calloperators | TEST DRIVE

> Hello, you have reached the 1-800-HOTLINE Test Drive. We are currently unable to take your call. Whilst we put you on hold, feel free to play around for a while...

***

Waking up
Where the hell were you last night? Maybe waking up in an unfamiliar bed with a blacked-out memory isn't so unusual for you, but that buzzing in your head is. The phone beside you rings with a 7:00 AM wake-up call, and a message left behind:

Go downstairs, to the lobby. Meet the others. Don't get attached, and don't mention this call.

The AC is busted and in this hot summer, you probably won't want to stay in your room forever.

What's new, Pussycat?
Of course, there's much more around here than just the motel. Stepping out and hitting the town will give you plenty to do. There's stores aplenty, but that's nothing to say of the good residents of the stores; your friendly neighborhood bodega cats. They're content to laze around the aisles, though the more playful sorts may swat at your wayward accessories as you pass by.

Don't mind that they seem to disappear - and reappear - with a blink. That's just something cats can do.

Hungry?
Of course you are! There's plenty of places to eat here, but why go to some no-name joint when you can go to McDonalds? They've got burgers, they've got fries, they've got McPizza, and they even have a playplace! ...Though you're probably too old for the ball pit.

Regardless of what you order, if you even order, the cashier presses a small toy into the palm of your hand. Don't you feel a pair of tiny eyes on you?

McMurder
For fuck's sake, someone only went and killed a guy in the McDonald's parking lot. Maybe his head is smashed in under that chicken mask, or maybe you'll want to check? You could do the right thing and work out who did this, or you could make off with his baseball bat. The choice is yours.

Night life
What good's a city that goes to sleep? When the sun goes down, the lights go up. The city becomes aglow with every colour of the neon rainbow, with bowling alleys, nightclubs, karaoke bars, arcades and soon-to-be-extinct roller discos competing for your attention until the sun comes up. You're here, there's no curfew, it's time to make the most of it.

Wildcard
Have something else in mind? Go wild, and party like it's 1989.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sorry Juno, Medic is completely ignoring whatever the fuck you have to say because this might be Scout and he is NOT fucking leaving his teammate behind in a shitty fast food parking lot to be scrutinized by incompetent cops.

He checks around the body's neck, first. Throughout his whole examination, he mutters to himself, just loud enough for Juno to hear him.]

No dogtags- could have been torn off to avoid identification- no hat, but he never wears the hat with a mask-

[Medic tugs the whole mask off, not even flinching at the raw hamburger appearance of the face underneath. Sorry, Mr. Steel.]

Headset is missing, too, but it could have been confiscated before arriving here- not wearing uniform, but we're not exactly on duty...

[Distantly, he can tell Juno is basically yelling at himself, but he doesn't bother listening. Medic's heard a lot of people talk to themselves or imaginary others- you don't become friends with Soldier without getting used to it.]

[Yeah, uh, that's going to cause Juno to react. His stomach churns as he immediately jolts back and tries to look away.]

Jesus fucking Christ--!

[He bites down the bile in his throat and takes a deep, shuddering breath to try and regain his composure. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about the fact that it looks horrifically like that one time media luminary Croesus Kanagawa got his head split in three by--]

You--You mind warning a lady before you go and do that? [His voice is slightly hoarse as he scrubs at his face.] The hell are you even talking about, do you even know this guy?

[Until Juno shouts out, Medic doesn't even think about, you know. The fact that this complete stranger might have an issue with seeing this guy's face. He grimaces, briefly.]

My apologies, my friend. I'm rather used to the sight myself.

[Medic gingerly lies the soiled chicken mask on top of the face.]

I might. That's what I'm trying to find out.

[He digs around in the dead man's pockets.]

Used to it--

[He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. This guy is either a murderer or some sort of first-aid responded. Or both. This is a goddamn nightmare situation.]

Can you at least tell me what you find? I'm a private eye, it's supposed to be my job to identify people and shit.

You appear to be in distress. Would you like me to administer serotonin to--

No, god dammit--why the hell don't they tell you how to fucking turn off these things?!

And I'm a doctor. It's my job to examine this corpse.

[Not... really, but ok.]

Turn off what?

[No wallet in the pockets, just a troll doll with neon green hair. He frowns at it, before handing it to Juno. It may or may not have blood on it. It's fine.]

[...Okay, so that confirms that. Juno runs a hand through his hair, an uneasy expression on his face.

--Oh. That's freaky. Juno stares at the doll for a moment before realizing Medic intends to hand it off to him. He rolls down his sleeve to cover his hand before he takes it. Some blood smudges onto his coat, and he shudders.]

This stupid robot eye. It hasn't done anything useful because it can't connect to the...thingies back home, and all it keeps doing is giving me useless suggestions and I swear to God if it doesn't shut up I'm going to rip it out of my goddamn eye socket.

[His voice lowers to a vicious growl--it's annoying enough that he has to deal with this whole phone call situation in the first place, but with this added on top?]

[Medic looks at properly Juno for the first time, and grins excitedly.]

Oooh. I can help take it out for you if you want! If I can obtain a donor eye, I can even give you a working replacement. Granted, I don't have most of my equipment here, but I've worked under worse conditions. I've had to glue skulls back together while being shot at. An enucleation should be a cinch!

Of course, I would like to examine the robotic eye itself first, but if it's really so bothersome for you at this point I can leave that to a minimum for now, and simply test it with another subject in the future.

[... Oh right there's a dead man.]

I'm not finding anything in particular to prove one way or another if this is my teammate...

[He sighs, rubbing at his forehead and wiping blood all over his face in the process.]

[At first, Juno perks up a little at the prospect of someone actually being able to help him, but it quickly becomes apparent that...some of the things that this guy is saying is somewhat concerning. This is his eye, and he doesn't want something awful to happen just because he wasn't patient enough to wait to be in a sterile environment.]

You know, I really don't think retooling this thing would be good for anyone's health. Can we leave it at that, please? I think I'd rather just live with an eyepatch and you can incinerate it forever.

[Juno glances down at the troll doll in hand, turning it over and frowning.]

...Huh. I got one of these guys from that machine in the convenience store. [A pause.] You think they might've just come from there and got jumped? But why would the murderer just leave the weapon here? Unless they were in a panic and....

[He trails off, eyebrows furrowing.]

Oh, alright. Whatever you wish, I suppose.

[:( @ no robot eye tests but at least he'll get to poke and prod at it a lil before removing it altogether, if Juno lets him do that much.]

Possibly, ja. If this is my teammate, however, then this baseball bat is his. That's his weapon of choice.

That's impossible. None of u--No one at the motel arrived with anything on them.

[...At least, that's what he's assuming. He hadn't actually asked and would hate to be proven wrong at this point.

He's not going to ask about the "teammate" thing.]

If you're a doctor and this guy is your teammate, wouldn't you...y'know, know other ways of identifying him besides weapons?

He could have sought out a baseball bat after arrival, ja? I know I don't feel safe without my weapons, and at least a baseball bat is easy to track down.

Ah, of course! Why didn't I think of that-

[And he just yanks the dead body's shirt off, staring critically at the bare chest for a moment. Medic sighs in obvious relief.]

It's not him. Scout has a terrible misspelled Tom Jones tattoo covering his whole torso. Thank God.

TEST DRIVE

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