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

[carcajous]

[ Logan's replies are rarely instant. This time, it comes immediately. ]

Where?

[pse]

[ Where ends up being the lot behind The Dome. Littered with debris and discarded garbage and broken bottle fragments, a few of the parking spots have been overtaken by a cluster of tents with varying levels of stability. Bass thumps from inside The Dome, causing the tarmac to tremble slightly.

Kimiko and her hitchhiker (now fully realised; smiling and self-aware and speaking) are handcuffed together, lingering about a wheel stop. Kimiko is standing, a plastic grocery bag in one hand. Hitchhiker sits on the wheel stop; one arm hangs loosely in its cuff. The other lifts to wave energetically at Logan.

Still beaming, it calls— ] Hey! [ in a medium pitched voice, a slight feminine rasp to the words.

Kimiko rolls her eyes. As much as she wants to give the handcuffs a warning tug, she finds she can't. Getting them cuffed together was difficult enough, when even the slightest inclination of getting physical with the hitchhiker left the ground reeling below her feet and her thoughts feeling oddly damp, oddly viscous.

For Logan, he's essentially gazing at twins. They're even dressed the same: clothes cheap and grungy and dark, hair curled in the exact loose fashion. ]

[carcajous]

[ The Dome's easy enough to find. Logan leaves his work abruptly to get there, tells his shift partner he'll cover for him next week if he won't make a stink about it, then rides off without waiting for an answer. He doesn't know what's gotten Kimiko in trouble, but he does know that if she's asking him for help, then she's gotta be in something deep. Given the couple of stiff-armed encounters he's had, he's got his suspicions what it might be.

He pulls up around back, parking in a spot that's definitely not meant for parking in. He's expecting carnage. Possibly a dead body or two. A freak plastic version of her lumbering around. Maybe it'll lunge at him and try to kill him like the other two did.

That's not what he gets. What he gets is an alarmingly cheerful wave.

He cocks his head. Wait. ]

It talks? [ That's unsettling. Look, he's used to Kimiko's entire thing. Her silence, her general demeanour. Everything this mannequin is not. He ignores it and turns his attention to the original Kimiko. She looks...unharmed, mostly, but that's no surprise with her regenerative powers.

Anyway. She asked him to come for a reason, so: ] What do you need?

[pse]

[ She can't go too far with the hitchhiker's weight settled on the bumper guard, but Kimiko is able to hand over the bag. Inside it is three cans of hairspray and a grill lighter. Pulling a folded up piece of paper from her pocket, she also offers it to Logan.

It reads:

Burn it.

Hopefully, with the bag in hand, he can put two and two together. (The hairspray is simply because a can of gasoline would have been quite expensive in comparison.)

As for the hitchhiker, it is simultaneously merry and antagonistic, unbothered and bearing teeth. After all, it is Kimiko — why is it the one that has to die? With a grin that borders on a snarl, it continues speaking. ]

It doesn't matter who dies today. You're still next, old man.

[ Kimiko rounds on it, but finds she can't go any further. It's like an invisible wall has been erected between her and it. She can place her fingers on it, leave a cloud of her breath, but she can't break it down.

The hitchhiker sticks out its tongue at her. It's extremely childish. ]

[carcajous]

[ Logan takes the bag, one eye on Chatty Kimiko and the other on the real one. He unfolds the note. His gaze goes back to other one.

A frown draws his lips downward. Then he huffs a little in response. ] Yeah, get in line.

[ Y'know who was first in that line once upon a time? Him. So. The mannequin's gonna have to pull a deeper cut than that out of its pocket. Logan's more concerned with what Kimiko is asking him to do in the meantime. He hasn't seen it done before, hasn't met anybody who tried the fire route. Has no idea what it could mean.

What he does know is, any time he tries to stop these things, they pop back up somewhere else, and combined with Kimiko's healing factor, he can't imagine the outcome being anything except ineffective. ]

How do you know this is gonna stick?

[pse]

[ She types out, quick and succinct — ]

Felix, forum.

[ If she could test it out herself, she would. But any attempt to cause her hitchhiker the same harm its done to her only sees the world tipping under her foot, whiting out her thoughts and always leaving her a step or two off. It's half a miracle that it hasn't figured out it can break out of the handcuffs yet.

If it doesn't work as suggested, well, they'll deal with that then.

The hitchhiker cants its head, an eerie quirk to its smile, eyes untouched by any sentiment. ]

Boss says jump, we jump. Boss says kill every Russian in the room, we do that too. Remember? Kimiko, remember?

[carcajous]

[ What, the guy who's been going around calling himself a storm chaser? Logan's not sure he trusts the word of someone who's way too interested in...whatever this is, but. He can't say he's got any better ideas.

His eyes narrow. Starting to understand why Kimiko wants to set the talking one on fire.

He pulls out one of the cans of hairspray. Not his first choice, but he can see where equipment is in short supply. Give him a second, he's thinking. Fuck, alright. Fine. He drops the can back inside the bag. ]

Well, we can't do it here. [ Too many eyes near the Dome, too many people who're only gonna see a man with two young women, lighting one of them on fire. He's got enough trouble to answer for without adding that to the pile. ] Where's your car?

[ They're gonna find somewhere nice and empty to do this. And where he isn't gonna risk setting the building next door ablaze, too. ]

[pse]

[ Kimiko had absolutely intended to do it here. She hadn't given the possibly questionable logistics a second thought when she dragged her irritating hitchhiker out of The Dome and shoved the cuff onto its wrist. He's right, though, she realises. It wouldn't be safe and could open a new can of worms. Pointing a few spaces down to a black SUV with a crooked bumper and considerable rust in the wheel well, she fetches her keys out of her pocket and tosses them his way. She can't exactly drive while handcuffed.

Speaking of the hitchhiker, it scowls petulantly and gathers its weight below its centre of gravity, becoming unmovable as a stone.

It exclaims, in a spoiled bossiness that rivals Kimiko's, ]

Fuck you. I'm not going anywhere. Not with that.

[ The last word is hit hard, its gaze sweeping toward Logan with genuine malice in the downward curve of its mouth. ]

[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. ]

[pse]

[ Kimiko nods, eyes flicking to her rude clone. Yes, it shares her strength. It's a bit like she's been split in two, half her strength funneled out to build this... this thing. That, and the uncomfortable missing stair in her thoughts. At some point, the thing had gotten tired of her penchant for resurrecting and gone from being a physical threat to being an emotional — and social — menace. Probably after the bullet to Kimiko's head had done nothing other than waste a bullet.

As for her invulnerability? Not a clue. Kimiko tents her hands and then slides her fingers together, before her hands part again in a gesture of uncertainty. She's trying to indicate she has no idea if the hitchhiker heals.

And, of course, it isn't done talking. ]

I'm not a thing.

[ Listening, Kimiko's fingers curl toward her palm. Hasn't she said something similar, once upon a time? ]

I'm the most important member of my team. I keep them all alive while they fight and kill freaks with powers. Like the bitch who killed our brother.

[ Still listening, Kimiko's fists complete that circle: bunching so tight, the skin quivering; an emotional blow as severe as if someone had actually struck her. The moment Kenji is brought up, her entire face changes. It's somewhere between scathing anger and the resurgence of terrible, terrible grief. Rubbing dirt into a wound that isn't healed. The pain is caught in her eyebrows, in the almost desperate inhale she gulps down.

For a second, she considers just ripping the thing's head off and being done with it— But the inclination vanishes without her being able to take a single step closer.

She ends up rounding on Logan, when she can't round on her stupid clone. The bag with the lighter and cans of hairspray is ripped from his hands and then thrust back toward him. The note she wrote — burn it — is held up, shoved inches away from his nose, and shaken and shaken again. If she could repeat herself, reprimand him, scream, use her words, she would. She can't, and that frustration wears itself plainly and agonising across her face. ]

[carcajous]

[ When he met Karen's, it hadn't talked, hadn't been capable of making a sound. Starting to realize that was a real blessing.

He blinks. Then Kimiko's suddenly in his face, and Logan grabs her flailing hands, pushing aside the words for the moment. ]

Hey, hey, take it easy. I'm gonna help you, alright?

[ Just—give him a second to...okay, you know what, the handcuffs gotta go. A flash of silver cleaves the short chain in two. Before the mannequin can flee, Logan wraps one arm around its waist and hefts it over his shoulder. Probably should've done this sooner, now that he thinks about it. He passes by Kimiko's SUV, realizes the back's not at all secured off from the front, and pivots to a dusty blue sedan instead. One with a proper trunk so he won't end up with an imposter Kimiko launching itself at him while he's behind the damn wheel.

His claw pops the lock. (Didn't have grand theft auto and kidnapping a doppelganger on his to-do list tonight, but here they are.) He's not careful when he slams the trunk shut. If it loses a hand, it loses a hand. He's busy giving their surroundings a quick scan to make sure the car's owner isn't stomping up to them with a shotgun cocked.

It's fine. He's just borrowing, he'll give it back when they're done.

From the driver's side, he leans over and pushes open the passenger door for the real Kimiko. ] Let's go, get in.

[ Whatever bullshit it was spewing, he'll deal with that later. One thing at a fuckin' time. ]

[pse]

[ The hitchhiker is startled enough by the sudden series of events that it ends up slung across Logan’s shoulder without much contest. Once it’s there, however, that’s when the fangs come out — only slightly metaphorically, as it bites down with several pounds of pressure and takes out a gruesome chunk of skin and shirt in a purely animal display of unhappy resistance. Everything that ends up in its mouth, including a mouthful of thin polyester, is chewed and chewed and chewed in large and heinous clacks of teeth against meat. It only just progresses to truly offensive lip smacking and the blissful, breathy ahhh of a much enjoyed drink when it is tossed bodily into the trunk of the car.

As the trunk lid slams shut, Kimiko isn’t sure she’s ever been more relieved by a sight.

She settles into the passenger seat without bothering to buckle her seatbelt (or, indeed, even acknowledge its existence). She’s immediately hiding from his gaze, peering out the window and keeping one ear pricked for any sign the hitchhiker is escaping the trunk.

Hey, at least the silence is back.

Good ol’ quiet Kimiko. ]