JUNE 1ST - 3RD | AFTER THE ACCIDENT |
There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the
screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.
It's also the
last thing you remember from before waking up.
When you open your eyes, the accident is gone, replaced with white sterility. Perhaps somewhat alarming at first, until you blink at your surroundings and realize that you're in a hospital bed. You try to move but are sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember receiving, not to mention the possibility of the partially healed remnants of other, seemingly older wounds.
It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog where they're not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.
If the room happens to be empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma from the accident. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave.
Then you'll be left alone. Or maybe you'll find yourself visited by loved ones: family, or friends. You've lived here much or all of your life, so of course you have those things. Of course they already remember you being here, and may remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious.
Either way, the hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You might hear talk around the hospital of other small population spikes over the past few days, though many patients appeared to be well enough to be released the same day, and the same might be said of you. Or at least the staff doesn't seem to be too concerned. You can even leave your room without much fuss, any doctor or nurse that might try to intercept you getting called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.
Of course, it's not so unusual to settle in until you're discharged, either. You may choose to wait for loved ones to come pick you up, even speak to your fellow patients, whether roommates or others wandering the halls. The more enterprising and suspicious might even consider it an opportunity to poke around for a few basic answers.
JUNE 1ST - 4TH | GETTING USED TO HOME AGAIN |
However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is just a bit crisp, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little mountain town of Wayward Pines, though that might just be some sort of side effect from your accident. Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and slightly waterlogged from the recent flood. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It probably depends on how clothed you were when you left the hospital.
This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "
Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize (could be a good direction to head in, though — maybe it'll jog your memory), and one that you might: Wayward Pines Sheriff's Department. You've likely caught wind by now that any clothing or other items you had on you at the time of your accident are being held by the Sheriff until you're well enough to claim them. Not to mention the keys to your home, kept locked and safe at the station for you. That should probably be your next stop, though if anything's missing in what they hand over you'd be the last to know.
It's time to get home, to recover from your ordeal and try to sort through your memories. Do you remember this house, the pictures of family on the walls and how to navigate to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Maybe it's easier with loved ones living with you, helping you get settled, or maybe you're on your own. Either way, over the next few days it's a good idea to try to remember your routines, to get out and finally visit Main Street if you haven't already. Maybe you even remembered that you work in one of the more familiar sounding shops, or elsewhere in town. Makes sense they'd give you some time off to recover and get reacclimated to your life here, but eventually you should probably get back to work. You haven't seen your co-workers in a few days, and besides, you have to be able to put bread on the table.
JUNE 5TH | GLUG GLUG'S GRAND OPENING! |
Town hall is listening, and town hall has heard you loud and clear (their surveillance equipment is of the highest quality, after all). While there appears to have been some... clerical issues and red tape concerning the highest voted name, when the fifth rolls around the newly completed and lovingly anointed
Glug Glug's opens its doors to the public for the official grand opening!
For an old diner, this place has undergone an amazing transformation, with a ground, second, and basement floor all open to the public and offering a wide variety of entertainment options within:
The ground floor features a long bar along one wall where one can order coffee, tea, soda, hot chocolate, whatever your little caffeinated heart desires, as well as alcoholic drinks 10% or under — provided you can show some form of ID, of course. Linda, perched at the bar with a mimosa in hand, will tell anyone who listens that
she voted for Pubby McPubface, but honestly, who's listening to Linda, anyway? Pastries and small appetizers are also available at half price for the special event, and card and board games make inviting and colorful centerpieces on the tables scattered around the room (there are classics like Monopoly and the rousing game of Jenga in the corner, amongst less common fare you
may not have played before, like Cards Against Humanity and Settlers of Catan).
A lounge on the second floor overlooks the ground floor and features plush couches and chairs, ambient lighting and a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere to contrast with the low buzz of activity below. A small balcony out back provides a peaceful, quiet view of some of the very pines after which our town was named.
The basement is where anyone interested will find music, dance, billiards and booze. A small stage on one end features regular local live performances, with a vast stretch of the room devoted to a dance floor and just a few private booths set into the wall around the edges. The bar down here serves the harder stuff to those that can prove they're old enough to be handling it, and one corner of the room is devoted to a billiards table and two large pinball machines.
Technically the basement level is open to all ages, but getting down there requires showing your ID and getting your hand stamped, and anyone under 16 is
highly encouraged to be accompanied by an adult. And, of course, anyone caught sneaking drinks to minors will be summarily kicked out, as well as reported to Sheriff Griffith for a good talking to about, you know, civic duty and such. It's honestly not worth it, you
know how he goes on.
Today is supposed to be a party after all, let's not spoil it just yet.
MOD NOTES
Welcome to our fifth mingle log for newbies and oldbies alike!
This log is meant to cover characters' first five days in Wayward Pines. Characters for this round will appear staggered in the hospital between the
1st and the
3rd, and a CR building event will occur on the
5th, after everyone has had a suitable amount of time to get settled in town. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although their false Wayward Pines memories may also begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the week wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.
PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE:
Character Name,
date,
location, and
Open or
Closed, to help keep things organized and make your character easy to find.
If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.
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pineslog2017-05-31 09:13 pm
INTRODUCTION LOG
Wade Wilson | June 1 | Hospital; Town | OTA
[If this is heaven, then the powers that be have a pretty fucked up sense of humor.
Wade wakes up from chaotic dreams of noise and bright lights and pain to the decidedly unpleasant view from a hospital bed. Not really the position that one wants to be in under any circumstances, least of all someone who's had a fear of hospitals since as far back as he can remember. Which... isn't really all that far back, if he's gonna be perfectly honest. Attempting to rack his brain for anything approaching familiar causes the pain in his head to reach "Mama June doing the Riverdance in stiletto heels" levels of intensity, and so he gives up after a while. Works on his breathing. Attempts to slow his heart rate.
Waits for an opportunity.
Fortunately, in a complete reversal of how normal hospitals operate, he doesn't have to wait all that long to get discharged. All it takes is a nurse too frazzled and stressed from the apparent influx of patients to really concentrate on what she's doing. Poor dear. Her day's about to get a whole lot shittier.
Feigning sleep, Wade watches her through half-closed eyelids as she goes through the motions of checking his vitals on the EKG, adjusts his bedding; takes his blood pressure for what Wade’s sure is the millionth time. What, no changing his bedpan? God, the service in here is shit. There’s nothing on his face to give himself away when he slowly slips the IV needle out of his arm, holding the tube tightly to prevent any suspicious leakage. It’s hard to remain still like this, when every nerve ending in his body is telling him to get the fuck outta dodge before they decide to get flighty with a syringe, but Wade knows the value in being patient. Sometimes. Occasionally. In this instance, anyway. He holds his improvised weapon tightly in one hand and waits.
Patients and hospital workers alike are no doubt startled to hear a shrill scream coming from one of the rooms, and are even more startled to see the man with the horrific skin condition dragging one of the nurses backwards toward the exit, IV tube wrapped tightly around her neck; IV stand trailing awkwardly behind them. His tone is almost unnervingly conversational.]
Okay guys, just keep doin’ what you’re doin’! Just a little patient transference goin’ on, nothin’ to see here! Anyone takes one fucking step towards me and a garrote-induced hickey is only gonna be the second-worst thing to happen to Nurse Betty here, understand?
ii. Gonna take a walk without a sound
[Well. This place is certainly giving him some severe Stephen King vibes. All that’s left now is for Tim Curry dressed in a clown suit to come out of the forest and terrorize the populace. But at least he’s free of that godforsaken deathtrap they call a hospital. Wade’s almost disappointed at how easy it was to escape-- almost like he hadn’t needed such a flashy exit in the first place. But hell if he was just gonna sneak outta there like some sorta second-rate jewel thief. He’s got standards to maintain, after all. He thinks, anyway-- his memory's a little fuzzy at the moment.
Wade ditches his convenient Rent-a-Hostage fairly quickly, briefly watching her scurry off down the street before setting his sights in the opposite direction. Every journey began with a single step, as Confucius once said-- or was that John Denver? Whatever, it wasn’t important, and Wade’ll be damned if he’s gonna walk the whole way to… wherever the fuck he was going when he ended up here. All he needs to do is find himself a nice ride, preferably with the keys still left in it.
Apologies to anyone who spots the hideously scarred man in a hospital gown walking around town with his ass hanging out. He’s just passing through, honest.]
ii. Gonna take a walk without a sound
She picks up her clothes from the police station, finding a white backless dress waiting for her and a set of white stilettos. The fabric is soft and comfortable against her skin and her uneasiness begins to ebb.
Justine doesn't have expectations of the town. It's how she remembers and yet there are pieces that appear out of place. One of those pieces is a man walking in a hospital gown with his ass hanging out. She isn't bothered by the deformation but interested in the way he scouts the area.
She steps up next to him, her head canting to the side and spilling midnight black hair over her shoulder.] Looking for something? [She asks in a sweet voice.]
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For his part, Wade doesn't see anything odd about the situation, which may actually shed some light on the sanity thing. He answers without looking at her, focused on his task.]
A clue, for one thing. Wait-- first a Taco Bell, then a clue. Can't really think that well on an empty stomach an' that slop they call hospital food ain't somethin' I'd wish on my worst enemy.
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I wouldn't wish Taco Bell on my worst enemy. [Her voice remains sweet with humor and curiosity lacing elegantly between her words. Her dark eyes continue to watch him wondering just what he's planing to do.
Justine can't say why but she's used to oddities. The courts, the silent battles fought by using the mind over strength. For some reason seeing Wade in his current state, set to his current task, doesn't phase her in the least.]
I'd offer my help- {She begins in an easy voice, gently pulling her hair over her shoulder.] -but it looks like you have a plan.
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[Wade would know, of course. He still has very vivid memories of his time in the hospital for his chemotherapy sessions, being treated to a steady diet of medicine, meals and mind-shriveling boredom. There were only so many episodes of Oprah you could endure before you wanted to chew your own leg off.
In response to her second remark, he pauses, muttering almost to himself.]
I've got like... one-fifths of a plan. That's about as much as I need to go on. Know of anywhere I can get clothes and stuff first, though? I'm feelin' kinda exposed here, not gonna lie.
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You should have listened at the hospital.
[Her voice is sweet and warm and somehow not sounding like an insult.]
Your affects are at the police station. I can show you the way if you'd like.
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Well excuuuuuse me, princess-- some of us have priorities over listenin' to assholes with medical degrees get off on hearin' themselves talk. Besides, s'not like anyone was in the mood for exposition after the state I left that place in.
[He grows silent; contemplative.]
Feel bad about that nurse in retrospect, but hey-- the bruises should heal up pretty quickly.
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I don't mind the name princess. [Her voice is light.] I was lucky though. My brother picked me up from the hospital.
[She isn't going to go into the implications that carry along with her statement so she steps forward and continues.] Can I lead you there? I know the way. I can also prevent any more bruises to those who tempt your anger. [Justine finds it's easier to get what you want by talking with people.]
ii.
but that face is unavoidably recognizable, and he's calling out to him before he even thinks about it, wracking his head for the last time he'd run into deadpool and honestly coming up blank.]
You trying out a new look? Gotta say I don't think it suits you as much as the red.
[whether he can remember or not hardly even matters with deadpool anyway, half the time he still didn't know what the guy was on about]
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[This dude talks as if he knows him, walks right up to him as if they've been friends for years instead of just strangers meeting each other for the first time; even seems to know him enough to single out his apparent customary wardrobe. The weird thing is, Wade thinks he knows him too-- he's got one of those faces that should be recognizable, but hell if Wade can put a name to the face.]
You like the look? I think I'm kinda goin' for a "just escaped from a mental institution" thing here. Comes with a free Martha Stewart-brand ankle monit-- whoa.
[Yeah, guess who just clued in to the fact that his skin ain't exactly looking all that healthy. Wade checks his arms, twisting them this way and that as he stares at the extensive discoloration and scarring. That at least explains all the horrified looks he was getting at the hospital. Well, aside from the fact that he was giving a nurse a vigorous drive-by epiglottis massage at the time.]
The fuck is this, The English Patient? Did I stay too long in a tanning bed or something?
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deadpool's wearing a hospital gown and surprised about his own skin which means:] Let me guess, you were in an accident, right? Having trouble remembering some things?
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...Okay, let's review. Wade's just woken up from a horrible nightmare (he doesn't remember the details, only that it was violent and intense as hell) in a hospital where no one could give him any answers beyond "you've been in an accident", as if that was supposed to explain everything. Then, after busting out of the sterilized prison and ending up in a town he doesn't recognize at all, some random Schmoe walks right up to him and starts talking to him like he knows him.
Is it any wonder that Wade decides to grab him; shove him against the nearest building? If only he had a weapon. He feels naked without one.]
That's a little too good for a guess, Clouseau. Wanna start explaining?
ii. my new buddy
Chew, chew, chew.]
.....
Puedo ver tu culo.
[Put your cheeks away, you're offending the youths.]
god you just made me so happy
Still, it's a problem. Wade's been called many names: cold-hearted mercenary, blood-sucking murderer; soulless psychopath. He definitely doesn't wanna have "blatant sex offender" added to his already high list of unofficial monikers.]
Wha-- shit!
[He barely rests his eyes on the young girl before he realizes the problem, and in a sort of embarrassed panic he fumbles at the thin strips of fabric holding his gown together, tying them more securely and relieving the town of Wherever-the-Fuck-This-Is of the sight of his pockmarked posterior. Chagrined, Wade rounds on Laura, his tone defensive and sullen but lacking much less bite than it would have if she were an adult.]
No tuve tiempo de parar y comprar ropa, ¿de acuerdo? ¡Dame un descanso!
Don't worry pal she's got your back
No es gran cosa.
[We all have asses.
She studies him quietly.]
... How did you end up there. In the hospital?
[They all have their strange stories, anyway. Laura had gotten hit by a car. Her father was in a motorcycle accident. Well... if you believe the crap they feed you. Laura doesn't trust this place anymore. As far as she can throw it, even.]
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Her question, however, gives him some pause.]
I was kinda more concerned with the fact that I was there than how I got there, if I'm gonna be honest. The gal I roped into helpin' me out wasn't exactly the talkative type.
I mean she was, but it definitely wasn't anything approaching helpful. Just your standard "please don't hurt me" and "I'm just a temp" and "I can't breathe". You'd think she'd never been choked by an IV line before, geez.
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[She stares long and hard at him, cool as a cucumber behind her cupcake shades.]
....
I punched the doctor in the face and jumped out the window.
[She offers him to take a potato chip. Want some?]
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Wade's somewhat mollified when she shares her own violent hospital experience; when she points the chip bag in his direction like someone presenting a peace offering. Wade reaches into the bag and takes a chip, feeling weirdly like this is some sort of friendship ritual they'd just undergone.
She doesn't seem perturbed by the scarring.]
Thanks. [Said before popping the chip into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for a moment, and then speaks again.] So is this a regular thing for people here? Just wakin' up in a hospital all 28 Days Later style with no memory of how you got there?
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Yes.
The reason why we do depends... if you care if you get in trouble or not.
[The cameras are always watching, and you do get in trouble for discussing it.
What say you, Wade? She doesn't care if they know she's critical. But some like to keep their noses out of trouble.]
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He's an idiot.
Besides, they've probably already got him on criminal abduction at this point anyway.]
I'm listenin'.
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We never lived here.
[Of this, she's mostly sure. The memories that trickle in here and there tell her as much — and the memory that had returned to them all not so long ago, of gurneys, of experiments...]
They put trackers in our legs and clear our memories.
They make us think we lived here. But it's all wrong.
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i. i'd recognize that ass anywhere if i could remember anything
He checked on the nurse to make sure she was OK— a little shaken up, but otherwise unharmed— before striding out the front door with little resistance. Especially after that performance. Even so, there seemed to be little to no effort to stop the crazy guy from flouncing out the door. Seeing the guy still wandering up ahead, he figures he might as well try and jog his own memory while he's at it. ]
Hey!
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Wade is too lost in his own thoughts to even register what's going on around him-- a dangerous position to be in as a mercenary, but he's muddled through with this condition before... hasn't he? There are gaps in his memory. That alone wouldn't have bothered him-- he knows enough about himself to know that sometimes he forgets what he's had for breakfast yesterday-- but that revelation coupled with the disorienting feeling of being in an unfamiliar place is setting off warning bells that he's sure he usually ignores.
This whole memory loss thing is giving him a headache. It's almost a relief when someone behind him calls after him and distracts him from his introspection. Wade responds to the call by breaking into a hurried jog, which undoubtedly looks ridiculous considering the back of his hospital robe is currently wide open, edges fluttering in the open air.]
No thanks! Gave at the office, fuck you very much!
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That was quite a performance you put on back there!
[ He has to call out to him slightly, trailing behind him. Partial teasing, partial genuine commentary, one has to admit that it was kind of funny. ]
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What, you want an autograph or somethin'? The hell was I supposed to do, lie around and wait for some Doogie Howser motherfucker to stick tubes and whatnot up my hows-yer-father? No thanks. Had enough of that for several lifetimes, if I gotta be honest with ya.