test drive meme: pre-game opening #1
![]() ___test drive meme: dead weight edition. Step 1 → Post with the character and journal you're wanting to play. Leave the message blank with your Character's Name | Character's Canon. Step 2 → Other people respond to your thread! Fight zombies, deal with the "fictional character" news, whatever you please. Step 3 → ??? Step 4 → PROFIT! Step 5 → Spread the word! Bring a friend! Make a random announcement on D_M! Get this post to crack the hundreds! It doesn't matter if you end up apping or not! This is a place of fun and meeting new people before the waiting! |
Text somewhat shamelessly stolen from
assguardians.
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Steve Rogers | Marvel Cinematic Universe
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Sorry!
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[Steve's uniform is dirty but still exceptionally red, white and blue. His voice stays low as he shifts his shield back into a more relaxed position.]
How many were chasing you?
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I'm afraid I didn't have a chance to stop and do a head count on the oncoming masses. However, I think it's safe to quantify them as "a lot".
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Then we should get moving. Fighting a zombie horde [Which still sounds ridiculous to say, by the way.] isn't on my list of things to do today.
[Food is actually pretty high on his list. Stupid serum. Even if he's not quite as strong as he remembers being his metabolism is still crazy.]
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Believe me I'm right behind you!
[ Or slowly inching towards being in front of him, one of the two. Really, Jake's just not interested in standing around and being eaten. ]
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Stay close. I haven't been in the alley too long. The street behind me was clear and should be still.
[He shifts his grip on the shield as he stands and heads back out the way he came, keeping an eye on the stranger just so he knows where he is.]
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[So right now he's dehydrated, starving, his Black Sabbath shirt is a shredded mess, and the scrapes and bruises he's sporting are considerable. Has he mentioned he hates the woods? Trees are overrated. So are rocks. But he's found himself some shelter, dingy as it is, and he's pretty sure the damn things have lost his trail. So he's just going to slam the door shut behind him and sink down against it. He really needs to find another shirt or something to cover the light of his reactor. He was a walking beacon of 'come eat me I'm fresh meat'.]
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Still, he'd left a note in the house he'd broken into to acquire some supplies. Apologetically leaving his name and directing any bills be sent to him, he'd gotten out of town.
Night is falling and Steve isn't keen on being caught roaming the woods, but his pace is slow and steady with his shield at the ready. The shelter catches his eye and he creeps towards it, military training kicking in to keep stealthy. The ground below him isn't helping, cracking twigs and rustling leaves do little to help him be quiet on his approach. Hopefully, it's unoccupied or at the least not full of the undead.]
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[He leers out the window, unable to see much beyond .... no way. That shield was impossible to miss, even in the dank lighting. Steve Rogers. There was no wayCaptain Steve Rogers was pulled into this place too. He didn't look bit. Seemed to walk alright. No drool.]
[Better to be safe than sorry, though. He couldn't take on Steve Rogers without his suit back in their own home, there's no way he could take on an undead Steve Rogers here.]
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He stops twenty feet out, crouching half behind a tree and half behind his shield. After he surveys the small shelter, he checks the surrounding area. There's nothing moving that he can see and he takes a risk.
He judges how loud he needs to be to be heard and calls out, eyes sharp on his surroundings.]
I don't mean any harm. Just looking for shelter for the night.
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[Still, this place has made him paranoid. For good reason. But he does crack the door so he doesn't have to yell quite so loud and basically broadcast to the whole city there were living things this way.]
Of course Captain America doesn't mean any harm. But this isn't the America we saved from a crazy Norse god, is it? You bit, Cap?
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Stark?
[He frowns, what does that have to do anything? He's not exactly up to date on his zombie lore here.]
Bit? No, the suit's too thick for bugs.
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YOU SAW NO SPELLING ERROR
Survive. Like he was little more than another wretched human... But staying alive was a game he knew well. A game he could play with the best of them.
It's why he appears before Rogers, stepping out of the shadow and weak veil he cloaked himself in with hands raised.]
Peace, Captain. I mean no trouble.
WUT SPEEELING EROR?
Forgive him his suspicion, but being whisked away on the tail-end of a battle for the survival of the planet that had been your fault isn't helping him trust you.]
What do you want, Loki?
[Simple, to the point and his shield stays where it is, for now.]
EXACTA! Youdidn'tseeaaaaanythiiiing
[But none the less, expected. Loki keeps his hands in place as he takes a small step into the light.]
Peace, as I said. This is not the time to tear at each others throats.
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[A contained mess and the Chitauri had been dealt with, but still. It doesn't sit right with him. Steve frowns, this doesn't feel like his decision to make. It should be decided as a team but the team isn't here.
There's a long pause as he stares at Loki, just considering.]
And if I agree to peace, what will you do?
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[This was a new game, a different game and one he aimed to win. He would not fall victim to the mindless dead that stalked this wretched land.]
Offer an allience. This is not a place where a lone wolf can make do. Here he dies and the pack survives.
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[Steve's not stupid. As soon as something shinier comes along that suits Loki better he'll take it and leave them in the dust. The question is whether he should keep an eye on him so long as he has the opportunity. A yes, most likely.]
Fine, but I won't speak for anyone else. Just so we're clear. I won't lie to you, Loki. I'll take them over you any day.
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Barton has a knife in his hand, raised about to throw, which he instantly pulls back and down to his side when he recognizes Rogers.
He gives a military but somewhat less-than-crisp nod—]
Cap'n…
[—before the reason he's holding a knife not his bow becomes apparent: his other hand is gripping a bleeding wound under his ribs on his knife-throwing side. He drops the knife as his knees finally decide they've had enough and buckle under him.]
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Barton--
[Steve jumps forward on instinct and tries to catch the other man before he can collapse completely. They can't stay here; the priority is always somewhere safe.]
What happened? How bad is it?
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Should probably put some Bactine on it.
[Gives Rogers his nearest equivalent of a grin. Then it falls and he tightens his grip pointedly on the other's shoulder]
Just a knife, I think, but listen; if any of the mumbo jumbo I know is actually true, you'll off me if I start turning into one of those, right? I don't like watching my body do things while I'm not in charge.
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[He glances around, checking for more of the wandering dead and frowns at Barton. Steve only knows what he's heard since he's been here and none of it sounds good.
He hesitates, killing his teammate is pretty high on the list of things he's ingrained not to do. Still if Clint's not himself anymore... he gives the other man a tight-lipped nod.]
You have my word.
[It's not a decision that will be made lightly.]
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Barton abruptly stoops, as if doubling over, but straightens a moment later: it was only to retrieve the knife he'd dropped.]
A bandage would be great. Shall we get somewhere where that's likely? If we can get to higher ground we might be able to hop buildings…
[The side's still bleeding and Barton might need your support in not too long, but he'll run on his own as long as he can.]
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[Steve turns his gaze upwards to the rooftops, judging the gap above them and he leans back far enough to check the distances on the ones nearest to them. It's an easy jump for him, even with his abilities reduced, but he's not bleeding everywhere.]
Will you be able to manage?
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