Lies a place that few have seen.

[maskormods]

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 someone else's thread, either!

And remember there's only one rule in Test Drive Meme Club: have fun!

01. The city of Heropa is what one might expect from a small, bright and cheery place, where locals are friendly enough and local shop owners might offer a free drink to welcome you to their fair city. Some of the locals might thank you for always lending your service to the nation, while others might not say anything -- but if you have something nasty to say, better not say anything at all, right? This month has been a rocky one, and locals are beginning to eye imPorts with renewed scrutiny; if people like them can get superpowers, are imPorts really that special, after all? Some people usher their children away from anyone clearly not 'from around here,' while other natives may be brave enough to directly approach obvious imPorts and ask their thoughts on the war with Russia and what the imPort ambassadors are planning to do about it.

ImPorts are a divisive issues, even in pretty Heropa.

02. De Chima, Virginia, is a large city with a healthy economy, and though it's quieter, there are just as many citizens awed at your very presence. Look at you! Organic wonder! Science and technology are the lifeblood of this city, so you're likely to come across a good many locals taking your picture with the newest of devices. The imPort craze is at an all-time high, and you may find yourself cornered by overzealous imPort fans, media wannabes and opportunists alike, shoving cameras in your face.

Their questions are likely to be fairly mundane, however; get ready for an interview about your taste in romantic partners, personal underwear choices, favourite foods, and more!

Also, as the Halloween craze is reaching a fevered pitched, more and more children are running around in costumes of their favorite imPorts! Do you recognize any of these masks? Perhaps one of these costumes mimics YOU!?

...

Isn't that kinda creepy?

03. Maurtia Falls, Pennsylvania is populated by a whole lot of people who are having awfully bad days. With the emergence of locals with superpowers, many seem to have latched onto their new supercharged identities with an incredible amount of gusto. As your character walks down the street, they may find themselves accosted by a large man in his mid-20s, dressed in an ill-fitting spandex suit of orange and yellow. As he thrusts his finger into an imPort's face, the spandex rides up, turning into more of a crop-top, which he duly tugs back down before shouting, "You're not the special ones anymore, imPorts! Feel the wrath of Heartburn!"

Stupid name aside, he does seem to have superpowers as he breathes a large plume of fire. His aim still isn't great, though; it could hit the imPort in question, or be sent in the direction of a nearby local, or even a particularly flammable building.

What will you do, Hero?

04. Nonah, North Carolina, is the liveliest of all cities; loud, busy and there's some kind of energy in the air that gets everyone buzzing with excitement. This fine day, pumpkin spice seems to be in style, to the point at which you happen to be crashing an open pumpkin spice festival. From drinks to sweet treats to some other things that really, really shouldn't be pumpkin spice flavoured (pumpkin spice flavoured vodka, anyone? It tastes like regret!), everyone seems to be in the mood for the upcoming season.

Taste test a few samples and take in the hustle and bustle of the city, everyone! And hey, if just gorging yourself isn't enough, why not try your hand at the pumpkin carving contest going on? The competition is fierce!

Comments

[shipmaster]

Are you kidding?

[The look doesn't get any less venomous. Hatred boils into outright fury as they shift as well. It's aggressive, but they haven't moved to attack yet...for some odd reason, they're holding back.]

After all that, you expect that to fly? You know damn well who I am, Mark.

[jacksonian]

[ That's - far more than the anger Mark would expect from just a business transaction gone wrong. And it suddenly registers...the strangeness about this person's voice. Betan accent. They're Betan. Hermaphrodite? Possibly - But when did Mark ever cross a Betan?

And how do they know his name...? They're from his future. They have to be. And so Mark really doesn't know what he's done. All he knows is that he needs to defuse the situation before he gets hurt, without even knowing what he's defusing.

How familiar.

He shifts his weight backwards, lips thinning, fists clenching. And he says: ]

What, are you going to jump me? You're a long way from any Betan embassies. And I've been here a while. I know how to work this system. Want to see how it turns out?

[shipmaster]

[The shift to threats confirms it in Bel's mind. So what? A couple days in jail versus the satisfaction. Without any warning at all, they lunge into a smart, clean punch towards Mark's still smarting nose.

The armor flickers and vanishes mid punch like a holo being dismissed, replaced by Dendarii greys. Bel didn't want to kill him. Not Miles brother. Not that sad, untrusting wretch Bel decided to help all on their own. Just. A little bit of justice in the crack of knuckles.]

[jacksonian]

[ Fuck.

In the armor - this is going to hurt. And so Mark puts all of his energy into shielding himself, hiding the parts where a blow would outright kill him. So Bel's punch lands on his face, angled so that it won't destroy his bones and wreck him and kill him -

And it ends up being hardly anything at all. Hah. Is that really it? They're not using the power of the armor - no, it's gone altogether, Mark notes distantly, which is weird. Weird, but not his concern right now. Instead - Instead, he leans into the punch, twists around, grabs the hermaphrodite's wrist, and yanks them forward, forcing them off-balance. A kick to the back of the knee, to send them tumbling to the ground. ]

[shipmaster]

[They watch the horizon lurch, roll and rise up as Bel's own momentum was used against them. God. They were going to leave it at one. But if Mark wanted to do this? That was FINE.

They turn the hard fall into a soft roll and surge up, elbow leading towards Mark's gut. Bel is good. Trained and oft practiced, their form was tight, economical and levels above your average spacer. It simply wasn't professional killer, either.]

[jacksonian]

[ Mark doesn't dodge. He lets the hermaphrodite hit him, and just doubles over slightly, winded and in pain, at the blow. But he grins, too, the expression half-mad and very unpleasant. And he grabs onto their arm, fingers digging in hard, leaning in towards Bel, hissing - ]

Come on. You can hit harder, can't you?

[shipmaster]

[From that angle, Mark has a fantastic view. The moment realization strikes that Bel doesn't have a chance. The concept that they're playing with something much bigger, much meaner than they are, and fear that slithers after it...

And that precipitous battle between that seething fury and tense, canny calculation struggling for a toehold.

They didn't strike, didn't slump, just hissed, sneering.]

If you want that kind of beating, see a goddamn professional.

[jacksonian]

[ The feelings that well up in Mark are...complicated. There's sick glee at getting the best of them, and them knowing he won; sick self-loathing, to have someone look at him with dread and fear; frustration at the nastiness of their comment; frustration that he feels a rush of flustered nervousness, that the implication is sexual, and coming from a hermaphrodite who isn't a woman but who's something like a woman and he's thought about that but that doesn't matter, he just is embarrassed and embarrassed that he's embarrassed; annoyance that they came up with that snappy a retort that quickly. He shoves at their elbow, pushing them down towards the ground.

The miserable, drawn-out grin becomes a glower in the span of just a few seconds. ]

Tell me who the hell you are.

[shipmaster]

[Bel picks themselves up, posture taunt but no longer that wire crack aggressive. They show bruising of pride more than anything, stepping back out of the shorter man's immediate radius.

They give Mark the most incredulous look. Their tone is sharp, mocking.]

Captain Bel Thorne of the Ariel, Dendarii Free Mercenaries.

You might have heard of us.

[jacksonian]

[ He has. And the name clicks, too. No details to go with it, but he remembers the name - one of Miles' earliest recruits. There's just a slight tightening around his eyes and lips, a tiny quick motion, as the full weight of who this herm is - and what they think of him - sinks in. One of Miles', from the future, who encounters him and knows him - knows him well enough to know him as Mark - and so it's an encounter in which Miles gives him that name. And yet even so there's hatred. Even so, they want to hit him. So - he screws it up? If one of Miles' wild-eyed mercenaries hate him, then it must not be good. Something must go wrong. But what? How? What happens?

Whatever it is, it's probably your fault.

His mouth is lying faster than his brain can work. Carrying on the business of keeping him safe even as he's mentally frozen in indecision. ]

Maybe. Doesn't ring any particular bells.

[shipmaster]

[It's enough to let just a little doubt creep in. Not enough to drop their guarded posture or hard expression... But a little... ]

Fine. What name are you going by this time? But if you say Miles, I'm putting my armor back on, so help me God.

[jacksonian]

[ What can he say to that? After all, he's Lord Mark now, and proudly so. But by the herm's expression, by that earlier name, to affirm that name would mean to affirm some earlier impression they have of him. And he has no idea what impression that is. Aside from a very bad one.

So he doesn't answer. He doesn't know how. Instead, with the suppressed fear of someone improvising who's none too good at improvising: ]

Now that I think of it - Thorne, you said? I actually do seem to recall something about you. Something Miles said.

[ If Thorne is as Naismith-crazy as the reports portray all the Dendarii...Maybe that bit of information, teased out to them, will give Mark some leverage. ]

[shipmaster]

[It's hard to find a mercenary MORE Naismith crazy. But that wasn't an answer. It wasn't even hiding that it wasn't an answer very well.

The cross their arms over their chest and motion for Mark to continue, one eyebrow arched.]

[jacksonian]

[ Okay. That - didn't do what he wanted. All right.

All right. ]

Well. Not my place to comment on. You'll have to talk to him yourself. He is here, you know.

[ Get distracted by that, get distracted by that, please... ]

[shipmaster]

[And what a distraction it was. Bel pauses, pursed lips turn into a frown, brows lined with worry, even as their eyes darted up to Mark's to be sure, be really sure that the Admiral was there, hopefully.

They knew from the start that they'd have to face Miles - here was the surprise. And found that they wanted to. God they wanted to. Get it over with, clear the water, take their dressing down. Hell, they were probably getting busted down to lieutenant ... but Bel couldn't even pretend that they wouldn't do it again it was just...

In that split second of tangled thought, their frown turns towards Mark, perhaps uncomfortably thoughtful.

They don't say anything immediately, just watch him, picking apart their expression, set, even weight, a little at a time, trying to work THIS strange puzzle out.

At length, at uncomfortable length,]

You really don't know, somehow...

[jacksonian]

[ He nearly jumps when Thorne speaks. He'd have been startled less if they'd attacked him again - hell, that's what he'd been expecting. To hear their voice again is weird. He looks up at them, sweat prickling along the back of his neck, tension churning nauseously in his gut.

He should pretend knowledge. He doesn't like being in the dark - more, doesn't like being perceived as being in the dark, because it's dangerous when people think they have an advantage over you. But - he really doesn't know. He doesn't even have the beginnings of understanding. ]

I don't know what?

[shipmaster]

How much you deserved that punch.

[Bel didn't know how, didn't know why... But this kid really doesn't... Shit. Some weird alternate reality? ]

Nevermind. Where IS Miles?

[jacksonian]

[ Mark stares at Bel, jaw working. Does he want to know? Probably not. Probably it'd be better if all his fuck-ups just remain unknown. It'll be better for his sanity, for him...But - ]

Why did I deserve it, then?

[ He's been around Miles too long. His progenitor's self-destructive curiosity is infecting him. He used to be able to keep his mouth shut. ]

[shipmaster]

[They stare at Mark for a second. There was an urge to just lay it out, cut him with the words (share the burden).. But the action itself, Bel wasn't inclined to weaponize. That was nothing but right.

Still, there was utterly nothing that was born anywhere kind in what they actually say.]

... No. [Mark hadn't even answered the most simple, OBVIOUS of questions, why should Bel?]

You know what? Stew on it.

[jacksonian]

[ His eyes snap up to meet Thorne's, his face twisted with uncertainty and fear and anguish and doubt. But of course. What answer did he expect other than that? Thorne hates him, after all. And by asking, he gave them a little hook to put under his skin, a string to draw tight and yank at him whenever they wanted. Stupid. Stupid. He's always doing these sorts of things to himself, even though he knows better. He just can't help it...

He looks off to the side, jaw clenched, fists clenched. ]

Fine. Then I won't take you to Miles.

[shipmaster]

[There's a moment. Just a moment of sympathy. Good God, Mark really is just a young thing. They're reminded again. Just as sour, inexperienced, skittish and well.. a product of that horrifying creche.

And if he's not lying... he hasn't done anything. They run their hand over their face, angry. Angry at not really being justified in being angry because DAMMIT THEY WANT TO BE ANGRY RIGHT NOW. And just sort of sick. They need to get their head on straight.]

Look. Forget it. [They shake their head and just.] I'll find him if you haven't made that up.

[jacksonian]

It'll be faster if I help you.

[ Mark looks back at them, jaw set. Expression equal parts determined and miserable. And he amends his previous statement so that it sounds less weak: ]

If I tell you.

[ Then, in frustration: ]

I've never even met you before, Thorne. Why do you get to hate me?

[shipmaster]

[It hits true and a little too hard. They at their teeth hard to keep them from grinding.]

I'm going to ask one last time. Your name?

[jacksonian]

[ He drops his head and stares hard at his shoes. But ultimately...Ultimately, he's not ashamed of his name. He's not ashamed of who he is. So Bel Thorne hates Mark. So what? So giving his name will confirm the herm's hatred. So what? ]

Lord Mark Vorkosigan.

[ Belatedly, it occurs to him that...right, yeah, maybe that's giving away a bit much about Miles' identity, too. The mercenaries all think he's Naismith, don't they? But...Whatever. Thorne will find out anyway. ]

[shipmaster]

[Bel had been ready for a lie. Something to dig their teeth into, to justify everything they feel, to continue shifting most of the blame over. They were ready for a non-answer. They were ready for anything but the truth.

They ended up staring, off balance. Weariness takes their expression. ]

... Come on then. I'm not having this conversation in the middle of the road.

You're buying, Mr. Knows The System.