TEST DRIVE #002

[reveriemod]

TEST DRIVE #002

( 0 0 1 ) » WAKE UP

Were you asleep or were you unconscious? It doesn't matter: when you come to, there's an odd taste in your mouth and there's a low-level mechanical hum in the air. Your head hurts and you feel nauseous. You aren't anywhere you know: everything around you is metal, from the floor you lie on all the way to the ceiling. You are dressed in a jumpsuit you definitely weren't wearing before.

"We tried to save the world. I think— I think we did the opposite."

The message repeats on a loop. If you look for its source, you find a comms device on the floor next to you. The logo on its wallpaper says REVERIE TERMINAL. Upon closer inspection, you find the same logo on your jumpsuit.

Welcome to your new home. What choice do you have but to explore your surroundings?

( 0 0 1 . 1 ) » WAKE UP WHERE?

When you wake up, you find that you're not alone. But more importantly, you find that you're in a closet. An empty closet, bar you and your new companion. It's small, cramped, and there is no door that you can see. The ceiling is low, there is barely any lights, only some coming from the tiny flashlight clipped to your suit's shoulder. You cannot be sure that there is any air coming in to the room.

Are these grooves in the wall supposed to mean something?

( 0 0 2 ) » OBSERVATION DECK

There were no windows in the corridor you woke up in and no windows in any of the crew quarters you might have checked for occupants — but there are plenty of windows on the uppermost level of the station, deck 1. In fact, there are windows from floor to ceiling all along the circumference of the station's circular deck, and it's possible to walk along it all. What it shows is a strange solar system you've never seen before and a planet that might resemble one you know, but certainly isn't the same.

You're in space. You don't know where you are. Neither does anyone else.

( 0 0 3 ) » BAR

On deck 3, you find the bar. Tucked away from the crew quarters, it's dimly lit, there are bar stools thrown down on the floor and what looks like some very old drink spills, crusty and dark against the bar top. But there is alcohol here, or at least, what you think is alcohol, in bottles with faded labels, most of them indecipherable. Take a drink, get drunk, start a fight, or start a party? You're stuck on this station, might as well make the most of it, right?

( 0 0 4 ) » SPACEQUAKES

One second, you are is walking. Magnetic boots are on, the ground feels solid enough, for a metal deck in a space station. Everything is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as it can be, given that you still don't know where you are or how you came to be here.

The next moment, it's like everything explodes around you. You're thrown against the wall as sparks erupts from electrical panels, as the whole station rumbles and shakes around you. You fall to the deck, earning yourself scratches from the grating. When you look up, it's like nothing has happened. No wires hanging from open panels, no flickering lights, no more shaking. Like an earthquake in space.

( 0 0 5 ) » NETWORK

The comms device you found next to you when waking up connects to a station-wide network, REVERIE NET. You have the option to post video, voice or text messages.

What will you share?

( 0 0 6 ) » WILDCARD

The station features a variety of locations, from sleeping quarters free for the claiming to a dirty swimming pool and a bar that still holds alcohol (though some of the bottles seem to have been opened a while ago).

Go wild, but don't wreck the place. It's your home for the foreseeable future, after all.

Comments

charles xavier ( x-men / ota. )

[mentis]

( oo1. )

( For a moment, when he wakes, it's easy to pretend that the throbbing in his head is from a hangover. It usually is, these days. He lays on his back, an unfamiliar weight upon his chest, and refuses to open his eyes. But then the voice filters through the fog. Charles blinks slowly, eyes gummy, his lashes stuck together.

We tried to save the world. I think— I think we did the opposite.

It isn't a voice in his head, he knows that's ridiculous. It's been years. But it's incessant and insistent and he has to pay attention. And so Charles finds himself thrown unceremoniously into the realm of consciousness, rolling over onto his knees and groaning loudly. He feels sick. What did he drink? But no, he didn't. He was just --.

Erik. Raven. Christ, Erik had shot Raven. )

Hello?

( He doesn't know where he is. What the hell is he wearing? )

Is there anybody there?

( oo3. )

( It is a truth universally acknowledged that an Xavier in want of a drink will find their way to the nearest bar. He's propped up at the counter, uncaring about the taste of whatever he's drinking. There's a headache blooming behind his eyes and hysteria threatening to spill beyond his chest, and so the only course of action is to have a bloody drink.

Every so often he pushes his hair - he has so much of it and it's so grossly seventies - out of his eyes, or sighs like the world has ended. If he drinks enough, then he'll be able to forget that he's on a fucking space station, that his oldest friend and enemy has shot his bloody sister, and that presumably his world is about to go to war. Again. )

Pass us another bottle, will you?

( He's fine, it's fine. )

( oo4. )

( He's no stranger to calamity. Hell, he's lived enough of it. But when the hall seems to explode around him, Charles allows himself a second of fear. It's not that he's worrying about dying ( because what's the point ) but his legs go out from under him and the swoop in his stomach is enough.

No, not again.

But the floors shake and the walls spark and he may be somewhat depressed ( okay, definitely ) but he's not an absolute idiot and so he's scrambling back to his feet and there's nothing.

Nothing has happened.

Instinctively his fingers fly to his temple, straining against the chemical walls around his powers. Was that a vision? An hallucination? Is he going mad? )

Fuck. Fucking fuckitty fuck.

( Professor Charles Xavier indeed. )

( ooc. )

( okay this is obviously days of future past charles. he's not in a wheelchair right now, because of the serum but as time progresses that will wear off. he looks super gross, i'm sorry. grunge dad. i'm at athosing if you want to discuss anything. )

03 drunk in space

[raverie]

[ Of all the things to find aboard this mysterious floating spacecraft, a bar. Sonya's in survival mode, so she thinks...maybe the alcohol could be used to sterilize. Doesn't know what needs sterilizing yet, but that's not the point. She creeps (as much as anyone can creep in magnetic boots) in to raid the bottle stash, softly gasping when the man at the bar addresses her.

She didn't see him. He's blending into his surroundings rather effectively, which is not to say he looks like a pile of garbage but. You know. ]

You're just drinking it?

[ It could be poisoned. Or for aliens. ]

SONYA!!!

[mentis]

( He does look like a pile of garbage but thankfully, he can't hear her thinking it. )

Why not?

( He leans across the bartop, magboots on the rung of his stool to pilfer another bottle of ambiguous origin. Charles unscrews it without care, sniffs at it once, before taking a neat glug. )

Kill or cure, isn't that the saying?

so excited to play with the xcu a-listers!!!

[raverie]

[ She's not a judgmental person by nature, so it's more concern than total disbelief at seeing him help himself. ]

Those two things are pretty far apart, don't you think?

[ For a 50/50 shot, anyway. She ducks behind the bar to start inspecting bottles. Taking her rightful place as resident agony aunt/bartender, maybe. ]

Do you live here? [ Not to further insult, but he kind of looks like the kind of person who would live on an abandoned space station. Maybe. She wipes the counter with the palm of her hand, absently cleaning, then frowns at it. ] Do you know if... This is a Trask facility?

[ Super casual. Like you do. ]

i play clarice in a different game so i'm super glad to see a sonya

[mentis]

( He doesn't seem all that concerned with making friends. At least not with women who want to clear the bar rather than help him drink it dry. In fairness, he's sure she's lovely. He's just had a very bad day, and now he wants to get drunk enough that when he wakes up again all of this won't have happened.

But then she mentions Trask, and well --. )

Do you work for him?

( His tone is sharp, suddenly. Angry. If he had his powers he could have used them, assured himself. But he doesn't, and he can't. )

( oo4. )

[magneticfields]

[ Ever since the incident with the gravity rings, Erik has been on-edge. He never was totally sure about the stability of the station and the durability of all its systems, but to have the fragility of it all put in such stark relief has shaken him. As soon as the walls start shaking he lifts up, doing his best to not be tossed but the sudden shifts of gravity send him spinning and slamming into the walls and floor anyway.

It takes him a moment to rise to his feet. He's not a young man anymore, and he groans quietly as he tries to take stock of the damage. Of which there is none. To the station, anyway. And only superficial damage to himself, at least.

He goes still when he hears the all-too-familiar voice cursing up a storm. ]

Charles?

[ He looks up to see his friend with far more hair and far less wheelchair than when he last saw him. ]

Shit.

[mentis]

( Did he conjure him up out of a nightmare? No. No, because of course Erik is here. Charles' gaze flicks wildly from Erik's face to the scar on his throat, not quite obscured by the hideous jumpsuit they're both wearing. When did he get it? Was it there before? Why does he care as much as he does?

Anger is familiar, but even so it makes him sway on his feet. It's so strong, too strong.

( And yet, it's nothing compared to the ridiculous relief he feels. )

Instead of giving voice to either, Charles takes the short distance between them in strides, gripping Erik by the front of his suit and shoving him against the nearest wall. He's taller than Charles, but he makes up for it in impotent fury, voice rising too high. )

You shot my sister. We were supposed to help her!

[magneticfields]

[ It's been some time since Charles has been quite this angry with him. At least not when he is there and actually has to deal with it in person (sorry, Hank*). Erik is taken so off-guard he finds himself scrambling backwards as Charles approaches him. And isn't quite sure what to do with his hands once Charles has him pinned against the wall.

(Damn this would be easier if it weren't so hot.)

He isn't really interested in going over the same argument from ten years ago but it seems that's what's going to happen no matter what he wants. He takes a deep breath and pushes off the wall, leveraging his greater height in an attempt to force Charles to take a step back. ]

We were supposed to fix the future. That's what I was trying to do.

[ *Not really. ]

[mentis]

How?

( It's practically a snarl. If Charles were feeling better, if he were less hurt, less angry, he'd take stock in the lines around Erik's eyes, the age that's settled on him like a shroud. But he isn't, and his old friend is a convenient vent for his frustrations.

His footsteps are clumsy as Erik pushes him back, but that doesn't stop him from rounding his shoulders, feeding the fire stoked under his skin. )

How was that any better, Erik? We could have defended her together, but oh no, you shoot first ask questions later. Did you want to make it a matching set?

( It feels ugly, but he's been feeling ugly since Cuba. )

3. you made me do this... ;;

[personify]

[Along the other edge of the bar top, a woman is sitting. A plain girl, not much to look at. Which is the point. Raven wants to be left alone to her thoughts. Hiding herself is preferable to inane questions or pointless flirting. She's also caught sight of Erik here on this station and she very much wants to avoid him. Her bullet wound's been treated, but it's far from healed. The dull ache pulses in her thigh. She still walks with that obvious limp, giving herself away with every step.

She doesn't want help. Raven simply wants to wallow. Nothing makes sense to her anymore. And she feels very much alone, especially after having been dragged out here into the middle of space of all places.

That loneliness doesn't fade when she sees him there, sitting across the bar. Charles. He looks like shit. Not that she's in much of a place to judge with how drunk she is already. Perhaps drinking alcohol with the space pain killers hadn't been her brightest of ideas.

She doesn't say anything too him, instead she's staring. Brown eyes burning a hole into Charles' skull. Not exactly the subtly a more sober Mystique would have been capable of.]

CACKLES WHILE CRYING. CRACKLES.

[mentis]

( Someone is watching him. Charles doesn't need telepathy to be able to feel the gaze drilling holes in the back of his skull. He isn't in the mood to deal with it, honestly. Not right now. Not ever.

All he can think about is Logan's terror, how relieved Raven had sounded before her fear had taken over, how Erik, always Erik seemed to make him hurt. And so he drinks, while Jane Doe stares at him, and he keeps drinking, until he makes an ugly exasperated sound and finally rolls his gaze towards her. )

I'm not interested.

( Kindly fuck off. Stop drinking. He needs that alcohol. )

[personify]

[Those eyes impossibly narrow. He doesn't know it's her. He's not read her mind.

That seems to be his go to move with most everyone, she thinks with a bristle. So why not now? Perhaps that's not fair, but she's drunk and angry. Reason's got very little to do with it. Raven snarls a bit before taking a sip of her drink and slamming it a touch too hard onto the table.

She's not going to let on who she is, not really wanting him to know- not ready for it. Instead, all she wants to do is rage. It's not even about him, really. Not this time.] That's new. Not blonde and idiot enough for you?

[mentis]

( Oh.

So he's offended her. Charles feels the briefest flicker of shame - be polite, be courteous, be kind - before it's swallowed up by something else. Bitterness. Panic. Agony. He snorts, taking another sip of his drink, practically ignoring the girl. Even when he speaks, he doesn't look at her. )

Mm. Funny. But you're right. You're definitely not what I'm looking for right now.

( His life is spiralling out of control and he doesn't know what's happening. Is Raven okay? Christ. )

I just came here to drink.

004; vague canon point for now but he's pasty, not blue.

[bestials]

[ Hank knows that swearing. He knows it intimately, and as worrying as it is to hear it, he's relieved by the implication that he's not here all alone.

He rushes towards the sound. ] Charles? Charles! Everything okay?

[mentis]

Hank.

( Oh, but there's genuine relief in his voice when he hears his friend calling his name. He's quick to rush to Hank, and if the hand on his shoulder lingers out of fear, then he's sure neither of them will mention it. )

Thank God, I thought I'd be the only one.

( Two scientists. They'll figure it out. )

Did you feel that just then?

[bestials]

There are others here-- I don't know if any of them are mutants, but... [ The obvious implication being that their x-gene had been the reason they've both been kidnapped.

The next thing Charles says is more worrying, however. ]

Feel what just when? Charles, you're not making any sense.

( oo3 )

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ It's been a while since Rogue availed herself of the bar, but after her recent death and ensuing loss of sight, she's in desperate need of a drink or twelve. The walk to the bar is slow and steady, her sight returning just as slowly and offering her a blurry outline of her surroundings, but at least she can see. That absolute darkness had been... shattering.

Stepping into the bar, she makes a beeline for the counter, reaching for the first bottle that comes into fuzzy view and taking little note of the man seated there--

Until he speaks. That voice. She can't make out his features clearly, but she'd know that voice anywhere, even if the one she'd grown up hearing had been of a slightly different timbre. Her hand falters, missing the bottle on first try, and when she does grasp it, her grip is firmer than it needs to be. But onto the counter it goes, her eyes struggling to focus on his face. ]

Charles? [ The name slips out before she can think properly, soft and... something close to frightened. ]

[mentis]

( He only has to look at her to realise there's something wrong with her sight. He notices the way she's not quite focusing, able to discern enough to get by but little else. And so he's already reaching for a glass for her, half concerned he should help her onto a stool even though he hated when people interfered with the chair, when she says his name.

His thoughts screech to a halt and there's a beat of silence before he clears his throat. )

That's me. I'm sorry, do we know each other?

( He doesn't think she's one of his old students, nor one of the parents. But in all honestly, he's been in a bit of a haze as of late. It's possible they've met. )

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ That confirmation leaves her in a state of panic, some of which might show in her expression as she frantically tries to strengthen her weak mental shielding. Years of working with the telepath on an almost daily basis had taught her how to build a complex mental structure to keep her thoughts private and psyches well-contained, but recent events have left those shields splintered and cracking under the weight of her own emotions. If he catches wind of what she's been through, if he tells anyone-- ]

Yes. Maybe. What-- What year was it for you?

[ He sounds so young, perhaps he's like Erik, or maybe he's from an entirely different timeline. Why won't her eyes focus and let her properly see him?! ]

3

[oorah]

[ frank isn't much of a bartender but he does his best anyway. there's a big brown dog behind the bar but he's almost as quiet as his master - the loudest noise from him is when he lazily flops over and the metal plate on his collar clinks off the grating of the floor. he nods his acknowledgment to charles' words and rather than speaking up, merely places a glass in front of the man and uncaps the bottle he indicated, pouring until he's told to stop. this has become a ritual for him, overflowing the glass of a newbie. he's taken time to perfect his pour too in the low gravity so that the liquor arcs slightly through the air before splashing in neatly. ]

[mentis]

( He'd briefly entertained the possibility that said dog was an hallucination, because honestly who brings a dog to space? They don't make space suits that small or in that size. But no, it's very much a real dog doing real dog things. Charles watches it as the man behind the bar fills his drink, and then he murmurs something that might be thanks and might just be a noise of relief.

Charles' hands tremble a little, when he lifts the glass. If he drinks enough perhaps that too will ease.

After a few swallows, he finally clears his throat, lifting a heavy gaze to his companion. He looks more like a bare knuckle fighter than a bartender. )

That looks nasty.

( Indicating his shiner. )

[oorah]

[ frank assesses charles slowly, from his quaking hands to the way he watches max. but he makes it seem like a casual observation even as he leans away from the bar a little to watch the other man drink. ]

I've had worse. [ which he doesn't think will surprise the other man, especially not with his AK-47 scar showing from just under the collar of his jumpsuit. there are only so many ways to pass the time in space, pal. ]

004

[backwaterbelle]

[Rogue has no desire for a space drink, not with everything still so unknown and in flux, but she knows a few of her people that she'd likely find in a bar. Logan, for one, would be a sight for sore eyes, so she heads that way.

Except midway down a hallway, the mutant's thrown heavily against a wall with a grunt. She steadies herself and forgoes the stabilization that hovering off the ground would provide. Best not to draw attention to herself in that manner, though the fact that the grating only busts up her clothing might do that.

That being said, her eyes locked on Charles the moment he brought his fingers to his temple. It's a gesture that practically paints 'telepath' on his brow line. She doesn't recognize him, but she recognizes that movement.

Her eyebrows lift at his eloquent words, and while she's worried about the shaking, the prospect of finding another mutant took precedence.]

You pick up on anythin'?

[mentis]

( Unfortunately for them both, the movement was a reflex he's yet to wean himself from. He has no power to speak off, and for a moment he simply looks angry. With himself, with this situation, with everything that has gone wrong in his pitiful life up to this point.

Her voice breaks him out from those thoughts, and while his expression doesn't soften, it does turn quizzical. His hand drops to his side, clenching into a fist. )

I'm sorry?

( Better to pretend he doesn't know what she means. )

[backwaterbelle]

[She watches his reaction, eyes following his hand as it falls and then betrays his agitation, and Rogue doesn't need telepathy to identify that. The cause, however, remains a bit murky.

Subtlety lost, the other mutant shrugs a shoulder and mimics the motion with her own gloved hand.]

Ah got friends who do the same thing when they're focusin'