ph_memes | [Special Test Drive] Villain's Lounge

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You find yourself in a lounge.

You're not sure how you got here, or when you got here. The phrase "pulled from the mouth of Hell" springs to mind, unbidden. Assuming you have hands, there's a drink in one of them. A drink you like. If not, then perhaps something else will strike your fancy. Some lavish treat that is to your tastes. Someone has spared no expense making you comfortable.

"I'm so glad you all could make it," croons the Deer-Headed Man. He wears a business suit and carries a cane. You know him. He offered you something, shook your hand (or whatever you have) and promised you exactly what you wanted. All you had to do was "what you do best..."

"The casino will be open to the public before too long, and we'll begin assigning you prey," the Deer-Headed Man continues. "But for now, please enjoy this VIP lounge. I'd love it if you all took the chance to mingle, get to know each other. The bar is open, as is the kitchen. Anything you want is on my tab. I've got a lot to do, but I'll try to swing by later to answer any questions."

He disappears, leaving you and a strange collection of... colleagues, ostensibly, alone in the lounge. Deep blue plush furniture. Wood stained a deep black and polished expertly. Gold trim tastefully slipped in where appropriate. This place is classy. And you have the run of it.

What will you do?

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[ The Villain's Lounge is a special test drive meme for guest villains for our Halloween Special. You do not have to apply officially to test drive, but you must apply officially in order to participate in the Special. Applications are due October 1st and can be done here. This is just an opportunity to test and practice! Have fun, and stay spooky! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's an extremely serious-looking woman in a navy blue uniform standing with her back to the wall, very pointedly not drinking or eating anything, and staring down everybody in the room with a hawklike intensity. She doesn't move from her spot for a good long while, but as the - day? night? whatever time it is - wears on, she does finally tire of standing at attention, and spares a slightly more casual glance at the man in the suit.

"You seem awfully comfortable with all of this," she says, though she's pretty sure he's been watching the others with as much interest and intent as she has, if not more. He's just bothering to be more subtle about it, which says something in and of itself. Immediately she doesn't trust him.

He's noticed her, and finds it interesting that he can't identify the uniform. Someone's private guard, maybe, or a paramilitary group he doesn't know? Though he's gathered by now that they aren't all here from the same world, so she might well consider her uniform easily recognizable.

When she addresses him, he responds with an easy smile. "Well, our host seems to have gone to a great deal of effort to try to make us comfortable. It's only polite to appreciate his hospitality, wouldn't you say?"

In turn, it's in part the lack of recognition that's tipped Augustine off to how many different worlds may be represented here. For better or worse, she's been the public face of the Department of Unified Protection for years now, and that's meant near constant interviews and televised appearances. That she can stand here and not have anyone seem to care about her presence any more than they do anyone else's is refreshing in a way, but it has thrown her off a little.

"Hm. I can see the logic in not wanting to offend our... benefactor," she admits. "But I'll just have to hope he understands we all prepare for these things in our own ways. I've never been the type to try to unwind before a fight."

Or after losing one so spectacularly. If she had her way she'd be running through drills of every technique and tactic she fumbled on her way here, but somehow she doubts anyone else would appreciate her tearing up the foundations to do so.

"Understandable," he says smoothly. "I've been wondering about a practice range myself. I'm told that I'll have access to a modified version of my usual equipment, and I'd like to have some chance to test it out before the main event."

In the constantly-whirring paranoid parts of Augustine's mind, she does have to wonder if being prevented from effectively practicing before the main event is a way of leveling the playing field somewhat. She doesn't dare to speculate on that out loud, though, worried at who might overhear and take it as ingratitude.

"And what sort of equipment might that be?" she asks, instead. Might as well get a sense of the caliber of person she's being lumped in with here - if there's indeed anything they have in common besides a willingness to shake a deer-headed man's hand and agree to kill sight unseen for personal gain.

"A suit of armor," he answers easily, "with internal weapons. I haven't been told what the modified version is going to look like."

And if he's irritated about that, he's concealing it moderately well.

Interesting. Augustine didn't exactly expect that everyone here would be fighting unarmed - or as unarmed as a Conduit can ever be, in her case - but it's nice to have that confirmed. Especially since what this man is describing doesn't sound like anything she's familiar with. Armor with integrated weaponry isn't exactly the realm of science fiction alone, but it's certainly not in vogue.

"Something of your own making? Or just your weapon of choice?" she asks, genuinely curious. He does have a similar look about him to of some of the weapons manufacturers and tech magnates she's had the... pleasure of meeting, in the course of her career. It's a rare thing that they ever make use of their own inventions, but stranger things have happened.

"My design." Said with the kind of overt modesty that's more of a boast than anything else. "I worked from real-world models, but I like to think I made some small improvements."

"Of course."

She's well familiar with that kind of subtle boasting without boasting, too. Best to just play along.

"Well. While I don't think fairness is much of a consideration at a time like this, it does make sense that any weapons we're allowed are something we earned somehow - like by building it, in your case. I just have to wonder what our... prey will be allowed to bring to level the playing field."

"Assuming our host wants the playing field level," he says thoughtfully. "Or at least enough so to make for an interesting game ... And what will you be bringing yourself?"

He did tell her, after all. Even if fairness isn't much of a consideration at a time like this.

Augustine's good at playing her cards close to her chest, but the observant - for instance, Xanatos - will notice her hesitate briefly in thought before answering. It's a question of what term to use. Of who's listening and what they might say to who.

"Stop me, if I'm describing something you're already familiar with," she says, after that split-second's pause. "But seeing as many of us seem to be from... very different worlds, I'll put it this way. I'm a person sensitive to rayicite radiation - it means that since my exposure to a considerable amount of it some years ago, I'm much stronger than I look, and capable of manipulating certain materials from a distance."

Pausing, she reaches out with her mind, seeking something nearby that calls out to her on the right frequencies. Unfortunately Aster's sense of decoration is a little less industrial than might lend itself to concrete countertops for style, but she finds an appropriately similar whiskey stone resting in a glass behind her and raises a hand, which it leaps into like a trained bird.

"Like so."

His brows flick upward. "I see. No, I can't say I'm familiar with that technique. -- Is it a technique? Or an innate ability?"

He sounds fascinated. (Which he is, but he's also a little disquieted, and taking the trouble not to sound like it.)

"Innate," she answers, watching his expression carefully as she sets the whiskey stone back down again. "Although a fraction of the ability can be... transferred. There's a number of people under my command who can do what I can, just at a smaller scale. But I'm the source."

What goes unsaid is how painful the process is, for both the Conduit and the human receiving their powers. But it's not like she was ever in a position to deny the DUP anything she had to give, as much as they liked to act like she was in control.

"That sounds like a great deal of responsibility." There's respect in his tone now, along with the fascination. "And considerable potential; I can only imagine what you could do with that kind of ability. I hope you're all well compensated for it."

(Yes, he's aware that they're most likely from different worlds and there's no real chance of talent-poaching here, but it never hurts to keep in practice.)

[Special Test Drive] Villain's Lounge

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