revivalproject | Movies don't create psychos

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Movies don't create psychos

Who: Billy Loomis, OTA
What: New arrival
When: Post Mermaid Event (slightly forward dated)
Where: Fountain, Central Temba
Warnings: TBD, but I will direct people once again to his permissions.
Other: TDM threads can be canon, continued, or we can start fresh, however you like

Ghostface
A robed figure wearing a ghostly mask suddenly appeared by the fountain, and after the usual being drawn to touch the strange orb business, it made a show of patting itself down, looking for something that didn’t appear to be on their person. Nor was it anywhere around them.

The figure froze when he noticed he had an audience, head canting silently in a move that would have put Michael Myers to shame.

…Do you take that as invitation to approach?

We all go a little mad…
Billy Loomis really didn’t like change. Not when it wasn’t directed by his own hand. Kidnapped by fucking aliens had not even crossed his mind as an eventuality to prepare for, and now all of his plans-

The building he’d stolen away into was already a mess. It honestly stole a bit of the relief that came from letting loose and trashing the place, loud crashes and shouts of frustration filtering out into the street.

Breathing heavily and knuckles bloody, Billy managed to stop himself, pushing back his hair and trying to remake that mask of calm.

“What?” he snapped, catching the eye of whoever it was that had come to investigate.

Fountain
Having stashed the robes and mask away and let out some steam, Billy returned to the fountain almost instinctively. They all used to hang out by the fountain back home. It offered a sense of…familiarity, if not comfort. He frowned distantly, listening to the sound of the water as he tried to form a new plan. He had to get by here long enough to get back home. They’d worked too hard for all of this to go to waste.

He blinked back into awareness, lifting his gaze and expecting to find those familiar manic baby blues staring back at him. It took him a beat to shake himself from the fantasy. He looked the stranger over appraisingly, still lounging. “You one of the things that brought me here?” he asked, soft, but a very real threat in his eye.

Set Your Own Scene
(Got a better idea? You write us a starter! <3)

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The more Tony watched, the more he doubted that this was someone he knew, which made the refusal to talk even more inexplicable. Maybe they couldn't, like Celty--was that Celty? Definitely not. Tony would have recognized her figure even under a duvet. "No?" he interpreted. "No, this isn't a party? Come on, we're one striking gal away from an all-timer, don't be so hard on yourself." He had stopped, though, casually tucking his hands into his pockets in a sharp contrast to the electric stare he levelled at the mime.

It was a good guess. Not Celty specifically, but at least that whoever this was, they also couldn't or wouldn't speak. They couldn't help but think their partner would handle this better. Improv was more his style.

Ghostface's head tilted in consideration, before they countered that stare with a gesture at the floating orb of insane info-dumping and giving another questioning gesture, masked face looking around the ruins that surrounded them.

That could have been one of a million questions, and Tony clearly struggled with it more, eyes narrowed and mouth opening slowly as he tried to puzzle it out. "They're around," he eventually produced. "Just, you know, gotta know where to look." He lifted one hand to thumb over his shoulder as he offered, "I was just on my way to do some shopping, if you want to check there."

It was hard to emote things that weren't murder-y in this get up. But the figure looked around uncertainly at the invitation. They did need to learn the layout of this place if they were stuck here. And they were stuck in this costume until they could get a moment alone to stash it somewhere. So...sure. Fuck it.

The eerie mask nodded, taking a few steps and gesturing for Tony to take the lead.

The longer they committed to this act, the less Tony wanted to turn his back on them, which should have been pretty obvious in the way he pursed his lips and tilted his head expectantly, slow to turn until the masked figure caught up enough to stay in sight. They had a few blocks for Tony to work out the mystery, and he led with, "So, what's the deal? Are you too enthrallingly beautiful under there, showing me would be dangerous for us both?" That wasn't entirely out of the question; Tony knew some gods who really did think looking upon their enchanting visage drove mortals to madness. They were crazy, of course. He continued, "You can't tell me this is a secret identity thing, because that's going to be embarrassing in a few days, it's going to make things awkward, so you're better off coming up with a lie. I'll give you a minute."

Fair enough. People who turned their back on Ghostface tended to end up with a knife in their back. They moved their pace up so their new acquaintance could keep an eye on them, and there was a muffled snort beneath the mask at the query and a short nod. That had to be it. Obviously.

As for the secret identity...
Their head canted, wanting to know more about why exactly the man thought it wouldn't work for them. No one in Woodsboro had figured it out. But of course they had no way to ask without revealing more of themself.

Instead they gestured to the man and splayed their palms in inquiry, trying to coax out a name.

Muffled under the mask, it was hard to make out how much that snort could actually tell Tony. He wanted to think it wasn't a particularly feminine sound, but he loved if he could surprise a laugh like that out of a gal. All it really did tell him was that he might be able to make them laugh again, and get more of a noise that Tony could glean some information from. "Ah-ah," he replied, ticking a finger in the air, then sweeping a demonstrative hand down his flank, "this doesn't come off unless you buy me a drink."

The mask tilted, and underneath its wearer felt momentarily caught under a spotlight, like this stranger had seen right through both the costume and a whole lot more. They only belatedly registered the teasing and turned out the robe's pockets in response, attempting not to let that momentary panic give them away.

That lag could have been for any reason, but Tony still took advantage of it with a raised eyebrow and slow lick of his teeth. The money, of course, he was ready for that one, everyone seemed to take him so literally when it came to the money. Maybe it was the suit. "Don't worry," he said, flapping a hand and only mostly looking like he wasn't teasing anymore. "There's more of a hippie commune feel here, no one's prioritized printing money over making sure we're fed." He was back to giving the stranger that narrow, calculating look, watching for any indication that he had misread and this wasn't new information to them. Someone who had already been here a while might at least react to, "It's more of an ass or grass economy."

They gave annoyingly little away, one of the many benefits of the cheap costume. The phrasing was old but not so old they couldn't understanding the meaning, and there was another of those soft snorts in response. They only had one of those to offer after all.

They shook their head and made a drink motion at Tony, apparently having the same guidelines for what it took to get until the robes.

That wasn't much of a response, so it seemed like this person at least wanted Tony to think they were new in town. He gave a slow nod of understanding, flirtatiously measured, and hooked a finger to indicate they were almost at their destination, "Well, then, hopefully we find something." The big, flat building in front of them was either a research lab or department store, depending on how much experience one had with either. It had ended up being disappointing for Tony, but to furnish a new home, it had its uses.

Research lab was the furthest thing from Ghostface's mind, but frankly so was a department store. It felt so...normal. Not something one would see on a dead alien world.

They looked around in surprise, possibly confirming that suspicion that they were new around here. They wondered if they might find a replacement knife around here... They took a few steps and then stalled, wary about their new acquaintance leaving their sight.

It did seem like the place was new to them, so Tony took that hesitation as nerves and sauntered up alongside them for an encouraging pat to the back. If it lingered a little too long, that could have still been Tony flirting, not necessary another way of Tony trying to figure out what was under those clothes. "Come on, grab a cart, time to live out your wildest Saks fantasies. Do they have these, where you're from?" he pressed, then after a beat, added, "Or Saks? Fifth Avenue? Everything you need. Perfume, jewellery, shoes..."

The figure tried to shy away from the touch, not keen to give away anymore clues about themselves than they all ready had. They nodded though. They had all of those, though they were well beyond the budget or interest of this Ghostface.

What they needed was knife. But again, asking would give away the plot too soon. After being still for a beat in thought, they pantomimed the standard 'movie' gesture from charades and tilted their head.

The mime was clear enough to Tony, he just doubted he understood, making him hesitate and mirror the head tilt before he had to ask, "You want a movie? Like, to watch? I don't think they really did that here. The local culture, the only preserved media we've really found is the datapoints, like the one by the fountain. You'd have to ask around, sweetheart, see if anyone brought something like that with them. I can make a lot of things, but I haven't tried a movie, yet."

No movies? What kind of advanced alien culture didn't even have movies??? The mask couldn't quite convey the shock the wearing underneath felt, but the abrupt head swivel might have given some idea.

They didn't know all the classics. They didn't know the rules. None of it... That wasn't right. Ghostface was going to need to remedy that. Maybe that was why they'd been taken.

Once again, they eyed Tony and considered making a show of the genre right then and their for their captors. But they hadn't got this far by being rash. They nodded and gestured down an aisle, moving to explore and ready to pull a disappearing act.

Movies had not even made the list of priorities in the entire time Tony had been stuck in this situation, so the reaction had him frowning, sure he hadn't really understood. His costume friend was moving on, though, and leaving Tony to puzzle over it himself as he drifted very casually down the next aisle, where he could hear the person still moving as long as he stepped lightly and kept alert. "Do you need a camera?" he tried instead. "Some kind of recording device? That's how you talk?" It wasn't entirely farfetched. That had been how Jon ate.

A camera. Now there was an idea. They could make their own movies. Of course, there was only one genre they enjoyed. But it would be so very easy to recreate their favourites here...

Those steps continue until abruptly there was silence, as though they had simply disappeared all together in an instant.

Tony didn't necessarily expect an answer. He hadn't expected total silence, either, and he stopped as well, straining to hear any movement, and trying to look casual by picking up a dusty...thing from the shelf. He raised a lip in disgust, not sure what to make of it, and was quick to put it back down, which meant he was really lagging by the time he tried to not appear as though he was hurrying ahead to peer around the corner, back down the aisle where the costumed person had gone. "Or you just don't, didn't mean to imply otherwise..." he tried to continue conversationally.

That eerie silence continued, and the aisle was empty, as if the masked freak had just...turned into smoke or something. Or maybe Tony had imagined them completely. After all, how could someone disappear like that so completely? It was one of Ghostface's better tricks, and definitely added an air of the mystical to an otherwise fairly typical slasher.

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Movies don't create psychos

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