returnjourneymemes | TEST DRIVE 002

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test drive meme

TEST DRIVE 002

RETURN JOURNEY: TEST DRIVE 002

Welcome to the Return Journey's test drive meme! We appreciate your interest. Our TDM features a small sample of events your character might encounter in game, which you're free to embellish or improvise with your own ideas as desired. Don't worry if you haven't read everything yet; while we recommend skimming our FAQ for relevant questions, critical information should be contained or linked within the prompts themselves!

TDM threads can be used as samples for applications. Players can mutually keep threads as game canon after being accepted into the game, though threads featuring non-canon squalls or events may need to be adjusted.

We suggest putting your character's name, canon, and potential role (warden or inmate) as the subject. If you're not sure which role you want to choose, feel free to try your hand at both!

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask here.

1. Welcome Aboard!

Welcome aboard the SFS Peregrine, a ship in the Admiralty's Transformative and Penal Reparation Fleet. It is presently circling the outer perimeter of the Oos Ring Galaxy.

Wardens have been approached personally by the Navarch with a job offer: Come aboard the SFS Peregrine to assist in the redemption of an inmate, and receive a miracle known as a windfall as payment. Even if you don't ask as many questions as you should, every warden will be treated to a short Warden Orientation video explaining their expected duties and conduct.

Inmates have died and been placed aboard the SFS Peregrine as candidates for reformation. You may have come willingly, offered a choice between death or redemption, or you may have been collected against your will. Inmates are also treated to an Inmate Orientation; you'll find you have less privileges than a warden, but more motivation for...latitude. Violence? Chaos? Bribery? Blackmail? Well, no one said the path to redemption was without a few bumps along the way.

Given staff shortages, some wardens may be asked for a favor. Rather than leaving directly for the Peregrine, you've been asked to pick up an inmate from the limbo between death and redemption. During this mission, wardens will have clearance to enter a snapshot of sorts, where the inmate died (so devoid of other living beings). You either have to talk them into willingly coming along...or bring their unconscious, fresh-from-death not-corpse with you in the Avro provided. Better hope they don't wake up on the way!

Inmates, in this case, you'll be presented with the choice of death or redemption from a warden rather than the Navarch. Or possibly not provided with a choice at all, if death has rendered you unconscious. Good luck when you awaken to find yourself in a small ship, with someone you've never met. Try not to cause any trouble.

2. Pairings

Pairings are a critical aspect of the dynamic between warden and inmate. While interactions between wardens and inmates are not restricted to those in pairings, this relationship is a bit more...inescapable. Inmates test the limits of a warden, whether they take a more typical or unusual approach to matters; likewise, wardens learn what makes an inmate tick (and hopefully cooperate). Chances are, your values will clash.

A pairing of any sort is as varied as the individuals involved in them. And today, courtesy of the Navarch's monthly announcement, you and your sorry partner have been paired. Temporary or permanent, with a warden for an inmate or an inmate for a warden, it's your first day together — out of at least a month, so good luck setting some ground rules and figuring out each other's breaking points.

3. Life on the Peregrine

Hey, inmates! Ever gone to summer camp? Had a sibling? If so, you might see where this is going. If not, welcome to your first experience with shared sleeping arrangements!

The dorms are lined with bunks, though maybe they're better described as pods: futuresque capsules stacked two high, with sleek white paneling and cool blue LED lightning. Each bunk can be closed off with a sliding door privacy and boasts a bladeless fan for temperature control. Bedding is adequate. If such modest conditions do not appeal to you: consider not committing crimes against other people.

And just like with siblings or summer camp, you don't get a say in who your bunkmate is. Maybe you'll luck out and get a light sleeper who doesn't toss and turn in the night. Maybe you won't, and you'll end up with someone who will kill you if you snore. Whoever you get is who you're stuck with until further notice!

Wardens get much more hospitable quarters, but they may want to keep an eye out on the inmate dorms. Just in case an inmate does try to kill their bunkmate.

4. Squalls

Occasionally, the ship passes through squalls, the equivalent of cosmic turbulence that can mess with little things like, say...the fabric of reality. These are shipwide effects, though who they hit is variable. Sometimes you might fall victim; other times you might be the one standing by, exasperated, as you deal with those affected.

(In other words, it's up to player discretion. And feel free to make up your own squalls!)

This time around, the squall comes with an interesting side effect: whenever you lie or someone lies to you, you experience an immediate rush of anger — whether you consciously know someone is lying or not. Think of it as a temporary lie detector, but instead of being hooked up to a machine, you might punch someone in the face.

5. The Peregrine

The Peregrine's layout and protocols have been designed with its intended passengers in mind, who are primarily Earth humanoids and inclined towards certain social and cultural practices. If you're wondering why you are on a ship of Earth humanoids despite not being one yourself, please understand that all ships in the Admiralty have a population capacity. At times it may be necessary to assign other species to a ship of this type, based on availability.

As a warden, you have full run of the ship map. Inmates...less so, but that's nothing a little creativity can't fix, right? Just remember, if a warden catches an inmate somewhere that inmate shouldn't be, it falls on the warden to handle the matter. And if the warden turns a blind eye...well, let's hope neither of you get caught. While it won't result in anything as extreme as a demotion, wardens can expect to get a stern dressing down; inmates, meanwhile, will be reprimanded by the warden who found them.

6. Networking

Now that you've powered on your CommLink for the first time and sat through the short tutorial and appropriate orientation, you're ready to explore the wonders of messaging. Video, audio, or text, the world is your oyster and you surely have opinions on it.

There is no anonymous option and IDs must be some variation of your name. (IC, characters will have to try their luck and see what the communicator will or won't accept when they register; OOC, it's up to players to decide what name to use if the character has multiple names or aliases.)

Wardens have access to a group network filter, something that inmates lack, and can track inmates throughout the ship with their CommLink. Inmates, best avoid getting your device confiscated or monitored.

7. Wildcard

If it's in our game pages, you can use it as a prompt! The sky's the limit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. (DIS)ORIENTATION

[ You know what you did his perky, handsome ass. Timothy knows what Jack did, and he's ninety percent sure that's what this is all really about, because that's all anything is ever about. Still, let's make one thing perfectly clear: he's not really complaining about this? 'Specially since he's got reason to believe with comparable certainty that it hasn't even been two hours since he ate like, a hundred bullets courtesy of Pretty Boy's goons.

Probably shoulda guessed he'd go out that way. Mostly he did, but... well, somehow, you know, there was still the eensiest little sliver of dumb childlike hope left clinging to the walls of his beaten-down psyche that had been holding out for a miracle. The ending where he doesn't die trapped in a lawless space prison. The one where he walks out of the Handsome Jackpot with debts wiped clean and all his limbs intact, then hops on the first freighter that'll take him as far from the system as possible. Or maybe just back to Elpis, in case Moxxi's bar is still there—and since it's probably the only place left where the citizenry won't put lead through this face on sight. 'Course, Mad Moxxi'd probably put lead through his face on sight for them, but hey. There are way worse ways to go. He knows that now.

But nope. Space prison it is. And it turns out it's all that and one extra crapsack of chips he couldn't have predicted: that there is a place where people go after death to get judged for their moral bankruptcy, and it is so, so fitting for Jack's to have fallen squarely on the shoulders of someone else. Story of his friggin' life, Jack leaving a wake of destruction and misery everywhere he went. Timothy forced to drop to his knees and suck up the consequences.

Because, you know. That's what this is. That's what it's always been. When Timothy closes his eyes, he visualizes the mantra he's spent seven years scrawling on the walls of every safe hideout he's managed to keep for longer than a week:

YOU ARE NOT JACK.
YOU ARE MORE THAN YOUR FACE.
IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.

As the message over his CommLink wraps up its monologue about repairs and draws to a close, there's an empty moment where he just gazes ruefully down at his right hand. It is a sophisticated work of robotics, fully articulated and the warm cognac-brown color of a leather glove. And on the back, blazing in brazen gold: the bold letter H that designates him Hyperion property.

He feels eyes on him. When's the last time he exchanged words with another person, anyway? Two months ago? Three? He's not counting that couple of hours with Trent that one time because they didn't really end up exchanging words, if you catch his drift, if you're pickin' up what ol' Timothy's layin' down, hahahahaha oh god he's been so fucking alone for so long.

Quick, what is conversation again and how do you be cool and normal about it? ]

So! Let's hear some deets, cupcake. What're you in for?

[ Nailed it. ]

II. PEREGRINE LYFE

[ Okay, but so... here's the thing about New Space Prison. It's a staggering improvement after Old Space Prison. It's a heckuva lot quieter, for one thing. Food seems to be in steady supply. Nobody trying to tear him limb from limb. Aaaand that's actually kind of the problem.

Cuz, see, rationally speaking, if the Navarch or whatever is all about making people serve time for their crimes, there's no way he's here and Jack's not, Jack's the single worst person Tim can think of, ergo, there's a non-zero chance that he's been brought to this ship as a result of some kind of cosmic bureaucratic mix-up or something. Which means Jack's crimes would effectively be his on paper, even if they're totally not

( IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT. )

which would mean it's actually not in his best interest to go around implying otherwise. Because then they might be like ohhh snap we got the wrong one, my bad! and send him right back where he came from, and he... he just...

( YOU WILL NOT DIE HERE. )

He can't go back there. Like, please, he just. He can't anymore. ]

Hey, so is it a little bit screwed up that I kind of love it in here? Because I actually kinda love it in here! I think!

[ Timothy's voice issues from inside the boring little sleeping pod he's been assigned to, out of which his denim-covered legs dangle in a careless splay over the opening of the bunk below. Sorry, everybody else, but especially that person. ]

Little bit cramped, but I meannn... my last bed was a buncha broken Digby Vermouth albums and old pizza boxes, [ anxious laugh! ] soooo...! [ goofy voice! ] Long as nobody here's a fan of murdering people in their sleep, it oughta be fine.

[ Beat. ]

Uh, is anybody here a fan of that? Sleep-murder? No? Sorry, definitely should've asked earlier.

III. WILDCARD

( come at me bro!! discord @ tevinter#3439 or plurk @ piasora. )

[ Rhys had done a really good job up until this moment to Not Think About it. To thoroughly reject and deflects any attempts to Go There. What happened with Jack was done and buried, a shitty part of his life that he'd only dwell on in the abstract from here on out, like a bad dream that you got a couple decent ideas out of.

That all comes apart the instant Rhys sees that face.

There's no word for this feeling. Ice in his veins, stomach in free fall, floor suddenly unsteady beneath his feet. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there gawking but it's been long enough for Jack to notice him and that...that's bad. ]

No...No no no. No!

[ He doesn't even realize he's talking at first, just backing up, eyes trained on Jack like he's a wild animal that'll lunge for him if he makes break for it. ]

[ So Tim's no stranger to the sight of terror and revulsion in people's eyes. Sometimes he even knows the reason for it. Sometimes he is the reason for it. Kinda feels really not great thinking about that piece, so let's forget about that for now. There's a guy Tim's never seen before apparently losing his complete shit at the other end of the mess hall, and he's got absolutely no idea why. He could try and guess, but, well, Jack has a reliable way of punishing his curiosity even when he's not around to witness it.

Tim's so tired of this. ]

Uhhhhhh... sup, kiddo?

[ In for a penny or some shit. It's fine, the guy's unarmed and like 90 pounds. ]

[ In the myraid of emotions and physical sensations that Rhys is going through right now, there actually is one feeling that he can put a name on: utter disbelief.

He remembers reading about this kinda stuff on the old ships networks, bouts of what sounded like mass hallucinations. Maybe this was something like that. Maybe it was like the turbulence last month, a leak in the shield causing you to see completely whack shit.

Whatever it is, Rhys doesn't want to deep dive into the inner workings of it. He is fine with not knowing, forever.

Addressed to the room, in general: ]

If this is someone's idea of a joke, it uh- it isn't funny! Okay?! E-extremely uncool!

[ He backs up further, his robotic hand outstretched like it's a threat, or like it'll somehow defend him and deter Jack. ]

Stay the fuck back- huagh!

[ He lets out a startled, strangled noise as his back hits the wall that was closest to him, a solid 18 feet from the door to his right and his only chance of escaping with his insides staying inside. This is bad. Oooh this is bad. ]

[ Tim is still chewing on the end of a gluten-free(?) churro(?) as a strange twink has an absolute meltdown nearby. Cool hand, though. Tim wonders if the dude came by his voluntarily, or if at some point Jack developed a new hobby that he never knew about.

Just for funsies, Tim feints a little lunge just to see if he can actually manage to chase the guy out of the room. Granted, he's seemingly been in the process of fleeing since his odd eyes first alighted on Tim and immediately began flitting around for an exit, but Tim chooses to believe he's just that psychically imposing—and that feeling is a really satisfying departure from all his years spent scurrying around, fearful, small, pathetic, like a ratch trying not to get squashed.

With a snicker, he turns his attention back to his CommLink. ]

Mmmkay good talk, smell ya later, kiddo!

[ At the sound of his own voice, Tim also becomes aware of his face—how the grin on it feels ugly, unkind. ]

Ugh, son of a bastard...

[ Timothy stands with a heavy sigh and strides from the Mess into the adjacent hallway. ]

Sorry, sorry, look, I–I dunno what got into me, but would you slow down for a second? I'm not Jack, if that's why you're freaking the hell out all of a sudden.

[ Rhys gives a full body flinch in response to Jack's fake out, but that initial prey-driven fear is starting to ebb a little and be replaced by annoyance and anger. Someone is fucking with him, and being repeatedly called "kiddo" is only compounding those feelings. ]

Don't kiddo me I-

[ Then something happens, something wholly unexpected. A shift in Jack's demeanor that's wholly un-Jack like, followed by him saying as much.

Not for the first time, he wishes his echo eyes scanning function wasn't disabled in this place. If he had it, he could get a proper read on this guy and see just exactly what and who he was, if he was the real deal or something else. ]

What the fuck is going on?? Am I getting hazed cause that...that did not go well for me in college- Hey, I said stay back!

[ Okay, but this is interesting, kinda. All things considered, it took the patrons of the Jackpot a surprisingly long time to turn on their handsome hosts, which Tim attributes to Jack's many-faceted reputation. At minimum, people saw Jack as the new big thing in the corporate sphere; the hotshot new CEO that everyone wanted a piece of. For those from Elpis, or familiar with Elpis, he was nothing short of a savior. A ruthless businessman. A clever engineer. A sex symbol. A benevolent dictator. A hero. A complete fucking psychopath.

What do all these roles have in common? They command a certain level of deference, for better or for worse. Deference Timothy's not actually picking up in the way this man speaks to him. Fear, sure, yeah, but that's not really much of a shocker. Jack loved being feared more than he loved... well, most things.

Sometimes Tim feels a little sad that he'll never get to tell him what an asshole he was. ]

Fine, jeez, chill!

[ Still on a hair-trigger after a decade of being shot at with little to no provocation, Tim's hands raise in kneejerk deference of his own as he pauses his slow, careful advance.

Now that he's able to get a good look at the guy, the discolored eye stands out and Tim sees it for the tech it is. And he's got a feeling about it. Just a wild off-the-cuff theory marinating away in the old melon here. ]

Wouldn't be the first time Jack's personally swirlied a nerd, but nah... no hazing here. That I'm, you know, aware of. Name's Timothy. Or, pronounced another way, not Jack.

[ Like Jack would be caught dead with this fucked up mask, for one thing. Say, when he died, did it fuck up his mask? Ooh, satisfying thought. ]

Your turn. Oh, wa-wait no, hold on, don't spoil it for me, let me try to guess. Hyperion?

[ The idea doesn't like, totally make a part of him want to start hyperventilating or anything of that nature what are you talking about. ]

[ No....No. Nooooo sieree! Whatever the fuck this is, he's not buying it!

Maybe all the wetware shoved inside his skull is finally malfunctioning cause Rhys cannot compute or keep tack of what's happening here. Before him stands a man who looks like Jack, sounds like Jack, talks like Jack but also isn't Jack, he's-

Rhys lets out a laugh that sounds like it's being strangled out of him. ]

Timothy??? You're not Jack, you're Timothy?!

[ What kind of a name is Timothy?!?!

He starts running his hands though his hair, alternating from right to left and messing up hours of styling. Maybe his brain is melting.
Sorry Tim, but Rhys's not even listening to all the other stuff he says next, he can't handle this. ]

Oh my god...oh my god. I'm finally losing it, it's happening.

[ Just muttering to himself over here, definitely not having a total breakdown. ]

[ In fact, it's a very normal name!! MISTER STRONGFORK.

One of the most unfair things about the whole situation that he can't even hold it against him that much; he wouldn't be super inclined to believe anything coming out of this face, either, but that can't and doesn't stop it from getting under his skin; how many times can people refuse to believe you when you tell them who you are before you snap?

Tim's not sure, though. He's not there just yet. ]

DUDE. Riddle me this, cupcake, why on earth would I lie about that? Nope, no, better question, why on earth would Jack lie about being a frickin' nobody?

[ Because while it wasn't Jack's style to lie about everything, he was capable of lying about anything. That's probably why.

Also, the truth is that Tim is far from a nobody. ]

I'd tell you to go ahead and scan me—guessing you can do that—but uhhh, well, turns out I'm a Doppelganger down to the DNA too these days, don't ask me how he pulled that off, so... you know. Now that I'm thinking about it, that probably wasn't helpful information to volunteer just now. [ A beat. ] I'm NOT HIM, okay??

[ 😠 ]

Jack's dead.

Edited 2022-02-09 21:43 (UTC)

[ It's like the words are coming through a layer of cotton, muffled under the sheer panic Rhys is feeling in this moment, but he's hearing not-Jack and the guy's making some really solid points.

Jack, the real one that Rhys never knew, or the digital ghost, or whatever form he took next (a horrible thought) would never deny being anyone but himself.

The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins, but Rhys is starting to feel a little less like he's on the verge of dying. His legs don't feel like they're strong enough to hold him up anymore though so he's just going to sink to the ground now, thanks.

He tips his head back, stares up at the ceiling. ]

You're not Jack.

[ Like somehow repeating the guy will help him come to terms with all this. His brain's finally catching up with him at least. ]

Exaaaaactlyyyyyy. Only got it in like eleven, cupcake, sheesh.

[ Being like this, of course, is not making things easier for himself or apparently others. But old habits. And DNA. And stuff. Considering the circumstances, it's not really his fault, okay.

Timothy sighs. He's not unsympathetic to where this guy's at right now, y'know, the point of being too keyed up and exhausted to make sense of anything anymore, so your soul just kinda leaves your body for a second?

It's with that in mind that he moves in, steps careful and slow, supplicating hands still held up to expose the light on his artificial palm, and veeery gradually sinks into a sitting position against the wall opposite Rhys.

Just two dudes sitting on the floor in the hallway like a couple of middle schoolers, it's very normal. ]

Look, I totally get it. You have [ half-laughed; a small stressed titter ] no idea just how totally I get it, okay, you don't run around seeing this mug in the mirror for a friggin' decade and not thoroughly start to get it, so...

[ Not that there are many intact mirrors left in the Jackpot. Not that he'd probably be looking in them if there were.

Tim fiddles with his jacket sleeve, revealing just enough of the boundary between Winning Hand and skin to suggest that the tattoo that encircled Jack's wrist is not there. ]

So all right then, it's your turn... Jack was a god-tier dickhole, but people aren't usually that scared of him without there being some kinda story behind it. So who are you, and what's yours?

[ Mind clearing, heart slowing, god he's covered in sweat. He runs a still shaking up and back hand through his hair, holds it at the nape of his neck to steady himself.

When he finds his voice it comes out slurred, like he'd just sprinted a mile and still hadn't caught his breath. ]

R-right. M'sorry? You um, you must get this reaction a lot.

[ The dopplegangers- the true ones, not just your average mook wearing a digistructed disguise, were somewhat of an urban legend around the halls of Helios. A bit of a boogey man. Maybe Jack himself wouldn't have the time to rip you from your desk and toss you out an airlock, but a doppleganger might! ]

That's uh- I mean... what Helios employee in their right wasn't scared shitless of Jack? We were practically trained to be the moment we stepped foot on Helios, haha.

[ He is not going to get into the thick of it with a guy he just met, especially a guy who looks just like the one who...look. Rhys doesn't owe anyone his story. He doesn't want to reminisce on that fun time he was nearly bodysnatched by his former hero. Up until now he's done a great job at avoiding thoughts of Jack almost completely, at least while awake. ]

Not that I'm one anymore. A Helios employee.

[ He wants to say "or scared of Jack!" but he's kinda already screwed the pooch on that one. ]

[ Tim's chuckle is clipped, bitter, but somewhere deep down there's also a genuine undercurrent of... almost real joy? ]

I mean, yeah, duh. You died, didn't you? Only way out I've been able to find.

[ There weren't a lot of Helios employees at the Handsome Jackpot. Not usually on payroll, chalk that up to demand for different skill sets, maybe. Definitely not as guests. Who could afford it? Tim thinks he can recall seeing a handful of Hyperion big shots from time to time—C-suite douchebags shipped in for a comped weekend of revelry. Those ones, uh... more often than not, they had a way of disappearing before the start of the next quarter.

Point being, this tiny sliver of common ground does a great job highlighting how incredibly isolating his life's been up to now. ]

Meanwhile, Chief Executive ASSHOLE'S been screwing me and a thousand other people from beyond the grave for years. You know that casino he built out at the edge of the system? And didja know it was rigged to go into lockdown in the event of his untimely death? Go on, ask me how I know.

[ It is probably not necessary to ask him how he knows. ]

I left before I-

[ Died. Rhys...still doesn't buy that part entirely? The tech in this place is insane, and he gets how that's out of the scope of reality for some people here, but it's mostly been in line with what he'd expect. Being brought back from the dead though... that's always seemed like that one step too far to be real. ]

I was already out before I was brought here.

[ God this is so surreal, being yammered to by a guy that definitely talks as much as Jack, but probably (he's like...98% sure) not the real deal. Rhys just kinda nods along, not really absorbing what's going on around him. ]

Uh....? How do you know?

[ He can guess but he just. Doesn't know what else to even say or do right now. ]

[ In the low, dulcet tones of a man with a headache — ]

No,

[ The bunk across from Tim's creaks. A pale hand grips the door, knuckles going somehow whiter to shove the thing open. A rattle would be satisfying, but the hinges just glide clean. That's space plastic for you. No sense of drama.]

Awake hurts more.

[ In spite of the relative hush with which Silco announces his presence, the sounds across the way spur Tim to swing his attention up and forward—and directly into the pod ceiling with a resounding hollow DONK! How's that for drama. ]

Motherf— aaagh...

[ There's few seconds of clamoring and flailing about as he rearranges himself, coming to perch at last at the edge of the pod's opening. The stripe of visible forehead above his mask has slightly reddened with the impact. ]

Ho-kay, mildly ominous way of clarifying, buuuut... when you're right you're right.

[ This guy sort of gives Timothy... a Vibe. Not even sure what that means, but. Vibe. ]

Seriously though, they just shove a bunch of dangerous prisoners in the same little egg carton and nobody's torn each other limb from limb? Seems kinda, I dunno, impossible, don'cha think? Come on.

[ Well with choreography like that - ]

Egg carton. [ Silco descends from his own pod, a spidery cut of limbs. It would be a little more imposing if his hair weren't sticking in three different directions, bad eye still cauling a dusty film. He glances up, begins rolling a sleeve. ] What a curious way to put it.

Are you familiar with the saying — how does it go? The enemy of my enemy? [ An expectant quirk of brow. ] One wonders what might hatch.

[This gets him a middle finger from the guy next to him in pink glasses and bright red pumps.]

Not a cupcake. And I'm 'in here' because without any kind of judicial system, people can just be arbitrarily labeled as evil.

[He looks down for a moment at Timothy's commlink.]

You just believed that thing instantly, huh? Great.

[He reaches to adjust the stocking at the back of one of his heels.]

I love being around people.

[ The truth is that Tim'll take just about any finger if it's not curled around the trigger of a gun.

Wait—

No... no, still true. ]

I mean, nobody's tried to dismember me just yet so I feel like you guys can't be that bad. It's at least a helluva step up from the position I was in before this... which I'm pretty sure was full of holes, now that I think about it.

[ Timothy follows Volk's gaze to the commlink, eyes surreptitiously(?) skimming across the shining surface of that heel and up a short distance along the curve of his calf. "Cupcake" still feels a little apt, but those are Jack's words, not his, so he holds his tongue. ]

Like, for realsies though, is any of this even real? Maybe I'm just super dead and this is what happens to poor stupid assholes who sign their life away over student loans. And if it is, god, you know, do I even mind? I dunno! Which, guessing, uh, you wouldn't either... Unless? Unless this is some kind of, kind of freaky coma situation where I have to reckon with the disparate fragments of my psyche to be, like, whole again—in which case: great shoes, me!

[ It is legitimately difficult to get a read on whether he's being sincere or brutally sarcastic. Let's be real, even he's not totally sure. Could just as easily be both at once. He's pretty sure he's sane. It's fine. ]

[Volk looks startled, but not for any of the reasons you'd think:]

Wait, you too?!

[Staring.]

The loans, I mean.

[ spidermanpoint dot jpg ]

Ho. Lee. Dicknipples don't you even get me started man, because I can go all goddamn day.

[ So that's the end of it, ri— ]

'Cause see, see, here's the thing they don't tell you, you find a nice community college, you get your generals out of the way first, and then you go in for the fancy-schmancy performing arts degree at a way too expensive off-world university—

[ There's something like an anguished creak in his voice, or a note of faintly hysterical sorrow. Performing arts degree. God. Now that he's in his thirties it's painful just saying it out loud. ]

—and then, then, when you're broke and starving and move back in with your mom six months after graduation, you do not let your old professors talk you into joining up with a predatory evil corporation and you definitely do not accept the ✨role✨ [ those are audible ] of "CEO Body Double" for an absolute frrrreaking psychopath who'll permanently erase your old identity and surgically alter your face and voice and never let you leave...!

[ He's only stopping because he's out of breath. ]

[Volk makes a noise like a squeaky toy being stepped on and reaches to put his hand on Timothy's shoulder so that Volk's entire upper half can go limp and wince down at the floor.]

Auueehhh. Sirira Institute for the Arts, class of IR89. The, the body double part, that, you did lose me there -

[He looks up, glances around.]

IIIIIII did something else. Let's say, not approved of by law enforcement.

[Let's say: He doesn't want wardens asking him about it, so let's not get too loud or too into detail.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TEST DRIVE 002

Timothy Lawrence | Borderlands | Inmate

BUSTS IN LIKE THE KOOLAID MAN

OH YEAAAHHHH

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oh notifs are broken i guess : \