etcelsior | sure, jan

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sure, jan

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping into MASK OR MENACE? Want to dip your toes into the setting and get a feel of whether your character will fit into it? Or maybe you're just cruising and want to play around? Then you've come to the right place!

Pick any of the following scenarios below or feel free to make up your own, but don't be afraid to throw yourself at anyone's thread, either!

And remember to have fun!

01. Your memory is hazy and you might feel increasingly frustrated or anxious, or maybe you're excited as soldiers march past, barely glimpsing you. One second you're somewhere underground, the next you're enveloped in blue light, and suddenly you find yourself directly under Flordia sun's bright and burning glare. A female soldier steps toward you with a wide smile on her face and directs you to a car, ready to debrief you. You realize you are not the only one, surrounded by equally confused or eager faces... and you're all sporting a digital tattoo on your wrist.

02. Welcome to Cape Canaveral, where the smell of the ocean is in the air and locals are more than pleased to see new imPorts roaming their streets. They wave, they cheer, they ask for pictures as politely as they can. The more inhuman you look, or if you're wearing a costume, the more likely locals are to approach. Hey, enjoy the moment! The popular malt shop is offering you a free drink if you need it.

03. The technology in this world is certainly something. The cars are clearly modeled after popular 50s cars, but they hover several feet above the ground as they drive down the street. There are digital jukeboxes in restaurants, motorcycles also hover through traffic, advertisements can be seen on a digital projector on the taller buildings. Even kids on skateboards appear to drift a safe ten feet off the ground while playing!

04. Wherever you are, you can hear the loud revving of an engine, distance at first before you finally see it: a hovercar bursting around the corner, going beyond the maximum speed limit and just barely making its sharp turn. It doesn't appear to be slowing down any time soon, not with two police cars trailing it... and uh oh. Those skateboarding kids don't have much time to get out of the way as the car comes speeding down the road. You've been brought here for a reason Hero — so you better act fast.

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02.

[ There are always trade offs.

On one hand, Ash Crimson is finding that he's been given little choice but to accept that he is both alive and rather blessedly alone in his own head. Despite finding himself in a version of America (a country he has never been entirely impressed with) at the apparent mercy of quite the unusual situation, he has to admit to himself that his continued existence was an enjoyable experience. It really was too bad that his own life guaranteed that he hadn't done anything permanent to his ancestor. This means the mission hadn't yet succeeded, and Betty's safe future not yet assured. That unsettles Ash, but he damn well knew right now there would be nothing he could do to solve it right away.

Ah, well. So long as he still existed, he could turn the situation to his favor. It was something of a personal talent of his. Better to get on as he was, and play whatever game there was to be played. That there were worse circumstances a person could find themselves in is a fact that doesn't escape his notice.

He's still rather distinctly disturbed that he's been pulled through the ether to an alternate dimension’s Florida of all damnable locales, but he can deal with the assault on his ears by obnoxious Americans-- several of which have even approached him out of the blue. That he draws attention to himself isn't much of a surprise by itself. Dressed in a flashy red outfit that could only be described as a costume along with his feminine features and flamboyant mannerisms, he's not one to be incognito.

What's so charming is that it's positive regard from strangers. At one point, he finds himself desperate to extricate himself from uninteresting conversation with an awfully high-pitched gaggle of strange girls. His efforts are rather graceless, but he doesn't care to put in any effort. ]

Mm, well, I've a friend waiting. Bye now.

[ Rather promptly with that statement, he flits away with a quickness that had to be entirely rude. He drapes himself halfway over the back of an occupied bit of seating, leaning in the personal space of the individual sitting there as if familiar. Casually, he speaks, ]

Why hello there.

[ It's only once he's in close that his bright, curious eyes focus and he takes in the details. ]

Edited 2015-02-27 03:53 (UTC)

[Cadel is entirely the opposite of flashy. Aside from his delicate, nearly pretty features and the disassembled bits of communicator strewn out in front of him on the table, he's entirely normal looking in his jumper, jeans and trainers. You'd have to talk to him to hear the educated Australian accent, and he's been discouraging talking.

The whole reason he's out here taking apart the tech he'd been provided instead of in his room is because he's sure there must be surveillance there. In his paranoid mind, recently primed from playing digital hunt and seek with Prosper, Vee, and by extension Raimo Zapp the Third, every CCTV is a spy. He knows that's probably not the case, at least in the sense that to the average government employee, he's not very interesting, and he hasn't yet made any personal enemies. But they do have a file on him and all of Cadel's experience with governments tells him that they'll take any excuse to confine him, horrifically computer-less, the second he gives them a reason to.

So here he is, in public at a park picnic bench, meticulously taking apart the only piece of tech he legally owns. He'd even purchased his set of eyeglass screwdrivers legally. Cadel is sufficiently out of his depth (read: scared) enough not to make any waves just yet.

Then his space is invaded; an unmistakable prickle goes up the back of his neck, preceding the lithe form that drapes itself beside him. Cadel is careful not to react defensively and sweep any of the pieces of phone away. That would draw attention to it as a weakness, potentially prioritize it to his visitor, and he needs this phone. Not just for his plans (what plans, he's fooling himself here) but for his mental sanity.]

Hello. [His gaze darts over to him.] Could you tell I'm another imPort? [He's trying not to be noticeable, and if something had flagged that, he wants to know.]

Aha, you are. I'd thought so.

[ There is no hesitation there, not a hint of falseness as he lies without a second thought. The other teen is... plain, which is oddly disappointing, but it's not like everyone wears their interesting features on the outside. Besides, all the little disassembled tidbits might mean he won't be a total waste to talk to. Maybe he's one of those technical sorts or something. That has to be an improvement over giddy teen girls.

He smiles easily at his fellow imPort, but there's something oddly expectant about the expression. While his features stay relaxed and his posture bonelessly unassuming, his gaze remains sharp. ]

Been here long? [ He gives Cadel no chance to answer, drawing his own conclusions. ] No, probably not, mm?

[Cadel does agree that there's little worse than giddy teen girls. Lexi was always too much for him to handle at once, no matter how brilliant she was at decrypting.

As for his opinion of Ash, he has the odd, familiar sense of the distant hostility at Axis Institute. It certainly does nothing to lessen his knife's edge awareness of danger, alone as he is. With that in mind, he refuses to be baited; he practices that blank look of unconcern that had always gotten him out of trouble as a child.

By now Cadel has learned how to socialize more properly (or at least how to mimic it), so he follows it up with a politely bemused,] Just a couple days. Everything's different here, isn't it? Or is it not so different for you?

[Courteous interest, that's all this is. What passes for imPort small talk, he's sure. Not redirection off of there being anything interesting about Cadel. Not for the first time, he's left in the uncomfortable position of having Prosper to thank for his ability to lie and misdirect so well.]

[ Ash does not read anything into the response, but rather brightens slightly at the return question. Most people, he's observed, love to talk about themselves and were often stupid enough to do so without a hint of a filter. The least dangerous generally did so without hesitation, spilling forth torrents of information. The malleable, the foolish, or the purely incautious could, too.

These are not bad traits to seem to possess when he's getting his footing in a new environment. ]

Florida is a multidimensional constant in my experience, and a dreadful pit. [ He shifts, deciding to actually settle on the bench next to Cadel with his back to the table. He stretches his legs out before him, crossing them at the ankle. He leans an elbow on the surface behind him, his casual movements not giving away that he was mindful of not jostling any of the disassembled bits and pieces. ]

Still, I can't say I mind much yet. This dimension is more mundane than my own, but it's a novelty.

[Although he can't know if it's intentional or not-- and it does look like it's not-- Cadel absolutely notices that Ash doesn't disturb any of his phone pieces. He's as protective of them as a mother cat over her kittens. He is marginally relieved to see that imPort small talk is an effective conversational gambit, and that his visitor isn't outwardly erratic. He really has no idea what to expect from anyone he encounters here. He has no data.

It's terrifying.

Good thing he can pull this benign, clueless teenager act in his sleep. Cadel nods at the assessment of Florida as a dreadful pit (though really he has no clue whether he agrees; he might if just because he's lost his adoptive parents, and college, after finally having gotten them). Otherwise he isn't very physically reactive, stuck in his own head as he so often is. But he does say, innocently enough,] What will you do when the novelty wears off?

[Which, of course, is not an innocent question at all. It's a character assessment-- more importantly, one piece of a threat assessment.]

Get to work, I suppose.

[ Cadel's distraction and vague disinterest is lulling, but that makes it easier for Ash to keep his own front up in the face of such a bland interaction. He could hardly be himself right then, after all, as people were always so disconcerted when he stopped pretending to be a fool. ]

It sounds like we can't really expect the natives to figure things out themselves, you know? It's stupid.

[ That's probably a common enough sentiment. Few could be happy with the scenario, but it would alienate people if displayed real conviction. He wants to strike that balance of displeased yet unvillainous without ringing terribly false.

He knows to be a good guy here until it becomes too inconvenient to pretend. No one got anywhere by proclaiming a desire to commit fiery rebellion for the greater good unless they wanted enemies, especially when that was what they were likely to actually do. ]

[In Cadel's warped view of the world, he assumes that if anyone looks normal, they must just be better at hiding their true nature. He knows that's not actually true-- Saul, Fiona, and Gazo have taught him better-- but in this strange environment, after having been kidnapped yet again, he reverts to his upbringing. He can't help it. It's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe. Far better to be proven wrong than right.

So Cadel, at least, isn't sure how effective he's being with his facade, but assumes that Ash is playing the same game. That doesn't mean he has to be ingenuine in everything he says.

Indeed, this is a topic he's very much invested in.] Or to share with us anything if they do, [Cadel suggests cautiously, testing the waters.] It's dangerous to have us here, sure-- an uncontrolled variable-- but it's advantageous, too.

[ Twirling his hair around a finger, he considers that. Quite on target, wasn't he? The stranger clearly isn't just preoccupied with his project and humoring him with small talk. ]

They've no motivation to accommodate anyone else's interests, certainly, though I do appreciate that they're polite about it. [ A mirthful sound briefly bubbles up in his throat, as if what he'd just said tickled him in some obscure way. ] It says a lot, how kindly we've been hijacked.

[ Why, no one's so much as tried to attack him in all the short time he's been here, holding up this facade of good nature and cooperation instead. Still, it has been only a matter of days, so there is still plenty of time to rub someone the wrong way. Or a lot of someones, knowing him.

He looks up to the sky, taking a brief break from playing with his hair to scrutinize his manicure. Finding it passes whatever metric he might judge by, he returns to the twirling yet again. For all that his posture stays relaxed, he doesn't find himself stopping in his idle fidgeting. ]

[His visitor is at least somewhat intelligent. Cadel is careful not to attach a value judgement to that anymore as Prosper would have, dismissing those of low intelligence completely, even thinking them poor tools. But he must admit that he finds it difficult to carry on conversations with outright stupid people; simultaneously, that makes him more dangerous.

At least it's a situation he's used to. Cadel shifts a bit in his seat, idly fingering some of the tiny mechanical pieces before him. He's forced to agree. He's been kidnapped many times and it's never been this polite, not even when Vadi had offered to make him pop tarts. He'd still been under close surveillance, Sonja's life had been threatened... Here, they'd handed him residence and schooling and the illusion of independence. He's been constrained, caged, so often that Cadel does appreciate the illusion.]

It could be meant as a form of social control. We're less likely to cause trouble if we're invested in our lives here. [Cadel shakes his head.] Not that I'd prefer the alternative.

It's cheaper than the alternative. [ The words are said with an air of confidence on the matter. He was usually taken less serious when speaking as if he had some significant experience in all sorts of matters, but then he didn't talk to many other people in his age group. ] Humans, especially, are easily appeased by bread and circuses.

[ It was rare and lucky, that his own pursuit of diversion got him a decent conversation. He could almost relax like this, and he sounds content enough as he admits without an ounce of shame, ]

But I think everyone has to love a good circus, don't they? I do.

[Already he'd been reminded of the prevailing attitude at Axis Institute, with the hair twirling and nail examining and cavalier air about invading his personal space, not to mention the clothes. All loudness and individualization. But this cements it, and it's not a positive association. Cadel has innate distaste for that sort of thinking-- stronger than distaste, really. More like an active aversion.

He does know how to handle it, and he has a choice here. He could pretend to go along with it. Cadel just isn't interested in pretending anything anymore. All of those lies and deceit are behind him.]

I don't, [he says shortly.] Not when there's people involved. [He's already seen all the human circuses he can stand.] Some people aren't that simplistic, anyway. That's not going to keep me happy-- is it going to work on you?

[Cadel seriously doubts it. Ash puts on a good air, but he knows his type and that type wants chaos. He could be making a potential enemy, alienating him with disagreement, yet Cadel finds he just can't stomach acting immoral to appease anyone anymore. It's a trapped position, one of helplessness. He also can't help but think that someone like Saul would never have considered that trade off in the first place, of disobeying his conscience to gain acceptance. That's the kind of person he wants to be.]

[ A laugh is startled out of Ash at that firm stance, and not one of his fluttery, effete little giggles either. It's an odd balance to him. For all that the earnest, doing-good, evil-hating set aggravated him, this... didn't strike him as that. No, there were no strident condemnations there, but it was still disagreement. He could appreciate that.

For a moment, he considers backtracking and blowing it off with a joke. He knows he can be a good fool when he puts his mind to it, but that might ring false. ]

I don't know yet. Maybe, if there's a good enough reason. [ A pause, then, ] The price has to be right, too, of course.

[ The hair twirling tapers off, but he's not stilling nonetheless. Instead, there's a little flicker of green between his fingers no bigger than a lit match, and he watches the colorful, wax-like fire shift before snuffing it out. If he could accomplish everything he desired for Betty, he could almost seriously consider letting the mortal insult of their situation pass.

Yet, he doubts that's about to happen any time soon. ]

I'm not going to put a price on anything. [He's just as firm as before, though he's getting a smidge worked up about it now, despite his best efforts not to. Cadel can't help being stressed, and he isn't a stone wall. He can't control his emotions under these conditions.]

I don't work for kidnappers. [There's definitely something personal underneath his vehemence. But then he's distracted, frowning in concentration at Ash's display of power. He knows by now, of course, that most people here have powers-- that he has powers, he'd taken a copy of his file, thank you very much, he was just too wary to use them-- but this is the first real display before his eyes. This wasn't anything like Gazo. This was more like special effects.]

Is that your ability?

You could say that, my principled friend.

[ Ash isn't so much getting distracted from the topic at hand as taking a temporary detour. Showing off was one of his favorite pastimes. He hadn't participated in the professional fighting scene just for his mission. There had always been an element of performance that he positively reveled in.

His long, black manicured nails seem to catch with emerald fire, though not with any harm to himself. The flames appear to bubble, a few tiny spheres drifting up into the air as he gestures idly. ]

My flames are my professional signature. [ Without hesitation, he segues into introduction. ] Ash Crimson, by the by. And you?

[Cadel isn't keen to emphasize the ways they disagree when his companion is, right now, apparently affable. He's aware that could change in a split second, but once again, that familiarity to Axis students makes him think it probably won't. It's all leashed chaos, and he hasn't done anything to mark himself as a target. He doesn't intend to. Certainly their disagreement so far hasn't seemed to bother Ash.

That doesn't mean he isn't secretly wondering if his professional signature doesn't involve murdering people through arson.]

Cadel Greeniaus. [He still appreciates it, every chance he gets to say Greeniaus. Cadel isn't sure he'll ever be able to take it for granted.] So you already had that before you came here. Did you get anything new? They showed you your file, didn't they?

Cadel Greeniaus. [ The young Frenchman repeats the name carefully first, as if making a particular note of it. He could be good with little details when he wanted to be, and Cadel is proving sufficiently distracting to be worth his attention. He thinks that he must be competent, though clearly more in a background way rather than a main act like himself. ]

I was cheated, Cadel. The jerks let me keep my flames and fashion sense, but they didn't give me an ounce more. It's unjust.

[ His low key irritation should scan as legitimate, he figures, as it would have been great to be even more powerful, but knows better than to mention a word on the rest of his tricks. He tosses his surprisingly well-behaved flames back and forth between his hands. ]

They ought to have given me flight or something. That'd be instant crowd pleasing material right there.

[Is he repeating his name that way because he's caught his special attention? Cadel sincerely hopes not. Questionably moral people liking him hasn't ever ended well.

He can't say that he's sorry not to have been given any 'crowd pleasing material' himself. Cadel vastly prefers staying out of the lime and is, however wary, honestly pretty intrigued by the powers that are listed on his file. If it's true that he can now type with his mind, that would be incredible. He wants to figure out how immediately-- he's just not sure if he needs a teacher, and if he does, he doesn't have the first clue who would be trustworthy.]

I was given a couple things, but it's not anything flashy, [he admits, deciding not to comment on Ash's, well, entire air. Cadel's adjusting.] At least you can use yours right off the bat. If something happens, you're obviously not defenseless.

[Not that Cadel's feeling especially vulnerable and defenseless himself right now or anything...]

I don't think there's anything worth troubling your pretty head over.

[ Though, on reflection, there's always the chance some little incident might get out of hand. He isn't too concerned, it sounded to him like the population of powered people was outrageously tiny. Yet, he had to make himself consider that normal people have different fears. The little things could annihilate them. It was hard to remember that, and almost impossible to completely sympathise.

Now, if he found hints of an Orochi-based cult or is equivalent in this dimension, he'd start to worry in a very real way. ]

I wouldn't worry. [ He affirms, trying to get off that nasty train of thought. He's rather focus on his company, and he speaks with animated hand gestures. ] It's not like anyone could make a name going after a geeky little thing like you. They'd embarrass themselves. 'Oh no, it's the scourge of the... computer repair guy' just sounds dumb.

[Weirdly, Cadel is almost comfortable with this attitude. Sure, he'd be happier with someone more like Sonja, but he's aware that she's one of a kind and he doesn't much expect the usual person he runs across to be kindly disposed toward him. Ash's cavalier non-concern, though, is certainly more benign than what he'd found at Axis. There's no threat seemingly lurking behind his words, as far as Cadel can tell.

For the first time, he starts to relax. Just a bit. He's as impatient with the comments on his looks as ever, but the complete discrediting of him as a threat is so novel that it's welcome. Cadel hasn't heard anyone write him off in years. It's best to encourage that line of thinking, even if it grates just a little.]

I'm definitely worthless in a fight, [Cadel sighs, and this part is honest. He slumps a chin onto one hand.] But this is a-- a whole different universe. I have no idea what the rules are. [His lips purse.] I can't anticipate threats until I get a handle on what's going on.

[Making a secret database of collected information on fellow imPorts and government officials is starting to get tempting.]

Getting the broad strokes on the major players can't be hard. People pay attention to the imPorts.

[ He eyes Cadel, measuring. Never once does it occur to him to ask what he could do. Automatically, he assumes there would be no real value gained. If there was something interesting to know, he's confident that it will come out in time. Probing questions would probably clam the anxious boy right up. ]

Did your home dimension have so little in common with this one? Sounds dull.

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sure, jan

Ash Crimson - King of Fighters /casually slides in here for now

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