dankmemes | Test Drive Meme #8

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!test drive

Test Drive Meme #8

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open April 24th, and apps are open May 1st.

Two quick points here as well:
1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: DEAD FLESH BUFFET
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to swarm around you and chow down. This time, the Door has brought in a group of rotfiends, from the video game The Witcher.

These unpleasant-looking creatures are necrophages, meaning they feed on the flesh of the dead, and if that flesh is in short supply they are happy to add to it. Normally found in groups, they are fast and difficult to corner. What's more, when on the verge of death, they have an annoying tendency to explode into a flammable cloud of poisonous toxins. You left your torch at home, right?]

R A G E
SCENARIO TWO: MMM WHATCHA SAY
[There you were, just walking along the street, minding your own business like a good underground hell-city citizen, when all of a sudden you saw someone. It was like love at first sight - if by 'love' you mean 'deep burning hatred'. You've never wanted to kill someone so much, and why? Well, you're not really sure, but there's probably a reason! You'll just have to figure it out. Or not. Who needs a reason for murder, anyway?

Or maybe you're the one someone else has targeted. Maybe you know they're after you and you're desperately trying to watch your back. Why do they hate you? You don't even know them. Or maybe you do, maybe they're your best friend. Either way, this is a super awkward situation, and someone might end up dead. Hopefully not you!

This is a mini version of our Assassin event this month!]

H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: SCRATCH OFF
[This morning, you received a scratch ticket in the mail (who knew Hadriel even had mail?), addressed to you. The instructions are clear enough - scratch off three matching icons, and you win a prize! Sure, okay. But here's the grand prize: a one-way ticket home.

Unfortunately, try as you might, you aren't gonna win that one, but keep hoping! And hey, just think of all the other GREAT PRIZES you could win: an inflatable duck, a plastic ring to give your sweetheart, an empty can of Red Bull, a cell phone charm shaped like a strange green creature with a boner.

So what if you didn't win that ticket home? You got something almost as good: a shitty prize! Thanks, Hope!]

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Ai merely raises an eyebrow at him in return. The way he's looking at her she gets the impression he's used to having his instructions veing followed without question. Unfortunately for him she tends to question most things where people are concerned. They always have so many tricky little motives egging them on.

"I highly doubt you care one way or the other, we just met." But fine she'll climb the stupid mess of rusty metal. She wraps her fingers around a rung and feels the rust crunch under her fingers. Ick.

"Don't look up my skirt." She demands it, not that she really thinks he would he doesn't look like he'd let the tiny possibility distract him from staying alive, but she figures she'll say it just in case.

"For the -"

Good job, Ai, this is Mello dragging one gloved hand down his face. You are causing him actual pain; are you happy? "I'm not going to look up your skirt. Get moving." He doesn't wait long to follow after her, still clutching the length of metal pipe in one hand.

Ai just raises a carefully plucked eyebrow at the narrowly cut off oath and smiles at him sweetly. She might actually be trying to cause him pain here. He wasn't exactly nice from the first now was he? She shrugs a shoulder with a tiny sigh and starts climbing.

"Oh by the way engraved invitations really aren't things, they're usually embossed if they're anything more fancy than using calligraphy and expensive stationary."

This girl is going to be nothing but a headache - Mello can already feel it coming on, a throbbing pain directly behind his temple.

"I'm sure they don't hand out invitations of any kind here, except for an invitation to die a horrible bloody death. I'm not especially eager to find out - move."

Was there ever any doubt about that before that moment? She is going to cause a spectacular headache and while it wasn't intentional he can be she will enjoy being the cause. Savor it even given his attitude.

"Tell me to move again and I'm kicking you in the face." But she does climb up the rungs until she comes out on the first landing. Worrying her lower lip she doesn't wait for the scarred jerk to give yet another imperious command and moves toward the stairs to the next floor.

It's a good thing she keeps moving, because Mello is decidedly not amused by her backtalk, gritting his teeth as he continues to climb upward.

"I'm going to say this once and only once," he says as he reaches the landing and grasps for the next set of rungs. "If you try kicking me in the face - no, if you so much as threaten me again, you will regret it." There's a stone-cold seriousness in his tone, a note of danger, something to indicate that he is far from joking. "At the end of the day, it makes no difference to me whether an empty-headed girl like yourself survives being attacked by whatever those monsters are, and if you're so determined to give them all an easy meal, I'm certainly not going to stop you. So you can either listen to what I say and recognize that it's in your best interest to follow my directions, or you can go get yourself killed and stop taking up space. The choice is entirely up to you."

Then he's going to have to settle for not being amused for a long time because there's plenty more where that comes from. There's just something about his general attitude that makes her want to frustrate him.

She stops at the next landing shifting so she's sitting with her legs danging in the opening by the ladder. She's not tired, she wants to be very clear when she answers. Her expression hard as her fingers curl into the grate. "Let's get this very clear, don't boss me I don't threaten you and I won't kick you." She's frowning as she finishes, Ai would love to give him a good swift kick in the pants. He's a jerk of epic proportions.

"I'm normal, not stupid. I have just as much of a survival instinct as you do. And I have more than enough experience to deal with people like you."

Mello is a jerk, but unfortunately, he's also often right, and in his mind, that's the more important thing. What's more, he's not about to be cowed by some teenager who looks like she would rather be at a shopping mall. This guy once scared a shinigami; high school girls are nothing.

He steps in close, right up in her personal space, pipe still held loosely in hand, clanging against the metal of the walkway as he steps forward. "I'd wager you've never met people like me before," he says, punctuating his statement with a thin, grim smile. "And if you had even a shred of survival instinct, you'd still be moving instead of sitting here arguing about how experienced you are."

He's right about that much, she would much rather be trawling the mall than in cave hell. But she doesn't find him altogether that scary. That's either a huge mistake on her part or incredibly brave. At least part of it was her being supremely stupid, but such was the way with teenagers wasn't it.

Oh honey you're going to have to try harder than to intimidate her. She uses the same getting up close and personal tactics herself back home. And the extra height he has on her isn't about to make her cower in fear. "Egotistical jerks are pretty much the same no matter where you're from." Some things just aren't bound to a single world.

Ai sighs heavily, "I wouldn't have to argue if you weren't so set on treating me like I have a brain injury. I don't like you and you clearly don't like me, so why did you bother helping me to start with. You don't seem like someone that would put your neck out like that."

Sticks and stones, Ai; Mello's been called far worse that egotistical jerk. The insult barely makes him blink.

She does raise an interesting point, though - he isn't a do-good type, not in the traditional sense. Why is he bothering with this, then?

"Suit yourself," he says, with a light shrug. He hasn't really answered her question, but he doesn't exactly owe her an answer, either, does he. "Just get out of my way."

He's only proving her point.

Ai sputters and doesn't move. For all the venom she'd spewed Mello's way, she doesn't want to be alone. Not here. Not even at home. But he's such a jerk it's making it really difficult for her to stick to the plan to treat people better.

"I didn't say I wanted you to leave. I just asked a question." Don't make her grab and cling, she really doesn't want to cling to him if she can avoid it. She might catch his douchebaggery.

This situation is just increasingly stupid. Mello huffs an exhaled breath and turns to pace back to the opposite side of the railing, leaning back against it in a deceptively lazy posture. Pipe tucked under one arm, he reaches into his inside jacket pocket, produces a bar of chocolate, unwraps the end, and bites off a corner with a satisfying snap. He takes his time chewing, studying the girl with a close eye, and replaces the chocolate inside his jacket pocket.

"I don't really care who you are, or who you think you are," he says, calmly, evenly. "I don't have the time or patience for games. This back and forth act may go over well with the boys back wherever you're from, but I'm not impressed. In case it escaped your notice, we are both in a dangerous situation here." He picks up the length of pipe from under his arm, gives it an experimental twirl in his hand. "Now, I'm not obligated to keep you out of harm's way, but I've chosen to offer my help. You can either accept it or go fend for yourself, but either way, you need to stop wasting my time."

He pulls his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so he can level a dead serious stare at her over the top of the frames. "Do we have an understanding?"

Well that's refreshing for all of five seconds. Not. She half expected Mello to take off on her. The fact that he didn't is actually a surprise. He was very clear about how little he cared one way or another already. Which is new in it's own way too. As much as she doesn't want him to be, the boy is actually semi interesting (he'd be more interesting if he were just the tiniest bit less of an ass).

Ai merely tilts her head and with a creak from the metal stands and brushes off her skirt. "I'm Ebihara Ai." She says it like she's introducing herself before a new set of classmates, she even gives him a tiny half bow though it's more out of habit than any actual sign of respect or politeness. Her name isn't famous unless you've read the newspapers in the last few years. And even then it would only be her surname. It was a big story the way her father suddenly struck it rich. And something of a coup in her previous town.

But if he's expecting her to be cowed simply because he's staring at her like he could melt her with his thoughts he's really been paying very poor attention. "We do if you're going to at least attempt to remember I have a brain of my own."

"I'll remember it if you act like it, Ebihara." Her name means nothing to him, but he's dealt with enough Japanese to recognize how she introduces herself. Mello pushes his sunglasses back up onto his face and stands up from the railing. "You can call me Mello."

It's not that he particularly cares about custom or social niceties, but if they're going to be stuck together for the time being, he can at least pretend to care, and that pretending-to-care takes the form of a reciprocal introduction. Mello doesn't carry the same weight it used to, with a reputation for being ruthless and determined to reach his goals, despite the odds or costs. He built that name up for himself among the criminal underworld after he ceded the title as the next L to Near and left the House, used it to gain favor with the Mafia, used it to inspire fear in those who opposed him. Now though ... even if he weren't suddenly in some alien world, Kira had his real name, and the reputation he built on Mello got blown to bits with the last explosive he set off in the warehouse hideout back in November.

Not that this girl would know any of that anyway. Mello turns and looks out into the alley over the railing. The monsters haven't followed up after them - that's good. There's a few clustered on the ground beneath them, but either they haven't noticed the fire escape up or simply aren't capable of climbing it. Mello looks up, back to the rest of the fire escape, scanning the side of the building. One more flight up, and there's an open window. He points toward it.

"We can get inside there. They shouldn't be able to follow us."

"We'll see about that soon enough then." She only partially expected it to mean anything to him anyway. How many people actually bother to keep track of the people making their fortunes in land development anyway? It wasn't exactly as exciting as someone winning big while gambling. It got short term play and didn't come with the sort of drama that some stories did, there weren't any torrid affairs or threats of divorce for a younger woman. Her father just made their lives better.

"What are you a gangster?" Because that sounds like something a gangster would go by. Something quick and easy to roll off the tongue if needed but with that hint of mystery that promised danger. Could he pick a name that was anymore ridiculous for that matter. She's not offended he didn't give an actual name, with that sort of fashion sense she probably wouldn't gives her name out either. Bomber jackets and leather went out in like the 70's, why was he still wearing them. You know what she doesn't want to know she's just going to try not to cringe too much over his terrible taste in clothes.

She shrugs and slides past him and starts up the next flight of rickety stairs. "Let's go then."

Mello laughs under his breath - him, a gangster. It sounds so old-fashioned, conjuring up images of three-piece suits and tommy guns. "Not exactly," he says, and considers for a moment whether to say more on the subject. He doesn't owe her an explanation, and Mello was a name given to him before he ever left the House and embarked on a life of crime as a means toward his end of beating Near.

Ultimately, though, he decides on elaborating, because he estimates that if he doesn't, she'll just keep asking. "I used to work with the Mafia, though." With them, but not part of them - an important distinction. He was an outsider, even among his allies, above them, no ordinary criminal but an extraordinary one.

They were much easier to deal with than her, in a lot of ways. All it took was a showy display of ability and loyalty, and they easily accepted his leadership, taking his direction without question.

That's enough talk for now. Mello follows up the stairs after her and climbs in the open window, scanning the inside immediately for the layout and any possible dangers that may be lurking.

She could have asked if he was Yakuza? Would that have been better? And don't knock the three-piece suits, they look really good on the right person. She raises an eyebrow at him when he answers. He is aware that was really vague and completely unhelpful right?

He isn't wrong she would keep asking. It's the sort of comment that would grab her attention and make her want to know. You can't just dangle half information like that in front of her and expect her to leave it hanging so completely. It was like ignoring a piece of ripe fruit on a low hanging branch. It just wasn't something you did.

"So you were a hired thug." Someone clearly doesn't seem all that impressed with him at present. He could have just said he was a hired thug. Maybe he should have just left it at not exactly, at least the mystery would have been somewhat impressive.

So sorry she doesn't just lay down and take it. She doesn't know him and he hasn't done much to engender any form of trust, why should she just do what he says without question?

At the top of the stairs she hangs back. He's the one with the gun he may as well be the first to go through the window. When he doesn't end up screaming in pain Ai takes that to mean he's fine and it's safe for her climb through herself. All she sees when she does is peeling wallpaper and torn carpet. And more trash, bits of paper littering the floor. "Now what?"

The laugh that curls out of his mouth this time is audible. The idea of him being a hired thug is absurd. "Hardly," he says. "More like the other way around. I didn't hire them the way you're thinking, but they had what I wanted, and I made myself invaluable to them in return for what they could provide for me." He's more than capable of violence, and he had killed a man as a demonstration of his abilities. But the way she says hired thug sounds like he earns a paycheck by breaking kneecaps or something equally pedestrian. No, what Mello did for the Rod and his crew was provide guidance, ideas, strategies. His brain was far more valuable than any potential displays of brute force.

"Now," he says, "we make an analysis and devise a strategy." There isn't much of note inside the building - they seem to be alone, an idea reinforced by the abandoned state of the room they're in. Mello glances back over his shoulder at her. "Unless, of course, you have a better idea?" He's fairly certain she won't.

Maybe he should be more particular in his word choices then. There are so many ways that statement could be taken, how else was she supposed to take it. And her pout is all over her face. There's a sound she doesn't like hearing at her expense. She's heard it plenty of times to know it for what it is at first sound. But really that's exactly what she thinks. She hasn't seen anything yet that makes her think he's anymore than your average person with dreams of grandeur. "You seem pretty average for someone so invaluable." She's certain she'd be a lot more impressed with him if he were as important to the Mafia as he claims.

"We?" He's actually going to let her participate? Color her amazed considering every word and deed to this point. She wanders the room a moment, hands cupping her elbows as she goes, turning at the snide remark. "Hiding seems like a good idea for the moment." Fine Mello she'll let you wear the pants for the moment. She's selfish but she's not that selfish.

He almost laughs again at the idea of him seeming average to anyone. As if she could make an accurate assessment of his character based on their limited interaction thus far. Well, if that's what she wants to think, that's fine. Despite the facade he's constructed with the way he looks, people still tend to overlook and underestimate his abilities, and a lot of the time, being underestimated more than suits his purposes.

"Wise men don't wear nametags," he says, a note of amusement making its way into his tone. "The more people talk about their own skills, the more desperate they are. Their work should be able to speak for itself." Almost the exact words he'd written down mere days earlier, part of documenting a story L told him many years ago. Well - that's finished, and it's not what's currently important.

Satisfied that the room offers no immediate threat, Mello turns his back to one of the empty walls and slides to sit on the floor in a crouch. Rest isn't an entirely bad idea at this juncture. "We won't be able to hide forever," he says, "but this place looks safe enough for now." He's confident he'll be able to cobble together a plan from here.

He'd be surprised what hidden talents lie behind a pretty face like hers. She might not be genius levels of intelligent but she has common sense enough to keep her alive. And she's developed certain skills over the years in order to keep herself safe and emotionally intact. One of them is developing a quick and usually pretty accurate idea of anyone over the course of a conversation. So far he is not scoring well.

"I'm reserving judgment on the wise part here." She doesn't believe you and she also doesn't have any examples of his own work to judge from. All she has is the now and so far he's been rude on top of demeaning on top of rude. Not exactly a pretty representation of himself he's painting here.

She finds a crate and flips it over to sit on and props her elbow on her knee as she drops her chin into her hand. And he thought she'd have nothing of value to offer. "You don't get anywhere by hiding long term." She did that for so long and things only go worse. Hiding was meant to allow her to process and sort through what's happened so far. Catch her breath and put things in their appropriate boxes rather than react rashly and do something she might regret. Because Mello definitely isn't Yu and if he's willing to threaten her with a gun he isn't about to go running after her if she runs off all pissed off. "I'm so glad to hear you approve."

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Test Drive Meme #8

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