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

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Deep enough of a nick to draw blood. Just a droplet, not even a satisfying trickle, but Frederick Chilton did not like the whisper of yet another scar carved into his routinely brutalized flesh. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, hoping to bite back that whimper that threatened to crawl out of the depth of his throat.

And in the absence of prayer, he thought. Quickly. The thief wore gloves and had Chilton at an angle that didn't favor the doctor's own hands -- no use in conjuring a sedative, no hope in grabbing a piece of skin exposed to his element.

He knew his collar was stained. Red that would darken to brown, ruining an inoffensive blue. Raina had picked out this shirt. He knew this bank was located off a busy street and adjacent to a full parking lot, one crawling with a pick of cars, just has he knew the traffic would delay any swifter police response and the parking lot made it difficult to engage alternative routes. Perhaps the thief had even calculated upon that.]

I can't -- [Chilton opened his eyes.] I cannot be held responsible.

[He had a second power. A sort of telekinesis over certain kind of machines: transport technology. Psychic Vehicular Driving. And that was why a black Cadillac Escalade slammed at illegal speeds into reinforced glass doors, that was why over 5,000 pounds of steel met with crushing concrete, that was why the bank shuddered with a sudden and inexplicable force.

Chilton had hoped to drop to his knees and crawl away in any confusion that he inspired. He had hoped to escape responsibility.]

[blackhat]

[ Reinforced or no, glass explodes inward in a million polished pieces, crashing over the floor in a blue-green wave. Shrapnel comes with it, along with smoke -- the fire alarm sounds, old-fashioned, bell like a jackhammer. A couple of patrons lurch out through an emergency exit with the security guard. The teller trips the hold up switch and makes a break for the back.

In all the chaos, escape comes easy, at first. It’s like the man in black has vanished into thin air. No more knife, no more gun -- no shadow looming at Chilton’s heels

Instead, a column of smoke plunges up from the floor at the good doctor’s fingertips, black as pitch, to resolve itself into the robber, blade, bandanna and all. For an instant, his eyes burn like embers in the thick of it -- then he’s real, hale and whole and human, with sparks curling round the crunch of his boots against broken glass.

Gun at his side, he cocks the hammer back clickety-clack. ]

Didn't catch that last part, [ he says, voice raised to rake in under the racket of the bell. ] Something about being 'held responsible.'

[ There are others still cornered inside -- huddled near the walls. This is just Frederick's luck. ]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Oh, goddamn, he thinks. Goddamn.

His fingertips recoil by instinct, and Chilton slowly leans back onto his haunches, effectively kneeling before this man dressed in black. His crawl towards safety already upended, Chilton had little recourse left than to talk his way out of a painful situation. Eying that barrel, the doctor took a measured breath inwards.

And smiled.]

You are an imPort. [It was either that or this was a highly fetishistic bank robber, a dilemma Chilton had considered just before the eerie shadow play. But the vehicle crash soon clarified the matter, as violence often does.] Just as I am.

[The ceiling sprinklers above, now triggered, drenched the tension -- but did not drown it. Water had a funny way of magnifying. Bells screamed within the hollowed room, the shrieking trill a match to Chilton's own panicked pulse. He didn't spare a glance to the remaining hostages. His focused found dedication in only this man and his cocked gun.]

We should leave. [We. As if they shared any sort of kinship through an imPorted circumstance.] The police will come, you will be outgunned. We really ought to leave.

[A whisper crawled from the back of his mind: if this man could teleport like some brimstone devil, why didn't he just teleport into a banking vault instead? Was it the drama he wanted? The adrenaline he craved?

Did he just desire to display some showmanship?]

[blackhat]

‘We?’ [ That seems to tickle him -- his eyes are bright, creases cinched in tight at the corners, trace evidence of a crooked grin behind the veil of his bandanna. Filthy water pummels the wide brim of his hat and creeps through the snake-hide texture of his coat, black on black, and he’s having the time of his life. ]

The hell are you talking about, ‘we?’

[ He lifts his revolver into a lazy point at Chilton’s head, taking things from bad to worse easy as the flick of a horse’s ear. ]

You looking for a promotion? Hostage to bandito?

[ Cruel humor twists his brows up into a prompt -- but he’s not angry. More like this is a brand of ambition he can get behind. ]

Better get up off your knees and grab that money bag.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[The moment the possibility of a bullet aligned with his head, Chilton's heart skipped a beat. He resisted the urge to close his eyes, to whimper a prayer.

His reluctance to take action, any action, paid off.]

The -- money bag. [Oh, god. An accomplice, that was the alternative offer at hand. Chilton staggered to his feet, numbly staring for the bag. The water soaking into his clothes frosted his temperature, but it was the man in black's perverse enjoyment that thrust that ice he felt in his veins now. With a trembling hand, he reached to grab the temporarily neglected money bag.

It was too raw an offer to reject.]

I can secure us a car.

[Psychic driving at its most literal. His frantic gaze darted across this chaotic, crumbling scene.]

The parking lot. Our pick of any empty vehicle.

[blackhat]

Secure one, then. [ The man in black fits his gun back down into its holster, knife switched over to his right hand so that he can reach for the money bag Chilton’s retrieved with his left. ] And try to keep the heroics to a tolerable minimum.

Be a crime to get blood on that tie.

[ Like the shitwater in the pipes hasn’t done enough. Bag and all, he goes up in a snarl of thick smoke, pierced through by sprinklers on its way to striking for the great hole the escalade left behind. A few seconds later, the shape of him reappears in the parking lot, waiting.

At ease, despite the wail of sirens on the approach.

Also dry, which must be nice for him. ]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Water dripping off his heel with each and ever step, Chilton fled to the middle of the lot in a run. He didn't comment on the man in black's sudden dryness, although he shot enough of a venomous look to speak something smart. The sirens in the back of his mind and now rounding his ears, Chilton was quick in his calculation.

Small. Fast. Mundane.

A black Honda Civic, with same state license plates. Chilton pointed to it and then clenched his fist. The door locks popped open, the ignition started. The car backed out of its slot, turned, and ambled to meet its riders.

Chilton was lucky that the only camera was pointed directly at the outside ATM. That was only sheer luck.]

I'll drive.

[Heroics were never the problem. What Chilton had running through his mind were the new mathematics in betraying this man as soon as he humanly could.]

[blackhat]

Funny, [ he says, as he pops the passenger side door and rolls himself down into the seat, ] that SUV didn’t have a driver either.

[ He drops the money bag down on the floorboard between his boots and works the seat belt, taking his time with buckling up. Grinning to himself while he does. Chilton’ll drive. That’s fine. ]

I like the color.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Glad you approve.

[Banter when he was shellshocked scared. His kind of coping mechanism, surely something the man wearing black wouldn't question. A deep breath and a squaring of his own shoulders, and only then did Chilton assume the driver's seat.]

Direct me.

[The sirens howled along the streets as Chilton pulled out of the lot. He forced one competitive car at a time to stall so he might merge at the most timely corner, swiftly taking them out of this road and onto a freeway.

All the while he plotted his escape.]

[blackhat]

Hell, I don’t know where we are. [ The man in black extends one gloved finger past his knife to roll down his window, tick, casual as anything. Glass whispers down into the frame. Wind rushes in, along with the sound of traffic: white noise and cold air. Knife switched to his left hand, he maneuvers his revolver crossways off his hip with his right.

Just in case, surely. ]

You’re the one who wanted to drive.

[ As they’re merging, he hangs the revolver wide out his window, squints, and pops a shot clean through a set of police lights on an SUV headed for the bank behind them. ]

[slightlyoffchilt]

I would have to take control of the car regardless. [Although...] You seem very comfortable, around all this technology. Are you breaking character? Or just highly adaptable?

[Because the man was obviously an imPort, so the question remained: was he from an Old West world, or did he just like to dress up and look pretty?]

I think-- [And the man in black shot at that cop car, and the cop car swerved off the road, slamming aside. Chilton yelped and surged his power, clearing their exit through black smoke that prophesied a fire.]

What! The hell!

[blackhat]

I am that I am, [ is the answer, humble as they come in the beat before he first pulls the trigger, and everything goes to hell in a tunnel of black smoke.

In the Civic, the man in black chuckles, already knocking the hammer back to crack a second shot through the SUV’s back window as they blow past. ]

I think they’re onto us. [ He has to raise his voice to clue Chilton in over the mess he’s made. Helping out in case Frederick is too focused on the road to have noticed. ]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[He shifted his attention from swiftly clearing the road for himself, car by car, to seeking out any other hidden police SUVs and killing their engines. Better to be an accomplice to armed robbery than it was to be that and accessory to murder! Especially when a specific breed of person was killed, Chilton had already experienced what it was like to be on the bad end of a "cop killer" accusation.]

You! Are enjoying this!

[In another world, or at least another state of mind, Chilton would have savored that fact. His captor/partner was clearly psychopathic. This was raw data unfolding beside him as they darted between cars, dashing over asphalt.]

[blackhat]

That your professional opinion?

[ The man in black finds the switch again with his middle finger, glass scrolled up to screen the wind and the sound of distant sirens into the softer hiss of air through the vents. He dials the heat up a touch with the tip of his knife, revolver turned over idle across his far knee.

Havoc wrought, he tips his head back to eye Chilton across the center console instead. ]

Doctor?

[slightlyoffchilt]

[His shoulders tensed upwards, forwards, his back muscles expanding to a slight hunch. Chilton was damn sure that he hadn't given himself any proper introduction -- and therefore, that meant that this man dressed in black had done his research. Which made the bank heist seem less random, less chaotic. And that made Chilton far, far more nervous.

He didn't like the wheeze of heat flooding this stolen car. It felt thick to him, it pressured against his skin.]

The natives are only human. [It was almost a plea for compassion, but more realistically a complaint for restraint.] We stand to resurrect. They do not. So try to dial down the sadism, won't you? For you own good health.

[He made a sharp swerve, veering off the interstate. Seeking quieter, more anonymous roads.]

Because I have no qualms slipping a psychopath into a straitjacket. Especially one of the imPort variety.

[blackhat]

[ Something tightens under the man in black’s skin at that particular word choice -- psychopath -- subtle in a rankle and a flash of white when his half a smile hooks into a grin.

Like a police dog, eager to bite. ]

You ever cut one open to make sure?

[ He’s genuinely curious, in an angling-to-help kinda way. There’s a flask on his belt; he pushes the knife away slow to trade it out so that he can unscrew the cap between them, watching Chilton all the while. Smells like tequila, while they’re busy breaking laws anyway. ]

Hell, you probably haven’t even cut on yourself.

Just take it for granted that you’re something superior. Anointed by the gods of this world to write prescriptions and rob banks.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I tend to let them do the cutting.

[Mildly spoken in his airy tone, as if he knew how his voice sounded from the gleaming window of his ivory tower. The remark cut both ways; Chilton had Abel Gideon cut up that nurse, and Gideon had collected the debt to Chilton's own gut. It wasn't the sort of scar he would want to expose, not physically nor emotionally. The road they had taken that river-spawned off the highway now bled into a backwater street. The asphalt was bumpy, forgotten.

Chilton kept his smile tightly coiled.]

Unless, of course, you are offering? You know I need your consent.

[At that word, with that emphasis, he forced the car off the road, down the gentle grassy slope with the wheels drifting sideways -- psychically performed. Meanwhile his hand was outstretched, reaching for the man's face, glad for the exposure of the mouth thanks to that inviting tequila.

Sedative was waiting in his fingertips.]

ww spoilers in tags from here on down

[blackhat]

[ I’m old and I forgot about the bandanna.

Bandanna tugged down loose under his chin, arrogant, the man in black offers Frederick the first sip. And how is he repaid? Tires skipping over gravel and a hand to the face, that’s how.

For an instant, William’s jowls give cool against Chilton’s fingertips.

Then he’s gone, flash in pan heat tucked into a snarl of smoke that fills the cabin -- stinging, choking, swirling dark against the windows. His pistol rolls forgotten into the far door with a sound like a lead brick -- dead weight. ]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Well, shit.

Chilton's powers only worked when he was conscious and focused, a state of mind highly enabled by a paucity of any stinging, choking smoke presently polluting his stolen car. He gasps, his nausea clogging his throat, gagging, and his vision blurs.

The engine kicks, then stalls. The car slides down the final little hill at a geometrically flawed angle -- it tips, its nose suddenly armed with too much velocity at the wrong side of gravity. It tips, metal screams. The shell puckers as it rolls, with Chilton locked inside, airbag squished against him.

A whimper, not a bang. Not a crash. Just a lapse -- the good doctor was not dead. Not immediately. Chilton struggling against the airbag, his own senses not yet meeting equilibrium, his head rushing with blood and heart pounding. The car was upside down, but he managed to dislocate his seat belt and had then kicked open the door, stumbling, gasping, coughing and crawling towards freedom.

The ground was dewy beneath his bare palms and slacked knees.]

[blackhat]

[ Black smoke rolls out after him, like ink through water. The man in black resolves out of the thick of it, embers sizzling in wet grass, steam winding around his boots while he takes time to look down upon Chilton’s retreating be-hind. He leans to snag his flask up out from where it’s splashing tequila into the wreckage before he slips his knife off his belt. Cap’s probably a lost cause.

He can buy a new flask. ]

Hell of a spill, [ he remarks, as he draws up on Chilton’s flank.

One swig from his flask, and he sets a boot heel into the doctor’s ribs and gives it a stout little shove. ]

You sure you should be moving?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Damn it.

[He spoke with a groan. It was sturdy enough of a footed shove to land Chilton on his side -- wincing, aching Frederick Chilton no longer moving freely. Feebly he tried to kick out at William, but his well-heeled shoe had angled too wide. Missed the lean man's gritty form entirely. Sedative seemed to have worn off, he thought. Figures.

Chilton stayed in the grass, cheek down and eyes upwards. Snake in the grass a little too on the nose.]

Go away.

[Such bold words.]

[blackhat]

In a minute.

[ William straddles over him with a wide step, not half as keen on following directions as Chilton might like. He’s still gloating, measuring out his next move when something down low catches his eye.

Halfway to lifting his flask for a second shot, he stoops to hook his knife up in under the loose him of Frederick’s shirt instead. What he sees when he nudges the fabric up another few inches is enough to have him winding slowly back upright in a state of something like appreciation, blade at an easy jut away from his knee.

Tut. ]

I wish I could say I was surprised.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[It wasn't the indignation that gave Chilton that paralytic pause as William looked over the damaged goods, it wasn't a freeze born from any sense of shame. His numbed movement came from the sheer authority that this man in black demonstrated -- the ease of audacity. It was the sort of attitude that bespoke a man of privilege.

Chilton recognized it. He had tried to claw his way into that luxury time and time again.]

You collect scars? Would have pegged you more as someone with brutalized emotional tissue.

[Stilled muscles or no, Chilton's tongue still worked. It would lash against any appraisal, even as the doctor began to pinch up pieces of this puzzling man.]