Test Drive Meme #2

[rebirthorder]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Well, I'm alone there now...
In our 'special place'...
Waiting for you...

Waiting for you to
come to see me.

I. Blue Catfish Diner - Daytime

Supplies in the Inn and Hotel have run low, so what is there to do but search the town? And restaurants and diners seem a good place to find something to eat.

It may take some doing to force open the diner's door, and the inside of it smells of dust and rotted food. There are dishes still on tables, and a horrible smell floats in from the kitchen. The roof must have developed a leak in its years of abandonment, and the black-and-white tile floor has cracked and mildewed without care. What were once shiny golden ceiling tiles are now black and grimy with tarnish -- and quite possibly mold -- and even the jukebox that looms over one corner has seen better days.

In the kitchen, a few cabinets hang open with huge cans visible. A closer inspection reveals things like Spam, canned chicken, cream of mushroom soup, and creamed corn. Not appetizing, maybe, but edible. Maybe even plentiful.

Just as you finish your inventory, something in the main room blares out static, and then the jukebox snarls a gamut of sounds from the beginnings of songs. It eventually settles on Folsom Prison Blues, but every so often, the playback intercuts with something else entirely --

The music cuts out, interrupted by a woman screaming something incoherent and agonized, or a man begs some merciless other for his life, or somebody else wails for everyone in earshot to run, run, don't look back.

Just as suddenly as the screaming started, it stops, and Johnny Cash returns to singing about the train he watches going by. Considering the things that happen in this town, the real question here isn't what happened, or how, but whether the jukebox is worth investigating, and what it will do if you try to change the song.

II. Lumber Yard - Daytime

There's only so much furniture you can break down for fires, not to mention only so many broken stairs anybody can skip and stay sane. Assuming anybody is still sane and you're not all having the same hallucinations.

For example: somebody closed the lumber yard's fence and chained it shut, and left a crucified man to watch over the entrance like some demented scarecrow. They left a mask and goggles on him -- or forced him to wear it, just to make his crucifixion more painful -- but if it was ever air-tight, something shattered the lenses in its eyepieces, and rather than eyes, dark, jagged holes stare sightlessly from where the lenses used to be. The person or persons who crucified him wrapped his wrists in barbed wire, and one clenched fist has fallen loose from its moorings. In his other hand, he clutches a knife, and somehow didn't let go, even in death.

What are the odds they promised they'd let him live, if he could cut himself free? Knowing this town, you probably shouldn't bet against it. Especially since it would take some serious strength to cut barbed wire with a single serrated blade.

Beneath the body, somebody painted the word O U R S in jagged white letters.

If you choose to enter the lumber yard despite this warning, you'll need to climb the fence. There is lumber here for the taking, though none of it looks high quality. But you're trying to stay warm and repair some stairs -- you're not exactly building your dream house.

Getting it out might prove to be a problem. You'll either need bolt cutters for that chain, or a key for the lock.

The corpse might not be a bad place to start, but neither would the dilapidated building.

III. Playing Field - Nightmare

The Playing Field overlooks the river, sloping gently down toward the water, but there are glints in the grass that hint at the presence of broken glass or maybe needles, and the river itself looks like a roiling mass of black sludge. Even under ordinary circumstances, the place might make you shiver. After all, is there anything worse than an abandoned playground?

Turns out yes: a not abandoned playground in Silent Hill's nightmares.

The worst part is the way they shake their heads: too quickly, so swiftly it's a surprise they don't snap their own necks. Back and forth, back and forth, like some sort of twisted bobbleheads, and the patches of hair still left to them bounce as they move.

No, the worst part is that as they move toward you, they scream with a noise that sounds like a baby's cry. It's a long, endless, almost gurgling wail, the kind of sound that would cut to the center of any parent's brain, right through the eardrums. The sound that means they need something. They need to eat. They need to be changed. They're scared and lonely and need to be held, to be reassured.

No, the worst part is their little shriveled gray fingers and how they end in what look almost like fishhooks. The better to catch you with and never let you go. At least not until they rip you to shreds.

No, the worst part is they know you're here, and they're toddling toward you, ungainly step after ungainly step. Slow, for now, but there's no guarantee they'll stay that way.

In the corner of the play yard, one of the swings is still moving sluggishly, back and forth, back and forth, creaking as it goes. It's the only swing left; the others all have rusted chains and have fallen to the ground.

Not a bad weapon. Just one problem: the children are between you and the chains.

Comments

[captainbuzzkill]

I. Blue Catfish Diner

[After falling asleep on the bus ride home from Gravity Falls, Dipper has found himself in a foggy and mysterious new world, in another mystery town, full of spookiness and possible danger, oooh.]

[And unlike some who would perhaps find it shocking to be suddenly transported to another dimension, he's not surprised at all. He'd been expecting to fall into some random other universe any day now.]

[Had to happen sometime.]

[He's already traipsed through comic books brought to life and jumped through living throat-tunnels into strange hidden monster under-realms. And Mabel got pulled through a portal into the multiverse once. He figures it's his turn to wind up in another dimension now. And he's not shocked at all over the place he's been pulled into being a mysterious and slightly terrifying town when he just left a mysterious and slightly terrifying town.]

[The only thing freaking him out: he wishes Mabel was here. It's instinct in any unfamiliar situation to want his twin nearby. But she's not. He's alone and in between looking for her (because she has to be here, she was right next to him on the bus!) he has to figure this part out by himself.]

[So he opts to do the only thing he can do: poke at things that probably shouldn't be poked at.]

Do you have change? I'm going to pick another song in the jukebox and see if it leads to any manifestations of spectral presences.

[A normal 13-year-old would be panicking over a jukebox changing to agonized screaming, but Dipper is completely unphased.]

[It makes him seem like almost part of the town: a pasty child, unmoved by something obviously cursed, actually trying to make a ghost appear.]

III. Playing Field

That's new.

[The transformation into nightmare-land gives him the shivers, because it means whatever this thing is? It's big. It makes him anxious, reminds him of the way Bill twisted everything up during the apocalypse.]

What do you want? Who brought me here?

[He figures it's worth it to try communication with the monsters, but they only wail in response. He briefly wonders if Bill is somehow behind this, if somehow he escaped being destroyed in Stan's mind, but this doesn't seem like his style. It's scary, but not weird enough.]

[No, this is something else. A new kind of bad.]

[He doesn't focus that much on the chains. He's no stranger to improvised weapons, but he's not strong enough to make good use of chains and knows he'll probably just hit himself in the face. He leans towards blunt weapons when picking up something to fight monsters. Like shovels, or the occasional golf club.]

[He notices he's not alone.]

[Dipper runs over to some rusted playground equipment, finds a broken piece of pvc pipe sticking out, and kicks at it to finish breaking it free. There. A weapon.]

We can use the playground equipment to avoid them. Like the ground is lava!

[It's easier to think of it as a game than avoiding certain death.]

[He swats one of the creatures away when it lunges at him and jumps up on the rusting playground equipment. The creatures are following them but mostly going in a straight line, right behind them, not quite smart enough to know to wait on the other side. If they can just keep away from the swarm long enough to reach the end of the playground, so they can run away, they might make it out of this.]

[takenalive]

[A dainty alien centaur, graying and weary-looking, has also come into the diner. He turns a stalk eye towards the screaming jukebox and his ears go back, but he doesn't react very dramatically either.

Alloran's voice is very dry and doesn't have much emotion.]

||I'm afraid that I'm recently without human currency. Perhaps it will react to your thoughts or presence instead, if you want this... manifestation enough.||

Playing Field

[freezeyourbrain]

[ There's a moment JD can only stare at the kid in annoyed bewilderment. Kid's taking this a hell of a lot better than JD is: he's not used to not being the most dangerous guy in the room.

He can't tell if the baby cries or the head-shaking is more unsettling, but what really worries him are the hook-fingers. ]

The ground is what?! Maybe don't give the weird hell-town ideas!

[ Still, he joins the kid in scavenging the playground equipment for something to use. It takes him two tries to get a pipe -- and he ends up almost using a seat he'd pulled off a see-saw -- but he does manage to wrench and kick one free of the rusted merry-go-round.

Kid's right about the playground equipment, too. JD heads for the dome climber. Rusted over as it is, it creaks alarmingly under his weight, but it stays stable enough for him to reach the top.

Little fucks will have a time and a half reaching him up here, he's pretty sure, given their weird little hook-fingers. ]

I

[relativelypureheart]

[Crash

Crash

CRASH

CRASH]

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee--waitisthatyouDipper--eeeeee

[A pink blur whizzes past the diner, riding on a trash can lid that's seen better days and probably shouldn't be used to sled down a bare paved slope in a fog town, but when has common sense ever stopped Mabel?]

I

[thegirlwhodrowned]

[The complete rot and disrepair the Diner is in makes the undead woman vaguely think of the abandoned buildings in doom territory. The smell of rot does little to deter her initial exploration. The sounds of screams makes her stiffen defensively, drifting out to the main part of the diner again, finding a boy playing with the jukebox.

Strange pasty child, meet a blue woman in a dress made of continually moving water. She tilts her head, the concept of money not exactly one she's acquainted with entirely.] Change-?

[It takes her a moment to remember Eddie complained about change loose in his wallet. He had given her a vague explanation.] Ah, the small metal discs, you mean?

[She knocks some dishes off of the table tops, being helpful and destructive. Eventually, she finds the cash register, seeing some loose change around it, she decides to just rip it off of the counter entirely and drop it by the boy's feet. This clearly is where change is kept, right?]

Will this be enough?

II.

[scammin]

[Have you ever kicked a baby? Sweet Dee has never kicked a baby. Sweet Dee doesn't believe she is the type of person who would kick a baby. That just seems a little dark, kicking babies, like that's probably the sort of thing that's in those black and white "don't" areas of life.

Sweet Dee kicks that fucking evil baby so hard its jaw seems to explode into a spatter of blood and go whizzing across the sandbox. Sweet Dee kicks that fucking evil baby so hard that it's definitively decapitated, squirting blood out its neckhole.

Sweet Dee kicks that fucking evil baby so hard that she thinks she broke her foot.]

God damn it! [She hoists herself up onto a monkeybars rig with Dipper, scowling in pain and clenching her hand over her foot.] Like the floor is lava? What are you, twelve?

[Actually, she realizes a little late, he looks twelve.

Great.

The ugly thought bounces around in her head that he'll probably be easier for these little titsucking monsters to eat. You don't have to outrun the bear...]

Give me the pipe. I have more reach.

III

[waterfight]

[ Now, Tsunami isn't quite sure what's going on here. What she does know is that 1) she can understand this little scavenger (who is bigger than she's used to or she's smaller than she's used to? She's not sure) and 2), she is really not happy with whatever those creepy wailing things are and she definitely doesn't want them to touch her. Or to touch them, for that matter. Either way she's not here for it. ]

Why is the ground lava? This sounds like some game for hatchlings.

[ Not for very grown up dragonets who have saved the world, thank you very much. Still, she follows Dipper's lead to leap up onto the rusting playground equipment, flapping her wings frantically as she tries to balance and hopes that her weight doesn't send it toppling to the ground. She swats at one of the things with her claws to discourage it and snarls. ]

This is the worst. Ever.

[ Gonna say she's like... a little larger than an adult human right now? 3-3.5 feet tall at the shoulder, 12-14 feet long snout to tail? ]

I. Blue Catfish Diner

[the_true_name]

((Let me know if you prefer action tags! Hope I'm not too late!))

There's a human here. There's a human here investigating the bizarre screaming jukebox without a care in the world, and they're asking Chara if they have currency.

There's no reason to pretend to be something they're not around this human. Maybe if they're their usual self, Chara thinks, they'll be left alone and the human will go to someone else.

"I've been dead for a thousand years," Chara says, flatly. "I think I left all my change in my grave."

Alloran-Semitur-Corrass

[takenalive]

[A dainty alien centaur, graying and weary-looking, has come into the diner. He turns a stalk eye towards the screaming jukebox and his ears go back, but he doesn't react much, surveying the room with his other three eyes.

In thought-speak his voice is a weary near-monotone, cutting under the pleading.]

||Someone tell me if this is noteworthy or just how human music is.||

[That's halfway to being a very dry sort of joke. Of course Alloran knows the sounds of humans screaming and begging and warning each other, but also, he barely knows human music. What he's heard is kind of weird and unpleasant to his ears anyway.]

Re: Alloran-Semitur-Corrass

[theendiswherewestartfrom]

Finally, something about this place that Jack can understand. They aren't an alien species that Jack has run into before, but the feeling of telepathic speech is familiar. As expected, when he looks, they have no other way of communicating out, but obviously, they can hear.

"There's some genres that are like that," Jack comments as way of greeting. "The Man In Black isn't one of them."

Entirely human, still wearing a long coat with captain's stripes on the shoulders. Jack's hands are empty, he still hasn't gotten his hands on any weapons. He keeps them in plain sight, and he can't help but keep one eye on that scorpion tail.

"My name is Captain Jack Harkness. Species is human."

Jason "JD" Dean | Heathers: The Musical | OTA

[freezeyourbrain]

Blue Catfish Diner

[ He's weighing whether he wants to bother taking back creamed corn, which practically nobody likes, when the static starts. JD stands there, listening, tensing up.

He's used to his world being upended and unpredictable, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. And this is a new kind of unpredictable: the kind where things that are physically impossible happen. This diner hasn't had electricity in months, if not years; that's why all the food is rotted.

-- always be a good boy / don't ever play with guns

He really wishes he had his gun. He can feel his shoulders tensing even more, hunching, and he tries to make himself relax. He tries to recapture the cold clarity in his brain that he gets when he goes to 7/11 and grabs a Slushie.

Think, JD. But before he can come up with anything, the screaming starts, and he all but jumps. He heaves his shoulder against the kitchen doors hard enough that he's almost off balance when he goes through, but there's nobody out in the dining area. ]

How do you get a jukebox to record? [ He digs in his pocket for change, brows furrowing. ]

---

Lumber Yard

[ Climbing the fence was easy work. He's better at it than Kurt had been. The thought amuses him, distracting him from the crucified scarecrow, and he begins sorting through wood.

Coming here was a good decision, he thinks. He's a bit of an arson expert, and it's not like dead people freak him out, if that's even real. He sorts through stacks of lumber, picking out the driest stuff. Mostly softwoods, he thinks. They'll burn quicker, but if they can figure out a way to dry the hardwoods, it might not matter so much.

Now, if only there were chainsaws in here or something. They've got to come up with a way to replenish their wood supply, at least until the winter passes.

Now, to get his lumber and get out of here. -- But first --

He heads up to the scarecrow, more interested in the knife than in anything else. He begins to try to pry the fingers apart. They feel real: there's chapped, leathery-feeling skin on them, stretched so taut he can feel the articulation of the bones underneath. And as he looks toward the scarecrow's face, he sees the expression beneath the gas mask, the blood on its cheeks, the gaping black holes for eye sockets.

It's absolutely real.

Huh. ]

Hey, help me with this. We might need the knife later. [ And they might as well get out of here sooner. ]

Diner

[bananaclip]

Dayna's just entering the restaurant when he asks his question, lured by the promise of easy food, since the door is gaping open after his entrance there. She feels immediately ill-at-ease, and she crosses her arms, approaching him from the doorway.

"You don't. They don't work that way," she says.

She finishes walking over and looks at him for a moment, then at the jukebox. It's playing a song, but just then the sound blares with something strange and unnatural, voices pleading for help and screams.

"What was that?"

[eyefortrouble]

I. Blue Catfish Diner - Daytime

Aya's first matter of business upon waking up in her totaled car on the outskirts of town (once she realized the place seemed to be completely empty) iss to find some food and water. She could feel her mitochondria working overtime to heal her up, but she'd hit her head pretty badly in the crash; her forehead still pounds where it had ricocheted off the wheel.

Upon finding the diner, it doesn't take Aya long to open up a can of honey mustard chicken. She eats it with her hands, herself surprised at how hungry she suddenly iss. It was...fine, but all she needs is the protein.

I hear the train a comin',
It's rollin' 'round the bend,
And I ain't seen the sunshine,
Since I don't know when...

Aya's head snaps up to the door to the kitchen when the jukebox starts playing. She puts the can down and reaches to her side, under her leather jacket to where her gun would usually be holstered. That's gone too, though, another victim of the accident, somehow. She grimaces, flexing her fingers in anger. She had been practicing. She doesn't need a gun to get off an energy shot...

She freezes when the music stops, but before she can react further the screaming starts. Aya has seen and killed many, many disturbing things, but something about the pleading sends shivers up her spine. Get out and never look bah, huh?

It doesn't take long before the song comes back on the speakers, just as suddenly as it had been interrupted. Aya approaches the door into the dining room, one hand extended in front of her as a focus for an energy shot, just in case. "FBI," she calls out into the diner proper, back against the wall right next to the open door. "Identify yourself immediately."

II. Lumber Yard - Daytime

Aya looks up at the crucified man, jaw clenched. What kind of sick piece of shit...? She had seen it from a distance, the vague shape having been more than ominous enough to warrant a closer look. And I'm glad I did.

The town isn't completely empty. There's someone else here. Or a small group, at the very least - it would definitely take more than one person to string up a grown man like this. Then, of course, there was their more literal message. Ours.

Aya sighs, crossing her arms. What to do? Investigate further? She wants to - she has a duty to. But that's not why she had come to town, and getting on the bad side of whoever had done this wouldn't help her find -

Oh, who is she kidding. She takes one look around before working at the corpse's fingers, prying the knife free. "I'm sorry," she murmurs before she climbs the fence, making for the dilapidated building when she reaches the other side.

III. Playing Field - Nightmare

"Stay behind me!" Aya shouted at her companion(s), one arm stretched out to the side. Her other arm reached out in front of her as she focused up for an energy shot. "I can clear a path, but I'll need a few moments to recover. You need to get out of here!" She backed up as the creatures inched closer, their screams chipping away at Aya's soul. They sounded so much like the Supreme Being, barely born, already fighting tooth and nail for survival, wanting nothing more than just to live...

She shakes her head. Not the time. "Find cover!"

I: Also OOC, hello!

[theendiswherewestartfrom]

Jack had been examining the jukebox, but the second he hears those words, he stops in his tracks. Hands are up, and Jack moves only to turn towards the door, then freezes again. "Captain Jack Harkness." Only the briefest pause, "Torchwood. I'm here investigating the city."

The coat peels back enough to show there is no gun on his hip, and his hands are empty. He keeps eye contact with the woman, seeing what she will decide, what she will judge, before making any further movements.

Dayna Jurgens | The Stand

[bananaclip]

I. Dayna's hopes are starting to run out that she'll find any way of sustaining herself in this place. She really doesn't know if this isn't just the same United States she lived in during the summer of 1980, when the flu struck and everyone she knew died. She thought she'd died when her head struck the window in Randall Flagg's office, but perhaps she'd been dreaming that life, or something.

She wanders, and she makes her way here, to this diner. She pries the door open, muttering to herself a little about how she thought she'd been able to leave this sort of life behind when the society in Boulder started to come together. She exclaims when the door pops open and she can smell what it's like inside. Not her best move, forcing her way in here, but this is what she's stuck with, it seems.

She squares her shoulders after a moment's contemplation of the diner's interior, and then she's inside, checking over the shelves in the stockroom, hoping for something better to eat than what's apparent at first...

The first strains of music startle her, and she starts slightly.

"Who's there?" she calls to the front of the house, and peeks out the door.

III.Dayna can't help her response, her shuddering shriek that comes out when the monsters appear in the playground. It had seemed like a good place to relax, to try to get her mind off of what her life has become since she arrived here, but this is no place to relax. It's a place of dread and of fear.

And then she sees something else—someone who must have followed her to the playground or simply decided to check it out in the dimness of the fog the way she had done at the same exact time. It seems like more than a coincidence, but there's not much to be done about that now.

"Watch out!" she screams.

III

[truepsychictale]

Sasha jumped a little at the sudden scream as he saw what she must have been wanting him to look out for. Sasha then ran forward to the woman, forgetting he didn't have any means of self-defense himself. He placed a hand to the side of his head, focused and nothing.

"Damnit," he swore under his breath as he thought about what to do. "I'll distract them," he said after a second of standing there like a fool.

II

[truepsychictale]

[Sasha was trying to investigate every inch of the town while it was still daylight, and now he had made it to the lumber yard. He knew that even though gathering supplies should be his first course of action, he had to figure out who- or what- brought him and everyone here to this town.]

[He looked up at the crucified man and the warning. Perhaps there were people inside and he could find out more information. Or perhaps the people inside were just looking for another individual to hang as a warning. Without his psychic powers, he only had his wits and basic self-defense to rely on. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and was glad he carried a lighter for situations where he couldn't openly use his abilities. He needed a smoke. He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag from it. That's when he heard a person approach, he turned around and pushed his shades up the bridge of his nose.]

Are you here looking for supplies?

[If they were, he could possibly team up with them, safety in numbers after all.]

[thegirlwhodrowned]

[Following the scent of cigarette smoke leads the drowned woman towards Sasha, the comforting smell of cigarettes is a lot homier than the rest of this place has been. She has questions, many, many questions of what the hell is going on, but, she figures following the scent of cigarettes can come first for now. Better than her other attempts at exploration.

Even if the man in question smoking it is not someone she would have ever seen by the sea or anywhere else for that matter. When he notices her, she crosses her arms over her chest casually. She's close enough that the tendrils of her dress nip at the man's shoes without her notice.]

Supplies would be nice. Though, [Her gaze cuts upwards to the crucified man.] It looks like we've been given a warning to stay away.

Ophelia | Brütal Legend

[thegirlwhodrowned]

[I. Blue Catfish Diner]

[This is not the Doom lands, much less the sea. This is nothing remotely like home. Ophelia predictably is not pleased, having spent quite a bit of her time skulking around trying to find something vaguely familiar. Beyond the fog and heavy silence, it is all strange enough she wants no part of it. She has a war to fight and win, thank you very much.

The diner in its late stages of disrepair remind her vaguely of old buildings that dotted the landscape near the sea, so she gives in to her urge to break into the building and look around.

Ophelia forgoes searching for supplies, more fixated on the music she hears. This isn't music of the gods, not remotely, but it is fascinating enough she's drawn over to the jukebox. She startles openly when it starts screaming.

Just as quickly as it starts it shifts back. She stares at the jukebox, frowning tersely. Ophelia casually raises a tear covered fist and slams it into the jukebox.] If you're going to scream, be consistent.

[When it continues playing Johnny Cash, she grabs a loose can of spam some other traveler left behind to hit the jukebox with. Anyone else who comes into the diner will find a blue-tinted woman wearing a gown of black rippling water beating a jukebox with a can of spam.]


[III. Playground.]

[With night time settling over the landscape, Ophelia almost feels like she can relax. The night is more her element after all.

She is very, very, very wrong, and discovers this fact when she finds the playground. She drifts through it initially safe until, well the silence is broken. The screaming starts and makes her jump whipping around to find these... things lurching towards her. Her expression twists into something unnerved and outwardly annoyed. The way the creatures toddle intently towards her only sets her further on edge.]

I'm not the touchy type, look for someone else. [She lashes out with the sea, her swift slapping gesture causing a current of black water to rush out of her in an attempt to put some distance between herself and the would be children. It staggers a few, but not for long.] I'm sure you'll make someone a very proud parent, shoo!

blue catfish diner

[curseword]

While Ophelia’s been occupied with the jukebox, though, someone else has been finishing up his own quiet ransacking of the back pantries.

A blond man in a bedraggled trenchcoat and suit (it doesn’t quite look like it’s ever been neat and crisply-ironed) slouches out from the back, an opened can of creamed corn in one hand, a spoon in the other. The music drew him first — a good song, one of his actual favourites — and then the staticky screaming. Then, the banging.

It’s a turn of unexpected luck that it isn’t actually some kind of monster savaging the jukebox with a can. Or— is it?

John pauses with the spoon partway to his mouth. Considers if it’ll make a good weapon. It won’t.

“You’re not a demon, by chance?” he asks, with exaggerated nonchalance, a Liverpool drawl to his voice. He’s squinting at the ethereal-looking woman, but there’s a wariness in his posture, like a cat with its hackles up. It’s only polite to ask before you start slinging spells around, innit?

Katie "Pidge" Holt | Voltron (post-s6)

[pidgeypidge]

Blue Catfish Diner

It takes her longer than she'd like to pry open the diner's door and by the time she's managed to squeeze herself inside and pull it shut again behind herself, Pidge is a little winded. And a lot confused, because this place is nowhere near where she was expecting to end up.

They were supposed to be going home, and instead she's fallen face first into... whatever this place is. Not good.

"Quiznak."

It's muttered under her breath and accompanied by an eye-roll and a groan.

But standing around lamenting her rotten luck isn't going to get her anywhere, so she decides to do what she does best. A bit of poking around reveals... some less than impressive food stores. In fact, this whole place is less than impressive, but who's keeping score?

That thought is interrupted by the jukebox, and Pidge decides to focus her efforts on that. Mostly because she's not terribly fond of the song that's playing, and the interlude in the middle isn't much better.

The next few minutes are spent poking around the jukebox. She'll give it a thorough examination, peek all around and under and behind it, and even methodically press the buttons, eventually. Honestly, she's just curious to see if she can change the song.


Playground

"... What?"

Space was hard, she'd thought. Being dragged into the middle of an intergalactic war was unlike anything she'd had to deal with up until that point. She's seen things and done things that have effectively screwed up her sleep schedule on a permanent basis.

This, though?

This puts all that to shame.

Just being here, at the edge of the playground, fills her with dread. And that's not even the worst part. Nothing she's been through could've possibly prepared her for these things.

Unfortunately, she's alone. Bayardless, teamless, Greenless. Hopeless.

It's the creaking of the swing in the far corner that ultimately derails that train of thought, and while it wouldn't be her first choice, it's definitely better than nothing. And hey, she's faster and lighter on her feet than they appear to be...

So she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and runs directly at the children.

What's the worst that can happen?

Blue Catfish Diner

[captainbuzzkill]

The boy that walks in is younger than her, he barely looks more than twelve because he barely is more than twelve. He only just turned thirteen. Which is why it's weird he's a) wandering around without any adult supervision, and b) seemingly not thrown at all by the fact that everything's gone all creepy. Many just-barely-thirteen-year-olds would be panicking to find themselves alone in a situation like this.

Not only is he not panicking, he's enthralled.

"Aha. I see you've found the jukebox of nightmares. So far I've heard agonized screams, someone begging for their life, and someone screaming for someone else to run." He says all this like it's thrilling and exciting. "It only pops up in the middle of every few songs. I haven't started charting the frequency or which songs yet."

He has an entire cash register in his hands, ransacked from another restaurant. He dumps it on the ground hard enough to break it and starts emptying out the change into his pockets.

"I found some change so I can put some in and see what else it does."

In the back of his mind Dipper knows it's probably a bad idea to try to make a cursed jukebox do things other than making ambient cursed noises, but it's for science.

peter parker | marvel → 616 (or: i hear u like spiders.)

[webshoots]

i → diner

[ it's not the weirdest occurrence peter's ever encountered, or even top five. that's not, of course, to say it's not weird, but there's definitely a few things higher up on the list. his first thoughts are to wonder where he is (quite frankly: no clue), to wonder how he got here (there are a few options, if he's honest), and finally, why. there's an odd, nagging thought at the back of his mind that makes him think there was something he'd wanted to do here, but he can't quite place what it is. or was.

the first thing he notices, of course, is the low grade tingling of his spider-sense that he's learnt not to ignore over the years: low grade can very quickly turn into medium followed swiftly by oh god. the second thing he notices is ... the rest of it. ]

Gross. [ the smell of rotting and rotted food and musty mould is a lot and there's a moment where he just takes a moment and reminds himself that this is definitely not the worst thing he's come across. like, ever. a pause, and very much to himself: ] Great idea, Peter, let's explore the very-clearly-abandoned diner in the also-very-clearly-abandoned-and-creepy town, because it's definitely going to work out well for you. You could've—.

[ he stops speaking just before the music starts playing because this doesn't feel right. he's got a lot of experience with things not feeling right and so his first reaction is to head straight towards the jukebox.

(this feels like it's straight out of a horror movie, and peter's pretty sure that means he's at the top of the 'first to die' list because only absolute idiots investigate the weird things.

and yet here he is, absolute idiot, investigating the weird thing.) ]

ii → lumber yard

[ peter spends a few moments studying the body: it's not the first dead body he's seen, and he's regretfully aware that it won't be the last. he doesn't need his spider-sense to tell him that something terrible happened here and that going into the lumber yard is a Very Bad Idea, probably full of regret and poor decisions, but it's also a chance to get some answers.

or that's what he's telling himself: people tend not to try and turn other people into questionable art installations in very poor taste if they're not hiding something or trying to get people to stay away from the thing. the body's been here for a while, at least — is that an 'at least'? peter's not entirely sure — and finally, eventually, peter turns his attention away from it and to the lumber yard itself. the only way in is to climb the fence which is more than fine, and it takes peter only a few moments.

he knows the wood will be useful, but he's immediately more interested in the building: like the rest of the town, it looks like no-one's used it in a long time, but that doesn't stop the vague feeling of unease he notes but ultimately ignores. he doesn't hesitate, even when he hears someone (something?) moving but. ngh. ]

This would be a great hideout for a serial killer.

iii → wildcard

( ooc: want to do An Other Thing? hmu! i'm easy but if you're not sure, just send me a pm. )

1

[skinsuits]

[Raven's hungry, and the town doesn't have any answers for her, but maybe it has food. The Diner looks decent enough from the outside, but like everywhere else in the town it's likely uninhabited. Which, on one hand might not be so bad considering the things she's seen outside.

The scent of old food and something long since gone bad nearly turns her away, but she keeps up focus that canned food should be edible. Before she steps in she hears Johnny Cash playing, but it doesn't strike her as strange until she spots Peter but before she can get his attention there's screaming. She spins around to check for other signs of life, but there's nothing.

She wants to shoot the juke box but she's running low on bullets, and then thankfully the screaming and panic stops.]

What the hell was that?

Sweet Dee Reynolds | It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

[scammin]

I. Blue Catfish Diner

[This diner can suck a dick.

Dee walks into it and almost walks back out; it smells like Charlie's apartment, which means a noxious combination of animal pee, mildew and rotting food, and clearly no one's getting pancakes and strawberry jam in this shithole. It's only because hunger has turned her into a goddamn animal that she sticks around, looting through the kitchen and packing cans of preserved bullshit into a duffel bag, grateful that stink can't permeate aluminum. She gags a few times, but she's honed her skills at pushing through that.

She miraculously stumbles onto a half-used bottle of old cooking sherry alongside the cans of useless bean sauce and jams, and figuring there's no time like the present, pops the cap off and takes a swig. She immediately grimaces; it's the cooking sherry that manufacturers add salt to. It's also probably contaminated with some kind of ghost plague, if the sticky residue around the mouth of the bottle is any indication.

Well, she's already had this much.

The diner is loud enough with the sounds of her rooting around that she doesn't notice the jukebox playing until it starts outright screaming. Dragging her duffel bag on the floor, she wanders out and goes over to the jukebox, less confused than annoyed. She fiddles with it, but the only music it seems to want to play is Johnny Cash-horrorcore mashups. Eventually she just kicks it like someone less classy than her would kick a vending machine and the sound cuts out.]

Finally. Stink and silence. [She takes a swig of her gross salted sherry, standing in front of the broken jukebox like a victorious gladiator.]



II. Lumber Yard

Well, that's dark. [Dee swallows back a rush of nausea as she passes the corpse. Her arms are wrapped around her, and she can't tell if she's shivering from the morning chill or from the shakes that have set in between now and her last beer, which, by now, was yesterday. She doesn't remember when the drinking got so bad. Cravings in her head roll around, alcohol and crack and really anything to take the edge off. She's forcibly pretending, right now, that just sitting by the fire is what her chemically-fried brain needs, and that delusion is enough to live off of.

She needs wood for fire. She takes a deep breath. The voice in her head is somehow both hers and her brother's. Get it together, bitch. You goddamn bitch.

Goal-oriented as always, she starts snooping around in a foul temper, kicking at rocks and dirt. She scrabbles at the chain with her hands, but it's cold enough that her fingers feel all-knuckles, and it doesn't give. After a moment, her mind jumps to the potential shortcut, and she turns her attention to the mutilated corpse dangling like an evil Christmas ornament from the fence.

She tells herself: it's not like she knew the guy. Hell, even if she did, she might go ahead and loot the corpse. It's not like he's going to miss it. He'd probably going to miss his eyes and his ability to breathe a hell of a lot more.

Face pulled into a ghoul's mask of revulsion, Dee shuffles closer to the corpse, picking at his pockets with her thumb and her index finger and not a single digit more. When she finally determines there's no key in there, her eyes drift to his hands.

She bets she could cut her way through the fence. Upper body strength has never been a problem for her, at least, not the lack of it.

She tugs at the knife, annoyed that the hand doesn't seem to give, pulling at the arm and quickly lowering her standards from picking at the corpse with two fingers to seriously considering biting its fingers off, when a particularly strong yank puts too much pressure on the body and breaks its neck. The neck wobbles, and then there's a wet ripping sound, and the rotting head dumps onto the floor like a mushy cantaloupe and dashes gore across her shoes.]

Oh, god damn it!

III

[hatestrashcans]

"What, nobody taught you to wear gloves when you poke bodies?" Marco laughed as he caught sight of a blonde woman pulling the head off of a corpse. What? It was either laugh or lay down and never get up. Business as usual: Ignore things until you weren't in immediate danger. Besides, it was just brains. Granted, a bit longer-dead than the ones Marco was used to seeing, so not great smelling, but at least dead things weren't trying to kill you.

And people thought he couldn't see the bright side of things.

"So, you have any idea what's in there?" The short teenager pointed to the 'OURS' scrawled near the body, "Or were you just going to run in and hope not to end up like our friend here?"

Not that it was any of his business. He was just bored.

Darren Walker | OC

[walksfordantor]

Diner

He's been laid over in worse towns, he thinks, but not by much. This is pretty damn close in the running. He kicks some debris out of the way with the side of one boot as he makes his way across the diner and into the kitchen, putting one sleeve of his leather jacket up to his mouth against the reek of black mold.

"Peachy," he says to himself, his voice a mid-range grumble. "Guess I ain't gettin' anyone to make me a hash omelet or a plate of beignets, anytime soon, heh."

He's only half talking to himself: there are spirits everywhere, and he learned it the hard way. The kitchen is nastier than the main room - whatever water got left in the sink has congealed into something he's not touching with a ten foot pole. But the cupboards are open, one door swinging lazily on a single hinge, and he sees options.

"What've we got here? Well, there's spam. Spam, spam, bacon and spam. Spam spam, soup, vienna sausages and spam. Et cetera. John Cleese, eat your heart out."

He reaches for a can, his jacket and boots creaking in the silence. Then the silence is broken by the jukebox, and he drops the tinned sodium bomb on his foot in his surprise.

"Jesus fuck--"

Well, if anyone out there thought they were alone, they know they're not, now. He rolls his eyes, glad Vivian can't see him now. "Good move, best thief in Manhattan my ass."

Reaching for a knife from the chopping block, he moves toward the kitchen door again, and raises his voice.

"Hello?"


Playing Field

He'd hoped to find a quiet place to lay down some cornmeal, maybe get ridden, get some answers. But what had looked abandoned at first was turning anything but, real fast. He'd seen his share of nightmares, but this was new, and he was awake, and it was real in a way he hadn't really counted on. He wondered if there even was some sort of juju that could counter epic fuckery of this level. Probably not.

But if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was how to save his own hide. He broke into a sprint, hoping to skirt wide around the mass of horrible spawn like a sheepdog around a flock, and ultimately wind up at that promising pile of chains.

Someone else - you? - might beat him to them, though...

Playing Field

[clozapine]

Lester, in search of food, water, or anything useful he could get his hands on, decided to stop by the playing field just in case. There could have been food that wasn't spoiled or rotting. Though truthfully he'd be fine with just a place where he could sit down and rest without having to worry about monsters stalking up on him.

He spotted the chains near the swings before he saw the other guy. So he picked up his pace to make sure he got to them first, because fuck that guy. He'd been through hell and first come first serve, baby. What he didn't expect to see was that the man was running from a swarm of..children?

He got to the chains first, taking up the one with the swing seat still attached to it and swung it around like a lasso to gain momentum then flung it toward the monster children where it wrapped around most of them and gathered them together. It was temporary solution, but it was something.

"Since you owe me one for helping you out, I call dibs on one of those chains." Lester said quietly, not wanting to alert any other terrifying creatures to his presence. "Haven't seen you around here before. You new or something?"

Tobias ♦ Animorphs

[skyboundmisfit]

i. Blue Catfish Diner

Tobias isn't really thrilled with being indoors. Particularly because he's a red-tailed hawk. A very grumpy red-tailed hawk. Perched on one of the cabinets, he nudges a beak helplessly against the canned food within. Even if he morphed into his human form, he doesn't exactly have a can opener. Maybe he can find something small outside to hunt instead, but then other people need food besides him.

<I'm not sure how good this stuff is. I mean, who knows how long it's been here?> that's Tobias for you. As his thoughtspeech cuts across the room the screaming begins. He startles, briefly taking to the air before he settles down on a new perch and stares balefully at the jukebox.

<I'm not really a Johnny Cash fan but I'm pretty sure his songs don't include horrified screams...>

ii. the lumberyard

Again, Tobias doesn't really have a need for lumber, but he's also, you know a bird. Perched on a convenient branch or derelict power line, he studies the body with a grim resignation. He's seen bodies--just never quite like this. His head tilts from one side to the other, then his gaze turns towards his companion, whoever it is.

<Want me to scout it out? I mean, assuming we're planning on stealing some wood.>

[takenalive]

[another ANDALITE BANDIT

hi! I'm interested in ii but given who usually rides around in Alloran like he's a very swanky car... would you prefer they've already met and gone through that particular song-and-dance, or meet here and Tobias isn't talking to someone?]

Viggo Grimborn | HTTYD

[grimborn]

I. Blue Catfish Diner

[There is a Viking in the diner. He has never been in a diner before. Viggo wouldn't know what to expect from a normal restaurant if he ever found himself in one. This first impression leaves him less than impressed. At least he isn't bothered by the smell of decay. Running a finger over some grimy surface, he gives the kitchen a disparaging look.]

This building is filthy. Even a dragon's leftovers look better than this.

[He opens a cabinet, only to be greeted by the skittering of insects and a cloud of dust. He covers his face until it dissipates, then pulls out a small metal cylinder with a faded label.]

Hm? What's this thing?

[Maybe it's actually useful? He can't tell.]

III. Playing Field

[Cutting through the empty playground does not seem like the best idea, but it is a necessary step. It's a risk that needs taking, because if these monsters are anything like any of the ones Viggo knows, then he's going to want to find their active territories now rather than later when he's not prepared.

It seems harmless enough. The empty lot with broken harnesses he doesn't quite understand. That don't seem to have shut when they weren't rusted and broken, so he can't imagine what use they were, but there are plenty of strange things in this town he's still becoming accustomed to. It doesn't matter either, because when the strange, human-like creatures appear, the only interest he has in the harnesses are the chains they can provide. He could use a weapon, but he'll settle for a distraction.]

You there.

[He doesn't yell, but he does speak loudly enough to call to someone past the playing field.]

I don't suppose you could lend me your hand? I'm in need at the moment, it seems.

i

[thisisamazing]

[Left dragon-less and Astrid-less, teamless, Hiccup is having to fend for himself in this strange new world. Notes of music drift from somewhere and set him on edge, and he grips the knife from his flight suit tightly. It's not exactly a combat dagger, but it'll have to do.

The way things seem to be here, he almost thinks this place is playing tricks on him again when he hears that voice filtering out from the kitchen, just as smooth and cultured as the last time Hiccup heard it.

He creeps quietly toward the doorway leading into the kitchen, clutching the knife, preparing himself for some illusion or nightmare wearing a familiar face, but...]

Viggo.

[48demons]

II. Lumber Yard

[Back home, Hyakkimaru had only been concerned about survival in the day to day. Food was, while not being plenty, wasn't nearly as scarce as it was here, and both he and Dororo had little need for permanent shelter.]

[Still, it didn't take him too long to understand how vastly different this place was from home. If he and the others wanted to survive, they would have to fight for it. Sometimes, literally.]

[Today, though, it was figuratively. Usable wood, like everything else, was scarce, and they'd need more to survive.]

[After several hours of searching, Hyakkimaru soon came across the lumber yard. To his eyeless vision, everything resembled a cool, green flame, but having watched villages rebuild after demon attacks, he vaguely recognized the shape of the stacked lumber on the other side of the fence.]

[The fence, on the other hand, was more immediately concerning. Sure, there was a crucified corpse hanging up not that far away, but unfortunately to him, it looked no more or less macabre than any of the other corpses in town, and the sign might as well have been blank to him. The fence, on the other hand, was a more immediate concern. Giving it a slight shake, he heard the rattle of the chain holding it shut. Grabbing at it with his wooden hands, he could tell he wasn't cutting through any of this without severely damaging his swords, which wasn't much of an option here.]

Hmm.

[It was a small, slightly frustrated noise. He was still learning words, and didn't quite have enough to express himself all that freely just yet.]

III. Playing Field

[He had no need for the chains, since as soon as he saw movement from the play sets he pulled off his prosthetic right forearm, unsheathing the hidden blade that was underneath.]

[More unfortunately, however, was the fact that all he could see was movement. In the nightmare, unnatural and demonic energy was everywhere, filling his sight with the red flame in which he would normally see monsters and demons. He had to concentrate to see the movement, making his normal, rather reckless style of combat somewhat useless here.]

[Still, he still hadn't adapted to this situation entirely, and so as the creatures approach, he strikes out with a wide, violent swing, misjudging the distance and hitting only air.]

[He continued to swing as he backed up slowly, but blind as he was, he had no way of telling which direction was safe.]

III. Playing Field

[the_true_name]

((Let me know if you want me to use action tags!))

There's the sound of a footstep behind Hyakkimaru. It sounds, to someone who can pick up on those details, like the footstep of a small child - maybe, at the oldest, a teenager.

The small child doesn't seem to care about Hyakkimaru's prosthetics. Instead, they immediately hide behind him, cowering, peeking around his kimono at the strange monster children.

"Help me, mister! I can't fight!"

It's a complete act, of course. They're only hoping that this weird human will keep them safe, because if they don't, Chara knows that they're as good as dead.

Chara | Undertale

[the_true_name]

I - Blue Catfish Diner - Daytime

This place looks like just everything else in this wretched town - an abandoned dump. It smells like one too. None of the food looks appetizing, and worst of all, there's no chocolate. If Chara hadn't had to use their dagger to get the door open, they would have assumed it'd been looted by... somebody. They've never actually seen anyone else in this place.

But Chara knows one thing: they're a survivor. They'll make do.

While they're searching through the cabinets, the jukebox starts on its own, nearly making them jump out of their skin. They whip around, their dagger held close by.

But... it's just a jukebox, they think. Must be on the fritz.

Even when it starts... screaming. That's unusual. But it doesn't really scare them. It's like something out of a bad horror flick, really - a screaming jukebox? It's not like the screaming can actually hurt them in any way, and they're not about to give up a meal on account of being a coward.

It is strange, though. Maybe it's worth investigating. They walk closer to the jukebox.

"Anyone home?" they say to it, before reaching for the dials.

III. Playing Field - Nightmare

Why did you come here? Chara thinks. They're weaponless, there's no way to protect themself, and they're alone, and now these things that are like no monster they've ever seen are coming towards them. This place is a cauldron over the pits of hell and they thought a playground would be safe?

If only they still had their dagger! Not that they'd ever... used it on anyone. But they would to keep themself safe, wouldn't they?

A chain, though. There's no way they can use a chain. They'd probably just injure themselves.

Only one thing to do then.

Run.

They bolt straight away, hoping they can outrun these things. Not knowing if there's another one just around the corner, not knowing if their safety is at all assured...

They only know if they don't run, they're dead.

Re: Chara | Undertale

[anewhero]

I:

[ Unfortunately for the small girl, a larger man was looting the remains of the diner and held an old bottle of whiskey in his hands.]

"Depends on who you are looking for."

If the girl sees in the dark, she might observe a normal looking man with brown hair and a leather jacket just sitting there, a bit annoyed by the screaming jukebox.

Marcus Wright | Terminator Salvation: Final Battle

[anewhero]

I: Blue Catfish Diner: Daytime [ The half terminator man eyes the door of the said diner. Home damn sweet home. It just seemed wherever Marcus landed, it sent him to another hellhole with destroyed buildings.]

"no -?! No terminators?! No Skynet?! Was this for real?"

[ The Diner seemed like a good place to find some whiskey, real food other than a three-day wolf and dried beans. The terminator busted the door down, and came in, staring down everything in sight. But what ticked him off was the strange music playing. It wasn't Alice in Chain's Rooster but he swore it was just as bad. Marcus's rage swelled up as he gripped his knife in his hand and gritted his teeth.]

"I don't need any damn music right now."

[ The Terminator thinks about slamming his fist on the jukebox only to stop and regret his decision.]

[baptismbyzombie]

III.

[ The "Matilda," 12-shot capacity 9mm polymer frame handgun. It's a non-standard issue gun with several stock problems that make it impractical for the general public, but it's the only weapon Leon had come to trust and usually had in hand. Given his new and healthy paranoia of bio-terrorism, Leon hadn't thought he'd dropped into this unexpected hellscape underprepared for action, but Hell. Not like it's the first time his naivety has risen to chew him in the ass. No guns, nothing to swing besides some rusted chains -- shit, Kennedy. You've really put your foot in it.

He levels his gaze at the nearest thing ambulating towards him. Jesus, he's almost hesitant to label the creature as child-like, but the wailing, the desperate cries -- Leon's soft heart aches at the sound of it. To a sensitive man like him, the pain of the child is palpable. What could have happened to this place to pervert its inhabitants and make such a twisted abomination of innocence? Nevertheless, he steels himself and tightens his fingers into fists. It isn't just his life that's on the line. He shouts a warning to the remaining and presumably still-human companion beside him: ]

Stay behind me! Try to make it to the monkey bars or the top of the slide -- gain some distance between you and them!

[failderp]

[ Stay behind him? What kind of a plan is that? He's tired of people treating him like a damsel here, just because he's young. This guy can't have more than a few years on him anyway. Steve's face crinkles up disapprovingly, as he tries to block out the sounds coming from the child-like creatures. They're disturbing on another level than their appearance, with how distressed they sound. Maybe he would try to help, if he knew how, but right now all they are is enemies. ]

I can handle myself and we need to work together -- I'll draw them out of the way, you get to the chains!