in his shoulders and a hand at his belt that says he’s here spoiling for a fight. Or anticipating one.  Or recently came from one, if the look of him has anything to say about it.  Blood in his teeth.  Bruises already purpling on a cheekbone, probably more that can't be seen. (A little to the left and you might have broken his nose, you jerk.)]

[hexcurse]

What are you doing?

[ Jayce hasn't risen from his spot on the ground, though he's dropped the headphones around his neck and turned the walkman off with a click. He's eyeing the spoon, the jar, and then finally Laszlo, eyebrows raised - curious about the man himself, but not willing to get closer to those shadows yet. Possibly at all. He's run through theories of what they are or were caused by - catastrophic event, side effect of whatever brought this mall to this world, some kind of cosmic impression left behind. He hopes it's the latter, that the shadow figures were never alive to begin with, that their counterparts are happily existing in their own universe. ]

[faithfall]

[ He doesn't know her. After that first night when she'd killed those thieves in the blackout, they'd only seen each other in passing. She was polite enough, and Adrian had returned the greetings in kind, but her smile still sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

He's afraid of her, certainly, but perhaps not for the right reasons. Her words haven't left him: He who is brutal first often emerges the victor. What can he possibly say to change her mind, if the world has already left her with such a cold impression? Can he even be certain that she's so wrong, when his life has been so sheltered? It would make more sense to steer clear of her entirely, but the stubborn part of him still wonders: if really believes that, why has she spared anyone at all? Is this really her?

Adrian has stared death in the face often enough to recognize it when he sees it, and thoughts of speaking sense into her flee as she begins to move toward him. He reacts on instinct; light spills from behind him. His wings burst forth, spreading wide to pull him up into the darkening sky.

Raphael, show her your— A shard of red disrupts the spell before he can finish the cast, piercing through the center of his right hand mid-gesture. Adrian cries out, and after that instinct takes over entirely. She's incredibly fast, deadly and fluid, but he's dealt with that before. For someone so reluctant to fight, he's certainly capable of keeping a level head even when he knows he's far outmatched.

He uses his wings to avoid the edges of her blood red spikes, his fingers contorting with every cast even as his hand bleeds freely, staining the white of his shirt. He summons a wall of light to blind her, weaving out of her line of sight, only to pull white hot spears from his construct and hurl them at her when she tries to get close. Even still, he only aims to wound her, and not to kill her. She does not return that favor.

When he hits her, he can smell the chemical scent of burnt plastic, but it's not nearly enough to stop her. Adrian is more resilient than his delicate frame might suggest. He knows where he can take a blow to avoid a fatal injury if he must, but he still takes far more damage than he deals. Eventually, his hand seizes in the middle of a cast, and it's all the opening she needs to send her spikes through his wings and drag him down to the pavement, pinning him there. He doesn't get up again.

He coughs, tasting blood, fighting for breath. Punctured lung. A half-dozen wounds that have missed major arteries, non-lethal but non-trivial. That's not ideal, Adrian thinks dimly.

He can hear her footsteps moving towards him, even if he can't see her now. ] Don't... have to do this.

[ Whether she's the real Knave, being taken over by plastic, or simply a monster wearing her skin — there isn't much he can do, now. He might as well try to reach her one last time. ]

[seavere]

[ survival is instinctual even when she's suffering, even when those instincts don't always lead her to the best decisions - luckily this time around she does lay still and quiet until the light disappears. only then does she allow herself to exhale, and she cannot shift a few inches away fast enough when his hand pulls away. ]

[ she doesn't sit up though - the anxiety of touch doesn't give her a death wish. ]

[ anne looks up and watches the light move away, welcoming the dark. her glance darts to him quickly when he speaks, but it still takes her a solid few seconds before her own low voice follows. ]

What the fuck is it supposed to be?

[hexcurse]

[ If she'd meant to do him harm, she would've done so earlier. Offering his partner's name doesn't seem like a risk. Maybe they've even met already. ]

Viktor. He's uh - tall. You can't miss him.

[ He glances over her shoulder again. ]

Are you a storm chaser?

[ He's been trying to talk to as many a he can find, trying to gather as much information as he can about these diffusion zone events. And coming here to investigate had been part of the plan - at least initially. ]

[faithfall]

[ Adrian's mouth presses into a thin, unhappy line, though it isn't in response to Marc's voice. It's in response to nothing, in fact. ]

Speaking to a god who, despite inviting me here, does not not wish to respond. [ His tone is modulated by the kind of careful restraint that leaves one to wonder if it's a bitter complaint or a simple statement of fact. Adrian presses the hand flat to his chest, inclines his head politely as if excusing himself from a social obligation, and then turns from the statue. ] I saw your motorcycle outside so I thought you might be in here. Do you know this god?

[ Perhaps a better question would be are you familiar with but he isn't thinking of that right at this moment. He looks Marc over with a critical eye; though he doesn't say anything about it just yet, he makes no attempt to hide the fact that he's assessing for injuries. ]

[hexcurse]

[ Jayce follows behind her, popping open the front of the music player to find a type already in there. The title reads like gibberish to him, if they're only testing to see if it works he supposes it doesn't matter. ]

Ah - double As, it looks like. [ He pulls open that back panel again to show her raised symbols indicating the battery type. ] Two of them. Then you'll want to match the positive and negative electrodes to the signs on the inside...

[ Shops in Panorama are full of similar items, even if the technology isn't what he's used to back home. He's been catching up quickly.

It's all a nice distraction, too. ]

[hexcurse]

It's more like a... phonograph? [ By her confusion, he expects she comes from a world on a different technological trajectory. It makes finding the right terminology somewhat difficult, he's been finding. ]

It can't catch signals like the radios, it only plays from - well, in this case, a cassette tape...

[ Which had been completely new to him until he can here, to his wonderment. He taps his ear. ]

The sound comes out of those, but only loud enough for you to hear. Convenient, don't you think?

[ He clearly seems to think so, although his enthusiasm is consciously tempered at the moment. ]

[satanicpanics]

[ It is free money! Eddie is a bit shocked he’s the only one he’s seen give it a second thought. In fact, he’s shocked that there’s anything left in here at all. He glances toward Anne and her frankly jut plain cool leather jacket/pirate hat combo as he shoves a handful of pennies into the pocket of his own leather jacket. He can’t and won’t judge; he refuses to move on from band t-shirts and ripped jeans, even if there is much nicer stuff for the taking in the mall. ]

You know, I’d say there’s a near zero risk of drowning.

[ He grins and loudly taps his foot against the bottom of the fountain, as if to convey the lack of splashing. Bone dry, not even a puddle; it’s clear that it’s been empty for some time. ]

At least, uh…[ He pauses to skim the empty fountain and do a few calculations in his head--or estimates, rather. ] Fifteen dollars in pennies left though. If you’re interested.

[exarched]

[ Hope is all they have sometimes and it is always worth fighting for. Curious as he is and as much as he would like to study this phenomenon, it is true that the living are the priority.

The mention of a toy shop makes G'raha's ears perk up again and he nods with a light smile. ]

An excellent idea. To my understanding, facilities such as these should cater to all members of a family in ways of commerce. [ A pause. ] Unless...you are already familiar?

[ He has to remember that while some of the things here may be new to him, they certainly aren't for many others.

G'raha takes a few steps closer and extends his hand towards the not-quite-a-miqo'te woman. ]

I am G'raha Tia. By your leave, Miss...?

[thediadem]

Hello! With Strange attempting to break the illusion and since you are submitting as a result of the Heretic option, there would not be an outcome that will prove Alucard correct as the Believer option is the other side of it and would not provoke a Heretic response.

If Strange goes through with this, are there any certain themes or flavors that you would prefer? Something physical or psychological?

[kingsroads]

Nasty and psychological, please!

[exarched]

[ In some respects, G'raha does hope that the myriad of vehicles before them aren't all just for show. There had been a few other out on the road and it does seem like these diffusion zones are bound to draw in explorers and opportunists alike, missing children aside. The more out on the look, the better. ]

I hope you're right.

[ He motions to the mall itself as he trots over to walk at Sciel's side. ]

I was told much the same, though I am afraid I underestimated the size of this place. I had been expecting something more akin to a shopping promenade rather than a singular, admittedly enormous, structure.

[ Best that way to secure goods and withstand weather, perhaps? But it is good to know that Sciel is equally unfamiliar.

Luckily for the both of them, after they work their way through the maze of abandoned cars, there is a directory posted on the outside. A very long directory. G'raha's eyes widen, brows raising. ]

Twelve...there are a...healthy variety of options, aren't there?

[exarched]

The large ones, specifically? How passing strange.

[ Curious--why would size be a factor? Does whatever this affliction is need a larger surface area to take effect? G'raha brings a hand to his chin as he considers. ]

Have you been here long? I arrived only bells ago, myself, though I did notice a similar look of sickness in the signs above some of the food stalls.

[ Mayhap the other man has a greater experience with these things, if his theories are based on continued observation. ]

[exarched]

[ How should he not know? Though, to be fair, G'raha had been asking with little expectation of an answer, even from Emet-Selch and his potential connections to otherworldly abominations. G'raha doesn't push the matter, at least.

The truth is whatever is acting out there, it is doing a great job at keeping itself concealed. Whether it is on purpose, simply a by-product of its existence, or pure luck is hard to tell. But it is definitely wrong in ways that his very bones can recognize. The hair on the back of his neck stand on end, his tail growing fuller than he would admit. ]

For now...

[ He isn't convinced. What if it had seen them? Does it have those sorts of instincts, or is it just responding to the loudest stimuli? ]

That attack, it feels like a beam of pure, highly condensed aether. [ No wonder the air feels electric and thick despite the musty interior of the old house. ] Could it be responsible for what happened to this town?

[mechatheism]

[This mannequin doesn't have the same strength as Viktor's automatons, but it will use Jayce's groggy state and lack of preparedness to its advantage. It manages a hand around his throat and a tight squeeze for a long moment, at least until Jayce realizes what's happening and fights back. Even as they tumble over the side of the bed, though, the mannequin holds on.

What Jayce will feel, through the struggling and the attempts to cut off his air supply, is his connection with the real Viktor--growing stronger with every moment. He might assume, if he's not thoroughly occupied, that Viktor has been chasing down his mannequin, and is now very close to overtaking it. The sound of heavy footfalls not far from the motel room might also clue him in.

For now, though, there is the mannequin to contend with. It isn't very strong, nor is it very heavy, but it's determined, and if it manages to right itself on top of Jayce once again, it will move back in towards his throat, leaning into it this time.]

[carcajous]

[ Silence. Logan stares at Wade, chugs a fifth of the gin. He did save Wade's life. He's not gonna deny that he'd have done it no matter what, but it's not about who he is. He's...fuck, he doesn't know. Ever since he spoke to Charles about Rogue, he's been sitting on it, and the words don't sink in how he thinks Charles was hoping. Or maybe Charles knew they wouldn't, knew some part of Logan would always reject the sentiment, but he said them to him, anyhow, because that's what Charles does.

Then again, Logan isn't walking away. He didn't leave this conversation ten minutes ago the way he might've in the past. He's...he's trying. To be the guy that actually stays even when there isn't a war to throw himself into. He doesn't know what to think of Wade yet, between all these damn revelations, but the reality is this: Wade's wriggled his way into being one of Logan's people. The other day was the second time Logan's gone off the minute he suspected Wade was in trouble, something he doesn't do for just anybody. No coming back from that. (How the fuck did this happen? Of all the assholes on this godforsaken planet?)

And the kicker is, this whole time he was already one of Wade's people in another life. He just had no fucking idea. Yeah, he heard what Wade said about knowing they're not the same. But what Wade says and what he's been doing are two completely separate things. 'Cause for the past two months, Wade's been...this. Trying to be his, whatever. His friend. Which they aren't, obviously, but he—

Hell, he isn't sure. And he can't say what possesses him to ask, but he does, the question falling out before he can take it back: ] You miss him?