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test drive meme

Test Drive Meme The Pan Pacific Defense Corps was usually offered any of a variety of local buildings to set up their testing centers. For reasons of access and availability, most testing clinics were set up in central areas for any given community. Those of the PPDC staff on hand vary in their personal intensity. Some of the men and women wearing Strike Group insignia seemed overly serious, to the point of frowning with intensity at some of the youngest checking in for this testing round. Those from the K-Science division are tight with nervous energy as they direct prospective cadets through various activities. Everything was meant to measure potential, looking for that spark that meant they had somebody who was Drift Compatible. The majority of people were turned away after the first series of seemingly random tests, officials looking in eyes, placing odd looking contraptions over heads, asking for people to play a series of short games, one even in a virtual reality set-up.

	( SCENARIO ONE ) If you are still here now, you've made it past the first cut. You'll be sat down in a room with the rest who have made it this far, then systematically led into smaller interview rooms as pairs. If you came with a partner, they're your first interview candidate. If you came on your own, all your interviews are random assignment. All who have been asked to stay are required to sit through and conduct a series of short peer to peer interviews. The questions are straightforward. What is your least favorite color? Which tool in a standard toolbox is most useful to you? What time of day do you accomplish the most? Do you have children? What do you believe the Drift is like? Peer to peer interviews last for half an hour to an hour, and each person is asked to participate in at least three peer-to-peer interviews. There is no punishment for going off script. There is a one-way mirror looking into each interview area, and one door leading into the room with a small panel of glass located on the door. There is a clock on the wall in each room. The time they report is odd, when examined. These are not digital clocks, but timers, counting up time since the last Kaiju attack.

	( SCENARIO TWO ) Congratulations! You have been judged Drift Compatible, and sent home to pack after giving a definite yes to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. The next thing you face down is the flight into Santiago, Chile, and the subsequent drive in to Valparaíso's Shatterdome. You and the rest of the crowd of soon to be PPDC Ranger Cadets have been gathered together to wait for the old bus scheduled to take you to the Shatterdome. While waiting in the open air, those from any Northern Hemisphere countries may find the summer weather strange. Today's high is going to be in the upper 80's, and there's not a cloud to be seen that's not clinging to the distant mountains. Welcome to Chile. When the bus arrives, it's another hour ride out toward the coastline to get to the Shatterdome. Even better? The bus Air Conditioner is broken. Safe travels, Cadets!

Please set up your own scenarios as you like. The above two scenarios are suggestions. Anything goes!

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She doesn't seem mad, so the vague contrition fades out of him and he relaxes. He shakes his head.

"It's not a big deal," he brushes the question off. He hadn't really thought about it. "There's another one left, I think."

Maybe. There were a few free tables when he came in earlier, one less shouldn't hurt. Even if there aren't, it's not that big a deal. Hell, he has no problems sitting on the floor if he has to. The library assistants sure seem to have problems with it, but since they don't do much about it but give him long-suffering and weary looks if he resorts to it, he hasn't broken the habit. He's never looked—or acted—the part of the traditional bookish type. He has, however, always found himself saddled with a healthy measure of curiosity, and he's never had much shame about pursuing it.

Which means, now that he's gotten her question out of the way, he continues to study her setup with unabashed and obvious nosiness and asks—

"You're going to read all these?"

It's either a comment on the quantity or the content or the fact that they're not even all in the same language. (Thanks to his father's side of the family he knows a few words of German, but only really the incredibly impolite ones. He can't make heads or tails of French.) Or all three at once. Blunt, but not skeptical, at least not in a way that means to be accusing. If anything he's a little impressed.

Edited (corrects self belatedly) 2014-01-30 02:12 (UTC)

"A screwdriver?" Tenpou leans back in his chair until it's balanced on two legs, then adjusts his grease-smudged glasses to get a better look at her. What did she said her name was? Francine? Frenchie? Something like that, anyway. "I see. A screwdriver accomplishes the same purpose as a hammer, but with more finesse and somewhat less brute force." He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the mirrored wall, and adds: "You know, Francine, you get more points if you expand on the answers a bit. I've been on the other side of that glass more than once... I've already failed Ranger screening three times, actually!" Tenpou says it with a hint of pride.

"So let's see..." he begins, returning to he original point of the conversation. "What time of day do you accomplish the most? Hmm... any time of day. I don't need sleep as long as there's coffee." This, of course, is ridiculous - even if Tenpou doesn't sleep in his bed (which is covered in Chinese takeout containers in various stages of decomposition and fossilization), he still tends to pass out at random in his lab or in the cafeteria. But those little catnaps don't count. "How about you? You strike me as a morning person."

Across the aisle from her she would find her perfect foil. His posture was as stiff as hers was relaxed, his brows furrowed as he focused on the cadet handbook in his lap. Occasionally he would look up but he had no interest in the scenery. He focused on the other cadets instead, eyeing them when he thought no one was watching, sizing up each of his companions in turn. He was going to be stuck with them for quite some time, after all. Best to know what he was getting into.

He jumped a little when the girl addressed him, which was ridiculous. It's not like there was anything to feel guilty about.

"No thank you." He gave the lollipop a dubious look. "I'm not fond of sweet things."

Despite his response, Leila begins pulling the books closer to her, piling some on top of the other until a substantial surface on the desk starts to show up. Satisfied with the result (as minor as it is), she gestures for him to take a seat before she takes one herself. She doesn't really mind if he waits there for his friend and while she rarely seeks the company of others, it's refreshing to have someone with her once in a while.

"Not all of them, no. I'll never escape the library if I did." She chuckles at the thought of that (since she'll probably never hear the end of it from the library assistants) and opens the atlas, flipping through the pages until she gets to the map of the Pacific Ocean and the countries surrounding it. Already, there's a sticky note stuck on it somewhere on the lower half of the page. She soon opens another, placing it side by side.

"Er, these ones over here —" She waves a hand over a bigger section of the pile. "— have just one or two articles I need as references."

For what, she's a bit hesitant to say. After all, this is simply what she considers as "light reading". Not exactly a homework or a project that one of her classes require but supplementary knowledge. And more often that not, she's gotten questionable looks once she's dropped that information. Instead, she gives him another smile before she starts taking down notes.

"What about you? Here for homework?"

He frowns a little when she clears him a space anyway, but sits. Mostly so he can lean over the table to watch as she flips through the atlas and makes notations.

"Yeah, mostly," he confirms her guess in good humor. He'd always done decently enough in school, but the physics and advanced mathematics and such involved in qualifying to pilot take a lot of slowing down on his part to comprehend. And slowing down is not a thing he does very easily on his own, which is why Armin's been tutoring him in the evenings. None of this, though, is anything he recognizes having studied during the day. Not yet, anyway.

"Is that what all this is?" he asks, "Homework?"

( Scenario 1 )

To the average onlooker, the young woman sitting in the chair awaiting her interview partner looked calm. Collected. With her perfect posture and her hands folded neatly in her lap, yet the thin line of her mouth betrays her anxiety.

She had little worry about being able to meet the physical demands that were required of a good cadet, but Drift Compatibility was another matter entirely. Aside from a select few, Mikasa wasn't exactly quick to make friends and rarely opened up to others. But she couldn't let that get in her way. What a joke, to get turned away from the academy because she had trouble connecting with others.

It's not off to a warm and endearing start, though, and she only offers her partner a small nod in greeting as they sit down across from her before turning her attention to the sheet of sample questions and clearing her throat, "What's your least favorite color?"

So much for introductions.

( Scenario 2 )

She'd only just cut her hair for the convenience of it (and because a certain someone suggested it), but it's hard not to be grateful when she's waiting to file onto the bus waiting to take them to the Shatterdome in the blistering hot weather of Chile.

It doesn't stop her from wearing her signature red scarf, though it's only loosely looped around her neck. She's just about to climb onto the first step of the bus when a strong gust of wind picks up the scrap of fabric and carries it off- and directly into the face of a poor soul farther back in line.

( Scenario 2 part 2 )

It turns out stepping out of line to retrieve your scarf is a good way to end up at the back, and with a poor choice in seats left to choose from. There's a handful in the front, but her sights are set for the back of the bus, where a certain fellow recruit by the name of Jaeger was seated by the window.

He'd yell at her if he knew her criteria for seating, but it didn't stop her from approaching one of the last half-empty bench seats in the back. Maybe the person sitting there already was saving it for someone else, or were just hoping to get a bench all to themselves but they'll soon find themselves with company.

"Is this seat taken?" It's more a formality than anything because she's not waiting for a yes before sliding into the seat next to them.

She momentarily pauses at that, her pen hovering just above the paper. She supposes it counts as homework. Sort of, kind of. Personal homework that's not exactly assigned to her by someone else.

"You could say that, yes," she replies slowly, nodding. "... Tactics class."

Her hand starts moving again across the notepad, brows furrowing as she looks up a specific term. There. She's said it. Anyone who's taking said class would realize that no homework was given earlier that day and that she's probably (most likely) doing something completely unnecessary, never mind that it's part of her studies. Possibly that's why people seem to think she's too difficult to approach since she's too - for the lack of a better word - serious.

"Hearing implies one sense." Andrea kept her forward lean, leaving this as a conversation she was choosing to engage in for the moment. There wasn't any reason to do otherwise. Mike's curiosity was fairly common. "It's a little more involved than that. I don't just hear Jacqueline. I know, and I feel, and I understand and see all while the parts of thought that comes across in something other than words are bringing us to an understanding. I know her, and she knows me."

She brought her hands up, lacing her fingers together slowly, until her hands were clasped in front of her. Andy looked at her conjoined fingers, then across the table, to Mike.

"You're so tightly bound up together when you're in a strong Drift, you don't have to find time to lay things out logically. You know who you are, and you know who your partner is, and you simply do."

She was used to the recognition by now, though had she had her way, she'd have been further removed from the spotlight. Rangers didn't really have the option, but Andrea didn't thrive under the attention in the way Jacqueline did.

"Nice to meet you, Yuri." Her own handshake was equally firm, and her posture equally relaxed. Being here as part curiosity, part favor, she knew all she was doing was filling in time while the minds behind the gambles and calculations did their work.

She shot Yuri a half smile.

"I must have at one point, if I'm sitting here now. Though lucky for me, today's not about putting me through the grinder. That's more your honor of the hour." Her tone of voice comes across as dry in amusement, not unfriendly, but aware of the overall situation. "Dubious as it may be. Feel like kicking us off, or would you like me to pull from the list at random?"

"Not lame at all," she says, giving him her serious regard. "Admitting you don't know when you have or not is one step along the way to figuring out your personal best."

Something he'd have to do, or he'd flake out of the Academy early on. Nothing about the program allowed for coddling. Andrea didn't feel it should, not given what demands and expectations fell down the line on Ranger shoulders.

The fame might seem appealing, but riding with your legs straddling a nuclear reactor (Mach dependent, of course) and standing as a first and last line of defense between innocent, defenseless lives and a creature that kept on killing even after it died left little illusion in Andy's eyes as to what they were doing out there. Winning would be the cocky answer. Staving off a force of nature was her own personal one.

"How do you feel about sports? Played any, like watching some, anything like that?"

Raleigh Becket wasn't there to be a Cadet. He'd already put in his time, done the hard work, and you know what? It'd paid off. The opening of a second Academy was a great idea. The program was expanding and they needed to broaden their efforts as much as possible to gather the best recruits. And while it was great, the last thing Raleigh ever expected was to be reassigned to the Valparaíso Shatterdome.

But he and Yancy weren't the only ones. Having worked well together before, both Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka were reunited to work in tandem and protect the new recruits when the complex opened. And, strategically, it wasn't a bad position to be in. Sure, Raleigh missed home and was pretty sure the heat and humidity might kill him most days, but it was something he could adapt to. And he had always been good at that.

And besides, he liked being right in the thick of the action. Having been through it all before, he was interested in seeing what came out of the new Academy, play with the new tech, maybe even hold a few open sparring sessions. He knows that part of being a Ranger is PR. He knows he stands for something, for a lot of things, actually, and while he's done more ridiculous photo shoots and magazine interviews and chat show appearances than he can count, he absolutely loves his job. Because he gets to wake up every day knowing he's doing something with his life. He's saving the world and he and his brother are doing it in a 260 foot Jaeger.

And they're damn good at it.

And being that guy in front of new hopefuls is inspiring. Being the beacon, the thing to work towards, it's pressure, sure, but he doesn't mind. What could be more pressure than a one on one fist fight with a giant alien monster?

So when the new Cadets arrived, he and his brother were there to receive them with a handshake and an effortless smile. They don't have to introduce themselves, there's not a person alive who doesn't know the pilots of Gipsy Danger. They're household names. And while they might be incredibly famous, they don't bite. Go ahead and say hello.

I; You've just arrived and have been herded into the reception hall. The Beckets are there greeting and shaking hands, chatting, even signing autographs and taking selfies with people. Go ahead and introduce yourself. You're going to be sharing space for a while.

II; Missed them at reception? That's fine. Raleigh is out and about by himself most evenings getting his bearings of the complex. It's just as new for him as it is for you.

III; Bet you want to see a Jaeger up close and personal. Sorry, you're probably not allowed in the hanger, but if you ask nicely he might show you a window he's found where you can get a glimpse of Gipsy and Striker.

IV; Got some questions about what it's like to be a Ranger? To Drift? He's your man. Raleigh will talk about his love for the job until he's blue in the face and keep going even then.

V; Wildcard. Turn a tight corner and run into him head first? kick a rock and he walked in the way at the absolute worst possible moment? A member of the Raleigh Becket Fan Club~? Come at me, bros.

Edited 2014-01-30 09:03 (UTC)

It's no secret that Eren is taking this really seriously. There's something incredibly frustrating about the past few years—that despite (because of?) the fact that humanity can now stand up for itself, the war has seemed to dial down in intensity. A kaiju attack has somehow stopped being an outrage and a threat and become, in a way, routine (and marketable.) Like a natural disaster, if hurricanes sold action figures. The public air of complacency is stifling.

So in some way, he can appreciate the sentiment. In others—

"That's bullshit," he turns back to watch the front of the bus, less sharp, but his hands are still drawn into fists. "It's still our world. We always had the right. That hasn't changed just because they tried to take it away."

"I can't think of any other reason why I should dislike a color," he says, rather flippantly. "Personally speaking, they've all done me quite well."

"You don't say!" Tamaki's eyes widened. The mystery of the mystery meat went even deeper than he could had imagined. How exciting!

Ngaio snorts, glad not to be the only one who's tired (she thinks), and shakes his hand. Despite how small her hand is, her handshake is firm and confident. "Ngaio." She articulates it clearer than she would normally, hopeful that he'll catch the nasal ng at the start even though experience has taught her most English speakers default to bio with an N.

"So, Mike." She's going to meet a lot of new people here, might as well try to remember some names. "What are you in for?" She indicates the bus, meaning the Jaeger Academy at large, with a nod of her head.

"Grind away," he offered with wry tone. He wasn't particularly anxious about the interview--he bought that there were no wrong answers, except maybe trying to strangle your interview partner--and he wasn't the type to get starstruck, either. He did want to say something about Telluride, thank her at least, but there was no rush. If the conversation didn't stray that way now he could always find her later.

He had a more pressing question to ask a pilot who had experienced the Drift, but he would wait for the conversation to head toward that direction naturally, too. Jumping too fast on the particular question he wanted to ask could raise some flags.

"Straight into it, then?"

Amelia smiles, amused; the knowledge that she's not really being assessed for Drift Compatibility probably contributes to her relaxed posture. She's not sure whether she's in the interview rooms because the PPDC really does want all their psych staff to get a sense of the assessments from the other side of things or because her department wants to have a laugh at the newbie's expense. Either way, she's okay with it - knowing what the cadets go through probably is useful, and maybe she can try and put this poor girl at ease.

She places her hands and elbows on the table, drumming the fingers of her right hand in thought before coming up with an answer: "Yellow. I want to like it - it's bright and sunny and all - but I just can't pull it off.

"What about you?"

[Yuri had seen that critical look enough to count off the offenses along with her. He just arched an eyebrow back at her, partially ironic, partially challenging, and deliberately took a moment to roll his sleeves up to his elbows: another violation, or two if each arm counted for one.]

Me neither. [His tone was mild. She could report him, sure, but he doubt she'd do it. It wasn't worth the reputation of a nark for something so small. Might as well try to make nice instead] I'm Yuri.

I don't have one. [ she responds so quickly that it's almost as if she's just trying to be contrary again but nope she actually means it ] It's not something I've ever really thought about. I have things that I like and things that I don't like. What I don't like, I put out of my mind entirely. I hit delete, I wipe them out [ them?! ] and I don't really bother to rank them. Isn't the state of "being disliked" enough? [ she lapses into a meditative pause ] That's not to say that I don't have any ranking of distasteful things at all. Being that hateful towards a color seems so trivial though. [ okay now that is definitely just her being contrary ]

[Calling Blake a "late arrival" would be generous, at best. While he'd managed to show before the reception, a series of very unfortunate events has led him to missing the organized event almost completely.

When he shows at the reception hall, most everyone's moved on. A few stragglers mingle, but for the most part, it seems that the finger food's been picked over, the chairs and tables have been set askew, and there aren't exactly ushers left hanging around to help one very lost hopeful.

Figures.

Blake's just about to walk out — to ask around and maybe find someone with brass to clear things up — when he sees someone that he recognizes from more than a few forum posts and fan sites, recruitment sessions and advertising. Perhaps the most polished "brass" (in a less-strict sense of the word), if we're being honest, because the Beckets are exactly the kind of people the PPDC like having as front men.

So, when he gets a moment, sees an opening, he slides in and cuts off Raleigh's exit.]

Hey, um. You got a second? Kinda missed the— Well, kinda missed the whole thing, if we're bein' honest. A run-down'd be great.

[He even offers his hand in greeting, even if he doesn't give a name.]

[ it really isn't a matter of pride to hitagi or at least not entirely. her words are a sincere albeit roundabout reminder for her partners to communicate with her. of course speaking plainly would be more effective but speaking plainly might not accomplish her secondary purpose: to assess her partner. some laughed her words off. some were insulted. others became overly solicitous. his reaction is different enough to earn a narrow-eyed look from her. his confidence certainly speaks volumes. ]

So it's a verbal contract. Witnessed by anyone eavesdropping. If you try to revise the terms later, I'll have grounds to take you to court.

[ at that frankly outrageous statement, she takes off without so much as a signal to him. she's fast and those first few seconds when she starts to run, she seems like she's throwing herself forward, like she can't move quickly enough. then she settles into a natural rhythm. it's just a run after all and not a race even if her words have put them into a sort of competition.

some laughed her words off, assuming she was speaking out of pure bravado. some were insulted, assuming she was underestimating their abilities. others became overly solicitous, assuming she was just trying to be brave. very few hit upon the truth.

the truth is she never asks to stop to make sure she watches for when her partner would need to and she never asks to stop in order to push herself when her partner doesn't.

the truth is her words aren't a challenge to anyone but herself.

and the truth is sometimes she just likes to run.

still if he really will do as he says and will try to match her, maybe it's worthwhile to change up her usual goal for the runs. ]

Just as his eyes focused on the clock so did hers stray to the window, a tell she's not practiced enough to be able to conceal. It's not that this whole caution-bordering-on-paranoia is new to her. She's had months to train herself in distrust. It's that this situation (they are being watched, she knows they're being watched, her partner probably also knows they're being watched, their observers know that they know that they're being watched but they have to put on a show of only watching each other) is mentally exhausting her as she tries to anticipate the questions and answers and the evaluation of their questions and answers.

The opaque window reflects nothing except her face, schooled into her best approximation of neutrality but for the eyes. She turns back to her interview partner instead, another thing she thinks might prove to be just as exhausting as this exercise.

"Do I have any pets? None. What's my mother's maiden name? She was never a maiden. What city was I born in? I don't remember."

She's not resisting out of sheer contrariness (although there is a small element of that motivating her) but she snapped out her question so quickly for a reason. When she first came in to the testing center, they pointed her to a room and gave her one piece of advice.

There's no point in hiding anything but Hitagi still means to try.

"What's my childhood nickname? Senshougahara. What's the name of my high school? Only someone preying on that age group would want to know." She's rattling off the answers as if she's reciting something in class and not as if she's just accused him of- "Ah that's wrong. Rather than that kind of predator your questions seem more like the kind of things you'd ask for the purposes of identity theft."

Of course, she doesn't actually think that's his aim. She's just not about to give up control of the pace of this interview and doesn't it just say so much about her that she's turning this into a battle.

"I can't say I even know what comes in a standard toolbox." She's gotten better at this after several interviews. Deflecting and with the truth. Her fifty-seventh non-answer since coming into the testing center but her posture is impeccable and the steadiness of her eyes never wavers. She's probably failing. This is her fifty-seventh non-answer and if she's passed wouldn't they have told her? Then again the same could be said if she's failed. "Your turn. However, I don't just want to know which one. I want to know why and what you'd do with it that you'd consider it so useful."

( She knew a taunt when she saw one — and the look he returned (along with the upward roll of the sleeves) was exactly that. A seemingly childish one but a taunt nevertheless. No, definitely not worth it and she found no merit in it either. After all, if it's deliberate on his part, then he sure didn't need her help on getting caught. Leila's more than certain he could do it on his own without her intervention. )

I'd imagine so. It isn't a very noticeable location if one's not paying attention closely. ( That, and everyone's most likely having lunch still. She offered him a brief smile before she took a step back and around. ) In any case, I should go.

Luke is a bit surprised at her response, coloring faintly. He was pretty sure it was still lame but he wasn't used to hearing the reassurance, and the gesture was appreciated. He sits up a little straighter and perks noticably at the second question.

"I've played some football and baseball and stuff for fun, but I wasn't on any teams or anything. I've had a bunch of lessons in all kinds of fighting though. Mostly martial arts but I even took one for how to how use a broad sword."

He smiles, genuinely cheered by this subject, maybe even a little proud of himself. He is in pretty great shape, after all. He'd spent months working on those abs, and the maintenance. Such a pain, but it was worth the effort. It didn't even occur to him how bizarre it probably sounded, but when you were wealthy enough if you got it in your head you wanted to learn kung fu and how to use a sword because you saw it in a movie, it turns out it wasn't that hard to find a private instructor.

But he was supposed to be asking questions too, wasn't he? So he shoots back eagerly, "What about you?"

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test drive meme

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Mikasa Ackerman | Attack on Titan

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Raleigh Becket | Pacific Rim

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1!

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only dogs can judge me!!!!

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