outofalpha | July/August Test Drive Meme

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July/August Test Drive Meme

Alpha Complex Test Drive Meme

Alpha Complex opened Sunday, July 31st. Please feel free to take a Test Drive to see if the environment would suit your character! All potential players are welcome.

It may be your first day in Alpha Complex or your hundredth, either way, you are in serious trouble.

In a bid to win sympathy and new recruits, the Frankenstein Destroyers - a secret society within Alpha who sees all bots as enemies, has uploaded a virus that is affecting all bots within the complex.

For the next twenty four hours, every bot you see will be the enemy. Your assigned Personal Digital Companion(PDC), a personal communication device, has turned on you and is intentionally misfiring your texts, phone calls and videos. The Bouncy Bubble Beverage machine in the cafeteria is shooting out bottles at passers by at high speeds. The high tech vacuum cleaner used to vacuum your clearance level's common room is attempting to suck up everything in sight. Elevators are trying to coerce people to climb out, so they can behead them. That adorable Petbot you purchased last week is trying to tear your throat out. That Guardbot from the Armed Services Sector is attempting to take out citizens, one by one. Autocars are driving themselves, right onto sidewalks and through windows...

Will you fight for your right to exist or hole up somewhere safe until the chaos passes?

Do not fear, citizen! The Computer and it's high advisors are working to restore order.

In the meantime, be safe and beware of bots and traitors!

Please post your character name and fandom in the subject line.
Mingle Together. Explore Together. Adventure Together.
Premise | Setting Information | New Arrival Introduction

Threaded | Flat

If there is a nightmare scenario for Elliot, it's a place like this. Tech is his best friend. Tech is his crutch. Tech keeps him at an arm's length from most people in his life. That's for the best, for all involved, he thinks. After actually succeeding in fsociety's plan, after everything going to sh*t, he though going away would be good. Would be ...

Somehow, he's not surprised that he ends up in the worst place he possibly could. He listened to the "welcome" video, see. He replays it in his head, but he doesn't argue.

He keeps his ME card stored away after doing all he can to demagnetize it. (He won't be traced, especially when things start going haywire.) If he can't deactivate it, he'll do his best to reprogram it; it will keep him up at night. It isn't as if he sleeps. The drugs?

The drugs he keeps nearby. He doesn't take them, but he wants to, even if he isn't sure what they do.

He wants to.

Sometimes, he expects to see Mr. Robot. It's only a matter of time, isn't it?

He tries to take the PDC apart; If he can take it apart, he will try to hack it, noticing the misfires, noticing that something is f*cked up, noticing the freakazoid robot-pets are f*cking up, too. He keeps his head down and he dismantles his cleaner-bot too. He walks around with his head down, shoulders pulled up by his ears. He listens, he watches, but he rarely interacts unless someone comes up to him first. Anxiety, introversion, failing tech.

It looks like fsociety has already reached this place and Elliot didn't have anything to do with it.

Two days of watching an educational video on Alpha Complex was more than enough.

Perhaps he is a clone. Perhaps he's nothing more than the chemically manufactured offspring of a boy who had too many bad memories to carry around with him, and if Isaac is honest with himself, it's easy to believe, more he thinks about it. Why would he want to convince himself that he spent his life abused and abandoned, alone and scared? It's easier to project that onto the carrier his genes were taken from. Maybe that's the denial talking, or maybe it was the non-stop droning of Teela that broke him down. Either way, he believes it, even though the memories - glitches - make his chest feel tight and his stomach twist. They said it would pass. So it would pass.

That doesn't fix his mood, though. Two days of being reminded of who he was left Isaac exhausted and starving, which raises another question. If they make clones, why make them exact copies instead of advanced beings who didn't need trivial things like food and water? He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his head; inappropriate. He can't think those things. Thinking those things is dangerous. He can't be dangerous. Clones aren't dangerous.

He's practically dragging his feet as he moves through the cafeteria, having just been released from his 'reeducation', and Isaac is barely aware of the world around him until someone - something - pelts him hard in the side of the head, almost knocking him on his feet.

"Fu- what the hell?" He snaps angrily before turning to see his attacker, the anger in his expression melting away into confusion when no one stood before the Bouncy Bubble Beverage machine. He almost turns to look around before he sees another bottle rocket out of it with speed that would almost be impressive if it wasn't absolutely ridiculous, and it happens so fast that he doesn't have time to dodge before it hits him squarely in the chest. "Fuck!" It slips this time in both shock and irritation, hand moving to his chest as he stares at the vending machine in disbelief. "Hey, is anybody going to fix this thing?" He sure as hell can't, so he yells it at the cafeteria as a whole, turning around to move away before- another bottle hits him in the back of the head. His jaw tightens with indignation. Clones aren't dangerous.

Clones aren't dangerous. But vending machines are assholes.

With a mixture of his already short temper and the exhaustion set in him within the past two days, Isaac spins and bends down to scoop up a discarded bottle on the ground and, without thought or reason, throws it as hard as he can back at the vending machine. It spits out another, as if mocking his effort, and Isaac dodges before picking up another and throwing that one too. If his first fight in the 'free world' is with a vending machine, then he supposes he's already doing better than his predecessor was. Besides. The machine started it.

"I should have taken up cricket." But these trays will do. She smacks another bottle out of the air and blows a rogue curl of hair from her face. This would be much easier if there was an obvious way to turn the machine off, she could move on to tackling a more pressing problem, the annoying exit doors.

Peggy whacks another bottle and it hits the wall with a satisfying thud. At some point this thing has to run out of beverages.

...all right, well. There are worse things than having to dodge a rogue Autocar on the way to his room, right? Cisco's dealt with worse things than that. Zoom, for one. But, on the other hand, he also didn't have a fugly red jumpsuit on. He wasn't stuck with a PDC that was clearly a hater and he wasn't for lack of the tools he needed to fix any of those things. If, you know, those things really happened? Did they? Metahumans? The Flash? Being able to open actual portals to Earth 2...? Those are pretty heavy and specific for glitches in the system if he's a clone. And yo, don't even get him started thinking about the irony in being called a clone.

So yeah, all right, there's worse things, but he really could do without the fact that he almost got hit by a freaking car while walking down the hall to his room. He absolutely could do without that.

"Ay, Dios mío," he mutters, frowning, as he moves into his new quarters — seriously? There's supposed to be five people in this room? Is the Computer high right now? — and drops down onto the nearest bed. He decides to try the PDC again in the hopes that maybe it was a server error, but when he tries again to make a post onto this Specials network to see what's up with that, it posts public. "...for real?" he groans, taking the post down again because he's heard whispers and he's so not down with immediately outing himself as a Special if he's going to be surrounded by people who hate Specials, at least not if he can help it.

It's hard to tell how long Tony had been in that room, watching The History of Alpha Complex until it felt like his ears were going to start bleeding. Not because he had been fascinated, or even trying to remember details - he had memorized them pretty damn quickly, actually - but because it just felt...wrong. What they called a glitch kept coming back, and memories filtered in that made him question literally everything. Ultimately it had been his desire to leave more than the actual act of accepting what he was being told what drove him to just smile and nod when he was questioned again, and he was finally allowed to leave.

He doesn't make it far, though. As he walks, the sound of someone screaming stops him, and he's quick to look back in that direction. There's not a lot of time to think before he's moving forward, almost by instinct, and he runs into a Guardbot that is about to shoot at a pair of horrified citizens. His hand reaches for the laser pistol that he had been given before he remembers that the damn thing is empty, but whatever. It doesn't matter. Even if it's just the body of the pistol, he still grabs it and uses it to hit its back. To distract it, hopefully, and--

Yep. The Guardbot is distracted, alright, as it whips around to him now.

Crap. What was step two?

"Run," he yells at the people that had been about to get shot, before he turns his attention back to the bot. His eyes scan the damn thing as he tries to dodge it, and he mainly thinks it's just to make sure he's not going to get hit or shot, but the 'glitch' is making him look for weaknesses. He just wants to find a way to power it down and stop it once and for all.

Buffy has been in this place for a couple of weeks, long enough to hear all the conspiracy theories and do plenty of grousing about the lack of stylish clothing, not to mention the supreme void of pop culture. Okay, so she hates this place. She's got her own world to save and a sister to keep safe. She really can't take time out of her busy schedule to play 'clone or not clone' in an underground bunker.

"Seriously? Does no one here watch movies? This betrayal, totally inevitable," Buffy grumbles (loudly) just before executing a round house kick that takes out one of the guard bots. She's armed with an arm (haha) that she pulled off a bot previously and she's managed to fashion it into a club slash sort of sharp and pointy thing. She's definitely going to have to see about doing some strategic furniture breakage so that the next time this happens (because watch some movies, folks; there's always going to be a next time) she'll be appropriately weaponized.

It's a busy morning, day, night ad nauseam for Buffy because she's going to be all over the compound trying to save people from the raging robots. She's resourceful, but this isn't her usual kind of monster mashing. Then again, did she really expect usual in a place like this?

They say that the memories that don't line up with Alpha Complex aren't real. Glitches, they say. Pietro believes that, because he can't run the way that the glitches suggest. He believes them because it doesn't make sense for a person to be able to run that fast, anyway. He's just Pietro Maximoff and he thinks Sokovia is an awfully strange name for the glitches to have created but he thinks the memories of the protests are probably what got him killed in the first place, really. Not being an Avenger — there's no such thing — or being a hero. It makes more sense to him that he was killed in one of the protests against the Computer. Treasonous, that sounds about right for Pietro. He'll do better this time, though. There aren't enough clones of him to safely perpetuate his rebellion, he knows that now. He understands.

At least, he tells himself so. Instincts, it seems, are a lot more natural and difficult to override than he would like, because when he hears the screams and sees the Guardbot shoot; a subsequent RED jumpsuit dropping limply to the floor.

"Go!" he calls out to the others milling around in panicked confusion. "Why you still stay here?! Run!" His English is a little bit broken and the accent is thick and of Eastern European origin, but he figures that he makes enough sense that the people around him should listen. All but one does, as a matter of fact, and the crowd scatters like cockroaches; as if Pietro's voice was the light switch being turned on and they finally broke out of their frozen fear to get out of the line of fire. Pietro can't decide if the one left over is still too afraid or is going to try to fight the damn thing off, but when the Guardbot aims again, Pietro doesn't wait to find out.

He lunges for the other, tackling them to the ground and managing to keep them both from being hit before he scrambles back to his feet and drags them up with him. "Come on, what you doing just standing there? You trying to die today? Let's go," he says urgently.

She can't exactly say why she prefers something as simple as a bow and arrow for weapon of choice, but Kate's come to realize that there are some things you just don't question. At least that's what that video seemed to imply. Or was it that there are some things you are supposed to question? Whatever. Now's not the time for debate.

The trio of Guardbots are getting closer and Kate's no closer to getting her group of citizens inside a safe shelter. She pulls another arrow from her quiver and notches it on her arrow screen. Kate aims at the closest of the three robots, looking away to briefly address the people standing behind there. What are they waiting for? Permission?

"Now'd be a really good time to run!"

Nick still doesn't quite know if he can fully embrace the History of Alpha Complex. Sure, he's been trying to force memories that he doesn't have and ideals that go against everything that every fiber of his being actually does feel. It's just a glitch. The werewolf....no.... he's not a werewolf, he's not a mutant, the man.... Nick is just, simply, a man...the man has definitely been having more trouble than he's willing to admit. He got through the introduction through sheer force of will, somehow, and he's just been doing what he's been told he's supposed to since.

Battling the little voice in his head, and the instincts within him is sort of exhausting, though, if Nick's being honest with himself. He wishes it were easier to just ignore the false memories. Bitterly, he can't help but wonder why, if these people are aware of the glitches, they aren't doing more to get rid of them and to make things easier on everyone? To him that's easier than letting people feel and get sucked into the memories that are completely wrong. The struggle sucks.

Nick still doesn't feel like a clone, though.

Sighing, the tall man reaches up to rake a hand through his hair, as he enters the common room. It takes him a moment to realize that the place is a mess and that something is quite obviously off. And then another moment passes before he realizes that the vacuum is heading for him. "What the hell?" Nick pops out of the tall man's mouth, as he sidesteps the machine with a frown in place....and then again as the thing continues it's determined pursuit. Nick, who is clearly far too big for the damn thing to actually suck up, can't help but cock his head. "Seriously?"

Fighting the urge to pick the piece of machinery up and smash it, knowing that he doesn't have the actual strength that his false memories make him feel like he has, Nick instead takes several steps back (glad for his height in this moment) to put space between him and the vacuum, and once it zooms in his direction, he aims a swift kick at the thing. There was a satisfaction that hit Nick at the show of aggression, and he contemplates kicking the damn thing again, but decides he better not.

So, instead of giving into his baser urges, Nick turns, surprise hitting him immediately as he registers the fact that there is another person standing there, and smiles a bit. "The vacuum cleaner started it!" Nick gestures backward, where said vacuum cleaner (which despite having been kicked pretty hard, is now attempting to fizz back to it's purpose...to suck everything ever up), with a look on his face that can only be described as a mixture of amusement and sheepishness.

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"You just got Holtzmanned, baby!" she crowed at a security bot laying in pieces at her feet, admittedly it a was a phrase she'd used before and she didn't want to exactly get into catchphrase territory (though, as catchphrases went, it wasn't that bad), but nobody was around who had heard it before so it was basically like it was happening for the first time, right?
She just wished she had her guns with her, or her proton pack at all really, the protonic streams weren't designed to be used on electronic equipment officially, but they damn well wouldn't do it any good.

Still, she'd located a blow torch and a length of pipe and what more did you really need? She was feeling some serious post-apocalyptic war zone vibes right now and kind of wanted to go hunting for some more security bots to destroy, she'd already ripped the innards out of her PDC (but that had more to do with interest in what made it tick/scavenging parts than stopping it from malfunctioning) and-

"Hello, what do we have here, such interesting circuits you have my little friend," murderous reign of robotic terror temporarily halted (or holtzed), she crouched down to look at the freshly revealed interior of her recently defeated foe. Now, that was some interesting tech.

The truth was, Lexa had barely opened her eyes by the time everyone who was supposed to be watching her had bolted out the door. Groggily the young woman had rolled off the bed, landing sharply on the floor just as some piece of shrapnel flew overhead.

Her brightly coloured outfit snagged on some broken glass as she crawled forward to stick her head around the door to try to work out who had taken her and why, black blood oozing onto red fabric where the shards had grabbed at her knee and smearing on the floor as she did so.

Outside, someone screamed, a person who looked half out of their mind bolted past the doorway, followed by... a mechanical dog that was seemingly trying to attack it. Lexa pulled herself back behind the cover of the door before either of them had a chance to really notice her and picked the few bits of glass out before deciding she needed to find a weapon, any weapon, since these mountain men or Becca only knew what had clearly taken hers and this place wasn't safe.

Becca.

Lexa froze in the middle of the hallway as she tried to think, to find them but for the first time since the age of fourteen, Leksa kom Trikru was alone in her mind. That simply wasn't possible. She couldn't be alive and the connection to the flame be dead, even if they had stolen the flame from her it would surely kill her... would it not?! Frantically she pulled aside her hair and pressed and poked at the nape of her neck, trying to find the little hard bump under her skin. It had to be there. The scar was still there, a solid line under her tattoo. She still bled black, the slow drip staining the red suit told her that, but it was gone.

She turned back into the room they had had her in, overturning every tray and draw looking for it. It had to be here, it had to be somewhere in this place, in this mountain, in this little hell she had awoken too. It just wasn't possible for it to simply disappear.

If it had, she had failed all her people ever since the first.

Leksa kom Trikru, the visionary, had finally fucked up beyond repair.

Unsatisfied, Lexa moved to the hall again, running room to room and ignoring everyone in her path. She was a mess, a fury of wild hair and a blur of red that ran and jumped even with her bleeding knee. Lexa didn't care if whoever had brought her here didn't like it, she didn't care if she scared the locals. The flame had been the one thing capable of uniting her people and so help her god she would get it back and then get back to Clarke if she had to dig herself out of her with her teeth and nails.

...Clarke. Was Clarke here too? Had they both been taken? She would have to check before she left, if she ever left.

Lexa ran into yet another room, only this time it had more than a lot of suddenly dropped papers or scared people in it. She cursed as a bottle of some bright sticky liquid catapulted itself at her and burst only inches behind her, sending soda and glass bouncing back onto her.

Another rattled ominously in the machine and then burst out, this time aiming dead centre for her, but she jumped it and then moved, kicking over one of the metal tables and shoving it against the front of the machine that continued to fire as she held it in place. She was going to be bruised later. Lexa hopped to her feet yet hopefully before it could sense her weight has gone she ran headlong back into the hall.

Jogging to the next room, her hair sticking to the sweat on her face, sticky liquid mixing with black blood on her clothes and skin just as the machine managed to shift the table back away and another bottle exploded into the hall. She was going to have to make a weapon if she didn't find one soon.

Some welcoming party.

Edited 2016-08-14 14:01 (UTC)

Caitlin's just 'arrived,' just turned loose to find her room. As tempted as she was, she suppressed her urge to argue against what she's been told. False memories? No, they can't be. The sheer terror that threatens to overwhelm her, that makes her heart pound and her pulse race, that's real. So is the exhaustion she feels down to her bones, like she hasn't slept in days, and the aches that throb dully in her wrists and her back. It's real.

Isn't it?

That's a question she'll need to answer later. What's definitely real is the elevator she's stuck in. Well, not exactly stuck. Between zooming at break-neck speeds through the floors, it stops randomly, the doors invitingly open. But she knows better than to trust it. She hadn't gotten on the elevator alone. And the first time the doors opened, before it seemed to have gone crazy, her companion had stepped out first.

The crunch of breaking bone and the sickening squelch of tearing flesh still lingers in her ears.

Now it seems like the elevator is trying to either make her sick, to force her off, or make her dizzy and off-balance, to make her stumble out. To avoid the latter, she's curled up in one corner, her knees clutched to her chest. When the doors open this time, she takes a chance to call out. "Help! Somebody? Barry?"

She jerks back, one hand covering her mouth. That name. Why did she just yell that name?

Jesse doesn’t believe them when they tell her the things she’s remembering are false memories. Oh, she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t argue even though she wants to, just nods and agrees. They feel too real. The fear she’d felt, the desperate need for someone she cared about to be safe. That’s real. It has to be.

She doesn’t have long to dwell on that, though, because there’s way more important things. Like the fact that things are trying to KILL her. Apparently bots have taken a dislike to the living (a virus, she thinks, it has to be a virus, or they’ve been hacked. If that’s even possible) and are trying to remove them as painfully as possible.

Her ribs are aching and she can already feel the bruises forming from the Bouncy Bubble Beverage machine that had fired bottles at her. She’d dodged the really dangerous ones, the bottles that would have hit her in the head... but it still managed a few good hits. Way more good hits than she would like. She’s going to be feeling it later; she’s feeling it NOW but she’s ignoring it as best she can.

Right now she’s using the dead Guardbot she’d managed to take out with some hastily cobbled together equipment as a shield as one of its friends tries to kill her. She’s wrist deep in the first Guardbot’s insides as she tries desperately to come up with a way to keep herself from getting dead.

Since coming back from Lian Yu, Oliver Queen had always been two people. He'd been Oliver: friend, son, brother. The man who tried and failed to keep his father's company together even though he knew nothing about running a business. But he'd also been the man in the Green Hood, the Arrow and, most recently, the Green Arrow. He'd been a man trying desperately to save a city in an increasingly complex world. But then he woke up in the Alpha Complex and complexity took on a different meaning.

He listened patiently to the lecture and then made all the right noises. He was nothing, he was no one. He was a cog in a machine that was so much larger than him that it seemed incomprehensible to consider the whole.

He wondered later how much they actually knew about his background. Did they only know Oliver Queen, mayoral candidate? Or did history know who he really was? Did they know they had on their hands a revolutionary who would do anything to protect the weak and abused?

He'd had to find the block of wood on the black market. Smaller pieces used for whittling could be excused as a hobby, but for what he had in mind, he needed quantity and quality. It took him a while to complete, but eventually he had his bow and a handful of arrows. He was going to have to be careful how he used them.

But not too careful. It started out as one of those little mechanical dogs barking. He didn't really think anything of it, even when it nipped at its owner. It was just a malfunction. There were plenty of people here who could fix it. He'd spent the last hour finding the hidden paths throughout the Complex, the back doors and the things Oliver would never even consider. But then one of the bulbs on the mechanical guards started flashing red and he knew it was time to come out of hiding.

"Get behind me," he shouted to the nearest person, shoving them behind him and readying his bow. He wasn't equipped for this. Maybe he should have found explosives to put on some of the arrowheads.

Jack felt wrong. Not the kind of wrong that felt familiar, but the kind of wrong where things he's being told just don't add up. How could a life a thousand years old be false. How could he remember losing his memories before only to be told that too was wrong.

Something wasn't right here and rather than heading right to his room, Jack began to explore this place with the detail of someone who was a detective in his former false life. He poked his head carefully into corners and was currently people watching the others passing by trying to see if he could find someone he could trust.

"Come on Jack old boy," he muttered, "you've never had trouble attracting attention before why hesitate now.

Natasha was a fan of red and all, but these jumpsuits were ridiculous. But fashion was far from her biggest problem in that moment.

This place that she woke up in, it reminded her of home, and she didn't mean New York. The way that they worked so hard to convince her that she wasn't who she thought she was, the overwhelming darkness despite the place being well lit - the feeling that she was constantly being watched, not because she was paranoid but because she was. It all reminded her of the Red Room, of her monstrosity of a childhood that she had long ago given up on trying to leave behind in favor of embracing it and letting it become a part of who she was. The oppression was palpable in the air, and perhaps that was in her head, but if it was, so be it. She could accept that. Right now, her head was all she had to get her out of this mess.

As soon as she stepped into a public street the sound of chaos hit Natasha like a solid wall, so overwhelming that it made her feet abruptly freeze to the ground beneath her as her widened eyes searched around in loss. Alright, she wasn't a native, and she may be he new kid, but this? Robot dogs chasing after people, vending machines violently spitting out drinks with a vengeance, and - was that a vacuum trying to chase someone up a flight of steps? This didn't look normal. Or, god, she hoped it wasn't.

A part of Natasha just wanted to turn around right there and walk back inside, and demand that someone tell her why they took her from her home just so she could suffer through that stupid conditioning program long enough to keep her out of harms way. She was going to do just that until she saw what looked like a hovercraft...car...thing moving at high speed towards her, so out of control that she had to jump back as it skipped up the sidewalk and nearly ran her over. "The hell is going on here- hey - hey! Hey, turn around!" Her eyes had followed the hoverthing as it swerved back and forth on (over? this was truly ridiculous) the road, and if it would continue it would hit a person who was obviously distracted by something else. They were facing away from her and probably couldn't hear her above the chaos, and Natasha's instinct took over as she broke out into a sprint just as the demonfloat turned to head directly for the unsuspecting bystander.

It was a close call. Natasha had to take a running dive at the person with all of her weight to knock them out of the way, aiming for their center of gravity on purpose to get them to go down, and once they did Natasha landed on top of them as much as she could as the Unidentified Fucking Object crashed into the shop window above them, glass raining down over the back of her head and jumpsuit. "Come on," she said loudly to the stranger, immediately trying to move before something else decided that it was already time for her to die. She literally just arrived, why were there never welcome baskets? Wine? Safety goggles?

"Come on, we've got to move before a fire hydrant tries to drown us!"

Threaded | Flat

Alpha Complex Test Drive Meme

Elliot Alderson <mr.robot.s1>

Isaac Lahey | Teen Wolf

no subject

Cisco Ramon | The Flash

Tony Stark | MCU

no subject

pietro maximoff ⚡ mcu (aou)

Kate Bishop | Marvel

Nick Sorrentino | Bitten

Jillian Holtzmann | Ghostbusters 2016

Commander Lexa ☣ The 100

caitlin snow | the flash

Jesse Wells | The Flash

Oliver Queen | Arrow