maskormenacelogs | I come bringing America.

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I come bringing America.

WHO: North Dakota, this shitty NPC I made up, and you.
WHERE: The greatest Florida store of all time.
WHEN: Let's say any evening this week.
WHAT: STUFF. I went through a lot of trouble to invent this place.
WARNINGS: None so far.

In the heat of Florida, there is a man. Stories are told up and down the A1A of his exploits, stretching his character into the Paul Bunyan of the peninsula. Frat boys quiver at the mention of his name.

He says he has come from the heartland of America to save us all… by teaching us how to save ourselves. His name is Jimmy JoeBob Douglas. If he takes to you, you can call him Jujube.

Born in the wilds of Kansas City, Jujube dreamed of running away to fight in 'nam. When asked about his own service, he will wink and say that's classified. To those inclined to notice, his coke bottle glasses and minor case of scoliosis tell of why, now nearing sixty, he is still waiting for his chance to defend his beloved country. In his heart, he knows his day is coming. That's why he's hung his post here, on the edge of the Everglades. Jimmy JoeBob Douglas's Freedom Course and Patriotic Duty Supply (Now With Gun Range!).

It's a popular spot for team building office exercises, college guys looking to outbro each other, and serious training for backyard militia members. Feel free to browse the shop. Here at Jimmy JoeBob's, we carry guns, knives, ammo, camping gear, and all your stockpiling needs. Next door, his wife Suzanna runs a little diner called Diner that serves classic American food and sass. Yes, we do birthday parties.

Behind the till hangs all of the required licenses for such a store. Nearby, a picture of Sam the Eagle hangs majestically over the wall in a carved frame with chipped paint, under an AK-47. There is also a hang-in-there kitten wearing a Rambo bandana and a sign that says "Freedom is God's four letter word."

The rules of the course are posted:

1. No more than two persons on the course at one time.
2. No lolligagging.
3. No food ~~or drink~~ on the course.
4. By order of the "Health and Safety Board of Florida", Freedom cadets are allowed one (1) container of water.
5. No walking off the course un-escorted. Please use the whistle provided to you so you can be guided safely away.
6. No grenades or incendiary devices allowed on the course.
7. All Freedom cadets must sign a waiver.
8. All Freedom cadets will be patted down prior to entering the course. If you choose to carry a weapon onto the course, there is an additional five dollar charge to cover the necessary insurance fees.
9. The Freedom course has a maximum weight of 300 pounds and a minimum height of 60 inches.

If you're still interested, cadet, see the man himself for waivers and payment. He will grumble about how this documentation has been forced on him and will not question blatant use of pseudonyms.

If you feel uncomfortable with the current set up, you may take your leave, but Jimmy JoeBob will exercise his right to free speech and holler about yellow yuppies.

The Freedom course is a lovingly handcrafted, ramshackle misappropriation of the Ninja Warrior course and the Tough Mudder, as assembled by someone who has seen too many war movies. Ziplines, rock walls, wooden walls, salmon ladders - this course needs upper body strength and a few calluses. Ropes are rope, and the construction is mainly wood. Splinters are a constant threat. Crash cushions are nearly under stuffed, where they exist at all. Most bad landings are cushioned by mud pools.

Large sections of the course are shaded by a rope net draped across the sparse trees. It's been covered with tree branches and leaves to mimic camouflage, like a ghillie suit.

As a cadet begins the course, Jimmy JoeBob will make a decision based on his or her appearance. An adult with a solid build, bad attitude, or admitted military experience will force him to press a big red button under the counter. This gun activates the pitching machines along the course, which will hurl bean bags when their motion sensors are tripped. He has a reputation of being a tough old sonovagun, and he aims to keep it.

The bigger problem is that the button also flips one of the arrows denoting the trail, causing the course to head into the Everglades themselves. The course here is mainly rope bridges and badly anchored floating platforms. Jimmy JoeBob likes to feed chicken to his favorite gators, Patton and Robert E. Lee, so keep a sharp eye.

Jimmy JoeBob is always surprised when the door from the finish swings open. He'll wordlessly point the survivors (no one dies, honest!) to the complimentary showers.

Finally, the gun range is just a gun range. All of the targets are Russian stereotypes though, including a machete-wielding babushka.

[Brackets are welcome! Generic starters ~~will be up shortly~~ are up! You can start something specific if you like, or PM for something as well.]

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North can be found walking around the perimeter of the store, where the long guns are mounted vertically on the walls like dominoes, and boxes of various ammo sit beneath them on shelves. He's taking his time, running his eyes along each one; he reads the specs on half the kinds of bullets as well. Occasionally, he calls a technical question over to Jimmy JoeBob, who gives him a rambling answer that always winds up back on the same point: the AK-47 is the best gun since the Winchester. Hands down, son.

He does eventually migrate through the rest of the store, although it's admittedly things like hunting knives and Survival Bracelets that catch his eye the most.

The door swung open and a teenager with a heavy rucksack barged his way in looking like a refugee from an 80s action movie. Stupid-looking bandana: check. Dated haircut: check.

"Hey, old man! I heard you've got an obstacle course out here that's supposed to be pretty tough!"

Ryoga didn't spend much time looking at the guns, although survival gear might have been of interest. He was just here for the challenge.

When the bell at the door rings, North looks up and takes stock of the new arrival. He doesn't quite understand 21st century trends, and this teen is no exception. What's the point of tying a cloth around your head if it doesn't function to keep your hair out your eyes?

"It's tougher than you, squirt," grumbles Jimmy JoeBob. Ryoga's height is immaterial, all teenagers are squirts, hooligans, and troublemakers. "Think you can handle it?"

North pipes up from the aisle that he's in. "He'll be better at it now that you've insulted him."

There was only one point to the bandana -- just one.

Style.

...Or more likely, it had just become something of a habit to wear it, and it did manage to soak up some sweat during those tough midday training sessions.

"Handle it?" he repeated, perhaps for dramatic effect. "I'll annihilate it. This will be the perfect opportunity to get a leg up on Saotome."

Wait, but who was this other guy? Ryoga turned toward North, blinking. "Are you here for the course, too?"

North's idea of style was matching purple and green or tan and black so... maybe Ryoga is on to something in that regard. He would admit that keeping sweat out of one's eyes was a valid reason to wear it.

"The course?" North glanced over at the redneck shopkeeper, who is currently narrating himself checking his ledger to see if Saotome has 'properly annihilated the Freedom course'. It hadn't occurred to him to check out the obstacle course. He had come for the firing range and the store, but now that it's been brought up. "I don't know. I could give it a shot."

More quietly, so as to not further agitate Jimmy JoeBob, he asks, "Is it any good?"

"Good?" asked Jimmy JoeBob, looking as if he'd been personally been offended by the question. "I tell you what, if you make it through with nothing leaking, and I will personally hand you a cold one."

Well. Ryoga was actually underage, so he couldn't accept said drink even if it was offered. But the point was: bragging rights.

"I accept your challenge!" he said, as triumphantly as if he'd actually accomplished something. "Just remember -- if we both pass, you'll have to pony up two drinks."

Maybe he could trade it for something.

That... apparently just happened. North is looking from the kid to Jimmy JoeBob with a rather confused, incredulous look on his face. Normally, if someone's mouth gets him into trouble, North's in the company of his sister or one of his louder teammates.

This is the first time that he can remember that a stranger's taken a challenge on his behalf.

It's not a precedent he's willing to set without argument. "Now, hold on a minute. I haven't said yes yet."

Jimmy JoeBob gave a loud squawk and began walking like a chicken. North is sick of this entire century, honestly. "Fine, but it better be a cold beer."

"Alright, then." The man reached under his desk and produced two well-worn clipboards. "But before we get started, Uncle Sugar wants your autograph."

Ryoga took his copy of the waivers, frowning at the writing. Frankly, he couldn't read a word of English, so it would actually have been more helpful if Jimmy JoeBob had simply handed him a crayon drawing of a man lying prone and defeated beside a climbing wall (with no more than one container of water).

He looked it over for appearance's sake anyway and signed on the blank line at the bottom. That, at least, he could understand.

Taking the clipboard with a puff of air too small to be a sigh, North takes several minutes to read it. He's not volunteering for something with a disclaimer and a waiver, for no reason, without knowing what he's getting into.

The waiver seems to presume failure and injury, but North is self-assured enough to think that he can take whatever they want to throw at him. He signs with a heavy hand that simply reads "North Dakota".

"I hear the imPort programs has good health care anyway," he says as he hands it back to Jimmy JoeBob with a wink. "I won't need it though."

"That's the spirit! That'll be 10 dollars each."

Ten dollars? What was ten dollars, in the face of BRAGGING RIGHTS? Ryoga slapped a ten dollar bill down on the counter slightly more dramatically than was strictly required. "Done!"

He could only hope that the course would fulfill his wildest obstacle course dreams. More importantly, he didn't notice as the proprietor slipped his hand under the counter and pressed a button as he was putting Ryoga's price of admission away. It was probably fine.

"Alright, son, keep your shirt on. I'll also need to pat you down, make sure you're not carrying any weapons on the course. That's extra."

It's 97 degrees and humid, and he will go down swinging if someone tries to suggest that he shouldn't already be sweating. North's about a third of the way into course, now, and he's just completed a salmon ladder, so he's taking this opportunity to stand on one of the obstacle course's towers and stretch his shoulders, catch his breath. It also helps give him a better vantage point for what the rest of the course has in store for him.

It doesn't look too bad, for the year that it's been built in. It's the first chance he's had to get a work out since he arrived in the here and now, and he's going to enjoy it. He wipes a forearm against his forehead and dries his hands on his pants in preparation for the zipline down.

[M had heard rumors about this place, most of them bad, and so here he is checking it out for himself. He's dressed casually today (he figured wandering into the place in his Midnighter garb wouldn't get him very far), dressed in a black crescent moon tank top and gym shorts. Though he was nowhere to be seen when North entered, he's already caught up to the other man, looking no worse for the wear. The grin on his face doesn't help.]

Having fun yet?

[ North has opted for civvies as well, dark olive track pants, a t-shirt, and a good pair of combat boots. It's a good thing, too, because his armor would have put him over the course weight limit. ]

Oh yeah. I don't have any mud on me yet, so I think I'm good.

[ He takes a second to check out the new person, who doesn't seem winded or bothered by the heat. North glances at the ladder apparatus and back to M. The guy has a great build, but that's no excuse for being eclipsed. ]

You're quick at this.

[ There's some disappointment to that: North suspects that the problem is his own slowness. He might not be aggressively competitive, but he has his pride.

North takes a running leap off the tower and catches onto the knotted grip dangling from the pulley. His momentum sends him flying down the line, and he jumps off and lands comfortably on dry ground at the end.

Turning to look back, it's his turn to grin. ]

I could throw it, if you're worried about falling.

[While North is talking, M takes in the surrounding area with a small grin. Once North takes the zipline down, M begins walking backwards towards the opposite end of the platform.]

I'm all right.

[Once he reaches the back of the platform, he takes off at a run across the small space, diving off the edge. Roughly halfway down he flips upright, and lands nimbly on his feet beside North.]

You did tell me to fall, didn't you?

[ There's a flash of a familiar feeling, almost an irritation, that even completing a task perfectly isn't enough.

Or is it just irritation at the sarcasm? He'd prefer that. ]

A smartass. Of course, because I can't go two weeks without one of those in my life.

[ He wouldn't call it a vacation, but he had been enjoying the break. The next task is a rock wall that is slanted outwards a good 30 degrees. North doesn't waste time chitchatting, he's already reaching for the first grips when he makes the smartass comment.

Whenever M begins the wall, that's when North will chitchat. ]

If I tell you to fall now, will you listen?

We're everywhere, I'm afraid. Like weeds.

[By all means, North, chitchat all you want. That's not stopping M from climbing up this wall like he's done it a million times before.]

I've been told I'm not one to follow instructions.

Midnighter, by the way.

[ North might not have done this a million times - this kind of drilling is for basic training, so it's been awhile since it was a frequent thing. But he has to know how to climb, in armor that ways several hundred pounds, because "I can't get over this wall" isn't an excuse. And rolling his eyes and grunting noncommittally at the instructions comment doesn't slow him down.

Besides, his AI is working out the best route in his head, and that's half the climb. He pulls himself up a few seconds after Midnighter introduces himself. It's a good time, for a guy who doesn't make parkour a hobby. ]

North.

[ So... no, he's not going to ask for an explanation about the name. Instead, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and looks around at the Florida greenery. ]

I wouldn't say that about the weeds. The universe is running out of places this green. I could get used to this, if I wasn't AWOL.

Edited 2016-08-19 00:04 (UTC)

[What do you know, a computer is telling him how to move too. M smirks a bit at the name.]

We should start a club for people who have names other people don't think are names.

[Speaking of...]

What about your friend? They got a name?

[Normally he'd barrel right into the next obstacle, which, by the look of the course is a hastily hung sideways ladder over a pool of mud.]

If it helps, you aren't AWOL. Time's not going anywhere back home.

[ North grins at this suggestion and does his best to continue the joke. ]

Sure. Poker and beer every Friday at my place.

[ If Midnighter isn't going to take the lead on the ladder, North won't hesitate to do so. He works the first few rungs like monkey bars until he's out far enough to get his feet on them.

But he misunderstands the question, not realizing M is asking about Theta, who is rather effervescently noisy about the whole "game" aspect of the course. ]

I never thought I'd say this, but I think you've got me confused with some other North. The only person I know here is Tex.

[ And friend isn't the word he'd go for. ]

Yeah, I know we aren't AWOL, but u don't have a term for 'I'm up to my neck in shit back home and losing sleep over it.'

Edited 2016-08-19 19:42 (UTC)

If I'm ever feeling generous, I might even occasionally supply the beer.

[The reason why M waited to grab onto the ladder becomes all too clear once North goes to grab the ladder with his feet. The thing's precarious balance is now out of whack and it starts to slide out of place... or rather it does for the few seconds before M grabs onto it to apply a counterbalance.]

I didn't say a person, now did I. I said your friend. The one who forgot to tell you this thing was going to fall.

[As someone who is a second Midnighter here, he understands the sentiment of being confused for someone else.]

Wouldn't this break be the perfect time to think about how to get out of "all of that shit."

[Sure, he knows that you forget things the second you go back, but still. No reasoning with these anal retentive types.]

Edited 2016-08-19 20:46 (UTC)

Oh, aren't you a big spe-

[ North swings more than the ladder does, but the assist is appreciated. He's less happy about what's being implied. He's already annoyed by how many people know about Theta, and now he's randomly bumping into people that know.

He hangs his head, but, given he's upside down on a ladder, it only reminds him that he doesn't want to answer wrong and get a free mud bath. ]

That'd be Theta, and it's not his fault. He runs blind when I'm out of uniform.

[ This is being said for Theta's benefit. He doesn't want to make the little guy feel bad.

North hurries across the ladder as best he can. Once he's on his feet again, he reaches up to secure the ladder and return the favor. ]

I know how to get out of it: don't die, find out the truth and leave. First part's easy. Last one depends on the middle.

[Whoops, that was clearly the wrong thing to say. He enjoys annoyign people, but he doesn't want to ]

I've got implants too. No name for them. It enables me to see the increased electrical activity in your head.

Among other things.

I can forget about him if you'd like.

[He quickly makes it across.]

Ain't that always the way.

[ That's... unexpected, and North's eyebrows have jerked up in response to, well, all of it. They don't come back down. ]

What do you mean, other things?

[ He is virtually ignoring the next part of the course, a pair of logs that look to be mounted on an axle so that they spin when you run across them. ]

You can see other things in my head - or you've got other implants?

[ North is not sure which of those he'd find preferable. He is not used to being the least-enhanced person in a room, but the teleportation process didn't grant him any additional abilities. ]

I seriously doubt you can, but I appreciate the offer. I'm sorry; people I don't know - children have been asking me about Theta for a week. [ It's supposed to be a top secret project, dammit. ] And now, you. I'm beginning to get paranoid.

Like I can see you have an enhanced skeleton and lots of military training.

[You just move like a jarhead. Some kind of jarhead, at least, with a sprinkling of... something else he hasn't placed yet and it's annoying him.]

Wow you take things literally don't you? It's a metaphor. [Or something. Whatever.] It means I won't mention it again--to you or anyone else, and I act like I don't know its there.

I know what it means! It was the politest sarcasm that I could come up with.

[ That got snappish fast, but North is trying to not lose his patience while clinging to his apparently nonexistent privacy. ]

Not mentioning it is great, and I won't mention yours, but I'm not about to lie to you and say I'm going to act like I don't know that you can see in my head and under my skin from three meters away. You don't strike me as stupid, either, but you're lousy at chitchat. Who answers 'I'm getting paranoid' with medical and military intel?

[There's a shrug as M looks out over at the logs in front of them.]

You can mention mine to whoever you want, I don't exactly keep it a secret.

[He lets it spin fully before stepping onto it, doing several flips across until he's reached the other side.]

I've been told by multiple people I'm not much of a conversationalist, but as far as I'm concerned I'd much rather give it to you straight now. It shows I have nothing to hide.

[He motions to the logs.]

My suggestion would be to hug it from the bottom.

[ North shakes his head. He wouldn't go around mentioning it without a reason. ]

Since we're not pulling punches, they're right.

[ The corners of North's mouth pick up into a smile, almost a smirk. He runs across the log, leaning to the side to compensate for the spin. It's not as pretty as Midnighter's maneuver, but he seems likely to make it until he stops at the midway point and lets himself drop over the edge.

Don't get your hopes up, he catches himself on the log, hugging it with four long limbs and shimmying across the underside like a horizontal lumberjack. The transition from the log to the ledge is tricky and inelegant. North basically refuses to fall and muscles up onto the platform.

He loses the battle to come through mud-free, however. One foot has clearly hit the slop. ]

Not that many people would worry if some guy they just met thought they weren't being honest. Guess you're counting on poker to save you from Friday night.

[Ouch, you wound him in his hearts.]

Never said I was worried. [He doesn't do worried.] I was trying to make you feel better.

[See, much better to hug it than try to run across it. Wouldn't have gotten that foot muddy if you hadn't attempted to run across first.]

And I definitely will have no guilt separating you from your money Friday.

[Poker. He's talking about Poker.]

[ That is not North's fault when M is practically holding the door open for that particular truth. ]

Thanks.

[ The gratitude is completely out of habit. He can appreciate the effort, it's tough being everybody's cheerleader. Except... ]

Maybe not any guilt, but you'll have some trouble. Do you ever say anything that isn't a backhand?

[Somehow he doubts there will be any trouble at all.]

You look cute in that shirt.

[There's a mostly genuine smile there, with just the barest hint of shit-eating grin just before he jumps onto the trampoline and grabs onto the beginning wall of the Jumping Spider.]

[ Hey now - he's not a bad poker player, and that was before he taught Theta how to count cards.

Not that it matters, because he's too flummoxed to - how the heck does he respond to that? If he says thanks, he's conceited and too naïve for the joke. If he assumes it's mocking, he's insecure.

The truth of it is that he's flattered. North has spent the past couple years on a ship with the same bunch of people day in, day out. Everyone's in helmets and bulked out armor. Compliments are rare. He decides he'll take it. ]

Thanks.

[ He's still wondering about the smile, but sometimes, dammit, he just wants to take things with the same earnest face value he offers.

Besides, hanging back to think about it lets him observe the obstacle. ]

[It's not that he thinks North is bad, just that he knows he's better.

M nods at North's acknowledgement of his words, but is too focused on this stupid wall he's found himself splayed against.

As he shimmies his way across the obstacle, limbs spread wide to maintain his grip (as sadly there was no more dignified way to accomplish this, M can't help but wonder why the hell anyone would do this in the first place. What exactly does proving you can crabwalk across plexiglass have to do with anything? Is that really something to brag about?

And who the hell would want to build all of it in the first place?

Once at the end of the obstacle, he drops down to the wooden deck below, never happier to see ground.]

[ That kind of ego should be bottled and sold.

As M is making his way, Theta is calculating the odds of North successfully completing the Jumping Spider with one boot covered in mud. 13%. Wiping off the mud drops it to 8%, because there's a good chance his hands would be slippery

It's a choice between looking incompetent or looking honest, and he'll take honest any day. North ignores the trampoline and jumps down into the chest-deep mud. It doesn't take long to wade to the other side, climb out. The muck doesn't bother him - and he wasn't any slower than Midnighter in getting to this side. ]

This whole course is ridiculous. A good pair of grab boots negates 67% of the obstacles. I want one in a base. Get in and out without tripping the security system. Live guards for spontaneous variables. That's a challenge. This - I don't want to try.

[Not ego, just really good implants.]

Oh those are always fun. But this is fun too. After all, it's not every day you witness sadism in obstacle form.

Edited 2016-08-25 15:44 (UTC)

[ There's a soft "heh" in response to it being fun to have a more realistic smile, but the accompanying grin gets lost under his shirt as North pulls off the mud-soaked cotton to wring out. ]

I think I'd rather not find sadism, if it's all the same. I get enough of that already.

[ The scars back that up, if his nonchalance doesn't. ]

Then you've picked the wrong course. I'm not here for my health.

[Of course, the view is a nice bonus.]

[ North looks back at the route they've taken, blinking against the sunlight, and eventually shrugs. ]

I'm here for mine. The gym's boring when you're used to something more interactive.

I find tracking down and beating the brains in on kidnappers helps alleviate my boredom.

[Yes, he did just say that with a straight face.]

Or in today's case, a crackpot who gets his jollys injuring people just looking for a good time because he doesn't like them.

Edited 2016-09-13 13:37 (UTC)

[ North starts at that, but it's not due to the suggestion of violence. He's lived through a war - he's never considered violence as a hobby. ]

Do they actually do that in the 21st century? What did they call them, marshals? Sheriffs? My history's rusty.

[ His head cocks slightly to the side, like he's listening to someone. Which he is. ]

Oh, that's right. Vigilantes.

I never said it wasn't frowned upon.

Who's frowning?

[ North is confused by the historical timeline of events, having thought vigilantes died out with the Wild West, but he has no real qualms with the hobby. ]

You did say they were kidnappers. Jimmy JoeBob sells guns, if you were wondering.

I've found most "polite" society frowns upon such actions, though they're also the first to be begging for my help whenever they need it.

[A shrug. Oh well that's humanity for you, he supposes.]

His name is Jimmy JoeBob. I'd be more surprised if he didn't. My problem is this guy's been going out of his way to turn this deathtrap against people he decides he doesn't like. A couple people have gotten seriously hurt from projectiles or floors that just seem to give way at the wrong moment. Any complaints against the guy seem to go unheeded by the cops, so I got called in.

This section is a tricky one, as platforms are at different heights and connected mainly by ropes - sometimes two ropes (one to be walked on, one as a handhold), sometimes rope nets leading up to higher platforms, and ziplines leading back down again. There are several instances where jumping from one platform to another is mandatory.

That would be where North is, right now. He is midway through a five jump series of platforms, but he is currently stalled. The next platform, which butts against some visible dry land, half hidden by reeds, is apparently home to an alligator.

The alligator is staring at him. He's not all that familiar with Floridian wildlife, but he does recognize unfriendly when he sees it.

Edited 2016-08-17 01:14 (UTC)

Wasn't that fun, kids? (No.)

North thought it wasn't half-bad, but he's possibly suffering from dehydration and heatstroke. He's sitting in a booth, slouched back and knees spread like he has claimed this side of the booth as his own forever. The waitress has just dropped off his drink order: two waters, one coffee, and an orange juice that has actual fruit pulp in it. He can't get enough of that stuff.

He downs the first glass of water in one long gulp and goes back to looking over the menu. He honestly does not know what half of the things on offer are. The confusion is palpable.

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I come bringing America.

In Patriotic Duty Supply, pre-course.

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On the Freedom course, option one (main route).

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On the Freedom course, option two (Everglades portion)

In the diner called Diner, post-course.