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2 yrs ago
Current A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing

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So there I am, in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for one thousand brown M&Ms to fill a brandy glass, or Ozzy wouldn't go on stage that night. So, Jeff Beck pops his head 'round the door, and mentions there's a little sweets shop on the edge of town. So - we go. And - it's closed. So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopowner and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really. But, sure enough, I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.

Most Recent Posts

I am going to kill Nate with how this sheet has plagued me all morning. I finally got it to agree with me. Finally.


Worked fine for me...[/b]
btw congrats prcu folks we've officially made it past 1/2 the way to a 100 ic posts


It's been a good fifty.

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.51 Team Bonding - Basic Introductions: "Mouth Meet Foot, Foot... Mouth."

Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean, Hayleigh - @Kuro, Iñigo - @Mao Mao... Background Cassander - @Lord Wraith
Previously: Biology 101 - Introduction to Flirting

Yeah, he'd screwed up. Trying to take a peek around the yurt he was using for cover, to catch a glimpse at her reaction and facial expression, she looked... down. Maybe not crestfallen, but certainly disappointed with how things had played out.

Now whether that was because of the poorly delivered flirtation or not, he was unsure of, but it certainly wasn't remedied by his suggestion that they check in on everyone else.

Bloody dickhead. She was struggling to open up, you read it right and weren't overly forceful in poking and prodding clumsily - tread carefully and listen... and then you decide "Hey you know what would be a good idea? LeT's cHeCk iN wItH eVeRyOnE eLsE." Idyut.

Stop. Giving. A. Shit. Be cool. There's time to fix this later on. Hell, you're sharing a tent. And since we're going to have our own thoughts on everybody, there'll doubtless be something to discuss. 'Bonding' over team bonding, so to speak. It'll all work out.

Unless she decides she likes someone else here better and decides to ditch out and go with someone else after that piss-poor display... No second chances then.

A cold shiver ran up his spine, confronted with this new terrible possibility. Which also made him confront the fact that it was too late - he did, indeed, care.

But they were all already paired up, Jim-Bob wasn't going to allow some bullshit scuffle or petty argument kick off over people baselessly deciding to switch tents. He'd make people pick-n-stick just to avoid all that. Surely?

Calliope sighed audibly and began to walk away. Banjo wrapped up his "final check" and quickly fell in behind in as casual a pursuit as he could muster.

Now he was pretty much at the mercy of who she'd choose to approach, for who they'd be dealing with. He prayed to whatever deity who would still actually take his calls that it wouldn't be Trace, and was relieved when he saw it was the blonde girl in the wheelchair he'd seen around the traps and... someone else. Had he just completely forgotten this other person altogether? Had they always been here? Realising that Calliope was the only person whose name he'd cared to remember amongst their group from initial introductions, it immediately seemed plausible.

"Hey, do you need any more help? We got our tent up and figured we would come and check on everyone else. You know, get this whole bonding thing started. I'm Calliope, by the way."

"Evenin' thrillseekers," Banjo kicked off with an impression that no-one within a thousand miles would pickup on. "Banjo here." He gave a little three finger wave with his thumb and two forefingers. "There are no tools. Whole thing sets itself up. Piss-easy, if a bit unfulfilling in terms of soul. Got a lever, tucked just under that fold." He said as an aside, giving a conspiratorial wink to the blonde girl in the wheelchair who was inspecting the tent bag.

"Don't tell this one that, though." He said sticking out his tongue and gesturing at Calliope. "Reckon she thinks she's got herself a real Crocodile Dundee to up the tent." He joked.

Too soon, dickhead. Still raw... She's still disappointed with you...

Sparking and disruption caused the group to look over to the side, just in time to see Sparky McGee's hands spark blue, and his tentmate take to the skies and fly away.

Unless she decides she likes someone else here better and decides to ditch out and go
with someone else after that piss-poor display... No second chances then.


Jim-Bob wasn't going to allow some bullshit scuffle or petty argument
kick off over people baselessly deciding to switch tents.


Swap tent-partners, no... but he might just let someone go from one tent to a vacant spot in another.

And now Banjo was watching a vacancy open up as this guy flew over the horizon.

"Well, shit..."

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Shut up Tad, ...

...we all know you're a virgin.
...we all know you buy your shoes at Best and Less.
...we all know those curls are implanted pubic hair.
...we all know sexual dysfunction is not a personality trait.
...we all know you're the reason your parents are divorced.
...we all know you think Bieber is acceptable.
...we all know you smell like failure and cheese.
...we all know your town would never have you back.
...we all know you're the human embodiment of Jessica Black's 'Friday'.
...we all know you're the reason the McRib is seasonal.
...we all know America grows stronger in your absence.
...we all know good taste dies with every breath you draw.
...we all know just because you're a pussy doesn't make you a certified gynaecologist.

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.44 Biology 101 - Introduction to Flirting

Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean
Previously: How to Stall Assembling a Self-Assembling Tent Because of Hotness

Calliope really was stunning. Distractingly so. But Banjo continued to play it cool as best he could. If she had any interest in him at all, and he suspected she did. After all, she approached him - man, that really came out of nowhere though, didn't it - and there were a few moments he suspected he'd almost caught her checking him out. Particularly checking out his rear end, when he'd put the tent down and turned back quickly to offer his name. At first he thought maybe he was picking up on something he was hoping for, rather than something that was actually happening, but then too many things seemed to fall into place to make it seem just a coincedence.

Still, play it cool. Hell, after all, if there was anything that drew him to her in the first place it was probably that, yeah? Confidence bordering on cockiness. Banjo bein' Banjo.

"This school is...interesting to say the least. I've never been to a school like it with such stringent rules and dress codes. Granted, it wasn't like I didn't have my own set of rules governed by my father. Looking a certain way, acting a certain way. Everything had to be cookie-cutter perfect otherwise we didn't hear the end of it. Hell, the whole thing at the town center was because..."

Hup, there it was again. Family. And more to the point, the father. Guess that made some kind of sense. Daddy issues. If you could bio-engineer "Daddy wouldn't approve" in a laboratory, Banjo was pretty sure he'd be looking at a clone of himself. He'd have to thank the old man later, because if Calliope WASN'T perfection, then he'd damn sure come up with a close enough approximation of it, far as he could tell...

Then she quickly pulled up on her comments, and it left him feeling self-conscious and guilty for his own lewd thoughts. "Never mind. Suffice to say, I think we all have our pasts and reasons for being here. As nutty as it might seem, I think you have it right. At least being a Hyperhuman here won't get you kicked out or shunned by society." He got a sense she was trying to open up to him, and that it wasn't easy. But maybe that she would with time. It told him he'd played it right before. Don't probe, don't poke. Just listen.

"Yeah, looks like prime weather for me then. And I agree, our powers seem to complement each other. Or, at the very least, won't hinder the other. Provided you don't give off intense heat and I am nearby. Though not all heat is bad."

There it was. Boom. Jackpot. Clarification. Pieces all fell into place, and it wasn't just hopes or wishes. Shit. Oh shit. A comeback. Hit a comeback, before the timing's misse--

"Couldn't imagine myself giving off intensity or heat if you weren't." he fired back with a smirking grin.

What the fuck was--? Was that good? Did that work? I mean it was something. Fuck it. Sell it. Confidence and keep moving. Good ol' Banjo bein' Banjo. Say that shit and keep moving. Nothing to see here. Don't linger at the scene. And why the fuck do you give a shit? You never give a shit.

He dropped the smirk, but kept the grin on his face as he circled the yurt ensuring it was properly self anchored and in tact.

"Well, whilst I would more than happily keep chattering away to you all night, I s'pose we should probably make the most of what little time we have getting to know the rest of these jokers. Looks like we got our tent done first anyway. Probably give a decent 'in' with some of the others who might be struggling. Worst comes to worst, at least 'this' feels pretty good and solid. Least I know one person's got their head screwed on right."

Stop giving a shit. Does she know that you're into her? She knows that you're appropriately into her. Stop this. She flirted, you flirted back. She was letting you know she's into you, you let her know you're into her. I mean she didn't seem to cringe terribly. She didn't hurl herself off the cliffs. Knock it off. You did fine. Did it seem like you ran away? No, she knows we have to speak to the other people.

Goddamn it. You have to speak to the other people. The people where it probably won't go as well because they didn't necessarily like you going in.

"Well, shit..."

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FYI, anyone curious about that Banjo playlist I mentioned before...

The monument to the Australian music industry

...and Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun.

Andrew "Banjo" Olyphant - P.R.C.U

One of the "football friends" Rory had brought a throwball. Because of course he had. He supposed the only surprise was that both of them hadn't. He'd seen Rory raise an eyebrow when Calliope asked if he wanted to share a tent. Banjo had wanted to mouth "I know! I have no idea either, right?" but instead he just kept on hauling the tent bag with a grin on his face. The view certainly didn't hurt in terms of keeping his behaviour in line. And he supposed the cliffs were alright too.

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.33 How to Stall Assembling a Self-Assembling Tent Because of Hotness

Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean, The Ball
Previously: Upsticks In Five to Ten

Banjo was looking through the tent bag. The thing didn't look like any kind of tent he'd put up in the past, but he'd nut it out okay. How complicated could a tent be? He started digging for instructions.

"Came here kind of by choice, kind of not. Home life was....testy to say the least. I mean, when you destroy your town's city center and make it look like a winter wonderland in the middle of a New Mexico summer, you tend to ruffle some feathers. Ice, in case that wasn't clear, is my power. I haven't practiced with it too much, but I imagine I can do a lot with it. I made it snow back home."

Quite a lot to unpack there. Her speech had a clipped tone in its pattern that suggested she didn't expect any questions. Comment about her home and family suggested there was more there, but she wasn't comfortable sharing it yet. Which was fine with him. He got how family could hurt you about as well as anyone. It's why his attitude was mainly "Fuck those people" in regards to his own. He'd love to track them down just to tell them he'd never needed them and spit in their faces. But her situation sounded more complicated, and not everyone was as evolved in their "Fuck you people" thinking as he was.

He considered telling the story of when he'd killed all the toilets and plumbing in the City Center of Cobra back home, to her. But that was more an amusing anecdote and something he actually took a sick sort of sense of pride in the humour of the situation than anything... and let's face it, Cobra wasn't his home.

Cobra was a town of about a couple dozen people. They don't build Town Hall's for towns with only a couple dozen people with hundreds of acres of land on their stations. They make do. In this case the local pub.

The Butler had to leave a hefty couple of strips of rubber behind to get the pair of them out alive after Banjo had cherry bombed the toilets and the keg lines. Not out of anger or malice... he was mainly just curious to see if the explosives could still work under those conditions.

There was now about about a football team's worth of people out in rural South Australia who were in favour of corporal punishment in the case of a very specific child, who could attest to the fact that cherry bomb's do indeed work in those conditions.

So yeah, that didn't sound like the story to tell. So instead he just nodded and tried to seem understanding.

"What about you? Here by choice or force?"

He chuckled at the question. "I've never been ANYWHERE by choice. Now what I've done when I've gotten there... that's been ENTIRELY Banjo." He grabbed his chest as if to accentuate the point.

"But I've been bounced around damn near every eligible boarding school in my country growing up. I've just now heard that for whatever reason, this situation's a little more permanent than any of my previous schools." He placed the tent.

"So it looks like I've got to make THIS one count and work for me. Still, it could be worse. As far as I can tell nobody's planning any major harm to me because of what I am... Australia's not quite so progressive yet on Hyperhuman Rights. And I mean, the actual school - as far as school's go - I probably couldn't ask for anything better, even if the kids seem a bit crazy with the school pride. I mean, if I rattle out of here, I'm a known-hyperhuman - just because I actually got admitted here - whose references include DOZENS of schools over my entire education - more than half with less than sparkling things to say about my disciplinary record. What other university would accept that?"

He straightened up and thought about it all. Really let what he was saying wash over himself and take effect like he hadn't until now.

He might not be able to go back home again.

Which seems a weird thing to think for someone who doesn't have a fixed place he thinks of as "home". Just the broader concept of being able to drive the open roads and go to wherever on the Australian continent he so choose. To not be able to go back.

"Well, shit."

He popped the yurt and it gradually began to unfurl and take shape. The stray football rolled into the base of the yurt.

"But ice... That's good. That works fine with me. I'm not bothered by extreme temperatures, it's part of my whole package deal, so feel free to absolutely cut loose if it's just you and me. Also," He said, gesturing to the oncoming dark clouds. "Storm's coming, so unless this is some hyper-manmade thing they're doing now to get all low pressure regions out to ensure good weather for their trials, it looks like you're going to have plenty of moisture in the air."

Calls of "Little help!" came from behind, in regards to the lost ball. Banjo sighed.

"But as for me, mine's a little tougher to describe. I... feed, I guess... on sunlight and ambient heat. It makes me... more. Stronger. Faster. I think clearer. But it's easier to show, than tell..."

He did a quick check to make sure everyone was at a safe distance and then drank deep of the late-afternoon, early-evening sun. His breathing quickened and halted, and his body turned black. Muscles and sinew re-knitted within his flesh and his synapses flared and fired from the exquisite sensation. His body stopped seizing and he regained control after the initial change. A splendid orange corona started surrounding him, and a cool breeze seemed to exude from the windward side of him as he dropped the local temperature about a half a degree.

He pointed down to the football and then gave a thumbs-up. He powered down and picked it up.

He gestured to the further boy to get ready, waving the ball up, and kicked the ball high as he could in his direction. A booming punt. Hyperhuman strength-assisted.

"Reckon even without your help, that 'un might come down with frost on it." He said, referring to the altitude he'd put on the ball.

"So feel free to call me a dickhead for being overly forward since we've only just met, but it seems to me that if nothing else our powersets are pretty compatible. I don't know what's going to be ahead of us in the Trials... but if the group is told to split up for any reason - groups of sixes, groups of twos or threes - maybe we'd both be best off watching each other's backs?"

He gestured to the tent that was now complete.

"At least that's the way I see it."

The ball came down cold.

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A child playing with a toy car on the carpet.

"Pack your gear, kiddo. We up sticks in five to ten minutes."

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A middle primary boy is working on mathematics. He hears a tapping. He looks up, and then turns and looks out the window.

"Pack your gear, kiddo. Up sticks in five to ten." The man whispers hoarsely from outside.
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An older boy eats his lunch out in a school playground.

"Pack it up, kiddo. We up sticks in five to ten."


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A young high schooler is hammering down the final pegs to hold down the ropes to the outer rain-cover on a tent. The sun is rapidly sinking into the horizon, casting the sky a rich red. A well dressed man approaches from that horizon.

"You have got to be fucking joking!"

"Sorry kiddo, pack your shit. I've already got your foot locker
from the campus in the car. We-- hey, literally this time--"
The man
said, pointing at the tent. "--Up sticks in five to ten."

"This isn't even my fucking tent! It's the school's! And it's shared!" He called back to the man who had already walked off in the direction of the group and the designated faculty member to inform them he'd be removing the child.

"Even better. Won't take you as long to pack your shit..." The Butler dryly said back over his shoulder.





"Not speaking to me, huh?"

Sullen silence radiated as the boy threw his pack in the back seat, before climbing in the front with the sourest of demeanours.

"I get it. It sucks. You know it's not exactly how I want to be living my life either, you know that right?"

More silent venom infected the atmosphere.

"Alright, tell you what. If you talk to me, you can pick what's on the radio."

"Gee thanks. We're miles from fucking anywhere. It's AM only out here." Banjo closed his eyes and clenched his fist in a wince, immediately regretted his reply.

"Heeeeey! There he is!" The Butler ruffled his hair roughly. "And for what it's worth. We're about to come up to Ararat in five or ten minutes, so there should be transmission. If we're lucky it should hold all the way to the next, which is some way off, so the gesture's not f'r nothing, y'know."

Banjo withdrew bitterly, still pissed that he cracked so easily.

"Ahhh cheer up, Bug-a-lugs. It may never happen." The older man said as he flicked the radio over to the FM band. Already faint transmission was coming in. "Wha'd I say, eh?"

The boy started adjusting the radio frequency, looking to find something strong enough for the radio to take a hold of.

It suddenly clicked into some 80s rock band.

"Heeeey! The Church! A classic! Looks like you're a natural, kid.

" # --it leads you here! Despite your destination... Under the Milky Way tonight. # "

The boy looked at the older man, singing along off key, but spiritedly. He stuck his tongue deep in his cheek, deeply in contemplation.

" # --Wish I knew what-- # What..? Aww, c'mon maaaate, don't be that prick!"

The boy twisted the dial and jumped the frequency forward, as the older man took one hand off the wheel to suddenly reach for it, but it was already gone.

"Oh you little bastard!"

Already the frequency had found a new destination, this time replacing The Church with literal church music. Some regional choir or other belting out a hymnal over the airwaves.

The older man looked at the younger.

"You can't really be telling me you're enjoying this more."

The younger looked back at the older, then started to bob his head out of rhythm to the music, as if dancing to chords that couldn't be heard.

"You'd really go mutual destruction over this..?" He looked at him again and saw the grin of utter determination creasing the younger one's face. "Of course you bloody would. Maaaate, c'mon now!" He said, once again extending a 'mate' over multiple syllables.

"Where are we going this time?"

The older man considered whether he should tell him. Why not? They were going there anyway, he'd find out soon enough.

"This time? Scotch College. In Melbourne."

"Why do we keep doing this?"

"Mate, you know I can't tell you that. If I could, I would have by now."

The younger didn't want to hear it. He turned away and looked out the window, at the brown sunburnt grass, and odd eucalypt whizzing past, as the car kept it's hundred plus kilometre pace tearing down the Western Highway. The Western Highway which a bunch of dickheads in suits had long tried to convince people they should be calling the A8, in an endeavour to knock all soul and spirit out of everything by reducing all highways and freeways in the country to a letter-number code. As they whizzed onwards Banjo could see some farmer was burning off the front paddock on his property, getting ready for a hot summer.

"There'll be a time I can tell you, and believe me, on that day, I'll spill my guts and come clean with you about a lot. And happily, mind you. Be a Hell of a relief off MY back, I can tell you. But for now, I can't. You've just gotta trust me on that."

"Now can you change the bloody station, I feel like I just broke under enhanced interrogation. Five more minutes and you should pass the bloody threshold for being reported to the Hague!"

The boy jumped the frequency forward again, until it settled on an older station playing music from the 60s and 70s. He was about to jump it forwards again when...

"What have you got, magic bloody Aussie pub jukebox fingers or something?! I was wrong before, you're not a natural. You're super-bloody-natural!" As the older man started slapping the steering wheel to the song.

He let it play.

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.31 Up Sticks In Five to Ten

Interaction(s): Cassander - @Lord Wraith, Luce - @Roman, Calliope - @PatientBean
Previously: Dickheads, Defectives and the Dilettante Dernier cri

Banjo had somehow managed to have snuck in unseen through the back entrance of the Intake House. He raced into his room and threw the rest of his P.E. uniform on over his speedos. He'd thank God for small miracles except what he could hear made it clear it was no miracle at all. Commotion from the front of the house. Little wonder he could sneak back in through the back unnoticed. They were all waiting for their rides to the Plateau out the front and it sounded like they were boarding now!

He scrambled out of the intake house, before catching himself, doing a tidy pirouette to re-balance himself, and slowing his pace to a walk.

"--noficially he's still as much a member of Blackjack as any of y'all."

Oh, he threw a y'all in there. How charmingly folksy. Hasn't hit his quota yet. But Banjo uncharactheristically kept this thought to himself, holding 'the Butler's' message about this situation being more permanent still in his mind and not doubling down on putting a target on his back for being late.

He quietly snuck in behind Blonde Sparky McGee and some blonde bird whose name escapes him because he didn't previously give a shit when people were doing initial introductions. Banjo was pretty sure the other guy's name wasn't Blonde Sparky McGee either, he was pretty sure that would have actually stuck if it was the case.
"Who's that guy?" He whispered to him.

No response. Is he hard of hearing too? Maybe the side effect of his powers. Chronic tinnitus. Made a sort of sense. He'd whisper louder.
"Who's that guy?"
"Shut. Up."

Well, that was less than polite... He was only asking a straightforward question.
"Who's that guy?"

Sparky McGee's teeth gritted so hard his face might spark up if his hands wouldn't first. To his right, Banjo could see one of his hands glowing. Geez, is this bloke really this tightly wound?
"Should have been here on time." he spat in a hushed tone through gritted teeth.

Banjo looked at him screwfaced. "The Hell'd I do to this guy?" He racked his brain. And whilst he did he wasn't ready for the answer to his question to come from the blonde bird next to him.

"Tad."

Banjo snorted. Loudly. And couldn't keep the laughter off his face after either. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes.

Big Country with his "Y'all"s glared at Banjo menacingly.

"Look what the Chancellor dragged in."

"And who's this Highway Patrol reject, while we're at it?" Which to Banjo's surprise he managed to keep to internal monologue.

"Team, this mountain of a man is Aaron Matthews, the faculty representative for your fellow new students of Team 18.”

And then a redhead alighted from one of the two vehicles. Presumably from one of the vehicles, because he couldn't see Aphrodite's clamshell anywhere. "Good Lord, do they not let in anything under an 'eight' here." He thought to himself.

Then he looked down the line at Trace. "Well... maybe they grade 'em a 'one' for each arm." Tuck that little comeback away for later... Let's face it, there will be a later.

“And this spitfire here, is Team 18’s student advisor, Ryan Clarke,” Introduced Good ol' Jim-Bob, minus the Bob. ...Regardless how well the Bob fits.

“These ones have the look of winners,” The Redheaded Ryan pronounced, declaring her opinion that Abercrombie and Fitch models are "winners".

“Yours, eh, I wouldn’t go all in just yet, Jim.”

Wait, Abercrombie and Fitch..? Banjo looked down their own line at the two "football friends" from earlier, Sparky McGee... he wasn't exactly chopped liver himself. Calliope looked like she belonged either on a catwalk somewhere or on the business end of a camera - TV or film, take your pick...

He chuckled to himself in realisation that this transparent display was just meant to spark competition...

...until he looked down the line and saw that those same "football friends" had taken that hook, the sinker, the float, the rod and half the damn boat. Goddamn. Were they REALLY this easy to manipulate?

Then she ruffled. Heh. Tad. --'s hair. “So cute.” she uttered in a demeaning way.

"No, little Banjo. She's bad for you. Stop it. You should not want that."

"Exactly, you should not. But you do. Because you are broken. And therefore clearly in need of 'Guidance'."

"No little Banjo. Bad little Banjo. You go away and think about this-- Wait, no... Don't you think about this later. I'm onto you, little Banjo..."

Ok... So yes. They really were that easy to manipulate.

“All students assigned to Team 18, you’re in the vehicle marked with an Eclipse, anyone not assigned to Team 18 can find their ride 'cause you’re not with me.” The 'super trooper' called them to fall in, and a bunch of equally hapless youths to Banjo's Blackjack Bunch bundled into their own buses and buggered off. Apparently taking their furry friend to go get flead, de-wormed and his claws clipped.

A bunch more artificial jibes, transparently designed to drum up competition, and it was their turn to get in their six wheelers and head off to the next pre-planned act of lunacy.

Banjo jumped in the back of Jim-Bob's truck before the seats were even taken - Just as he could only be a Jim-Bob (-Bob pending), the fact he WAS a Jim-Bob made it a truck. A Jim-Bob could only drive a truck - and everyone else piled in where they could. Soon enough they were off!

Banjo was bouncing around in the back, laughing his arse off at the stereotypical nature of their tour guide, his drawl, his choice of phrase and general mannerisms. Oblivious to the occasional side-eye and quizzical expression from the others his obnoxious cackling was bringing. Every aspect of this place was seemingly ridiculous to him, and his laughter even occasionally spilled into the cabin and into the background of Jim's commentary over the radio.

Until they hit the artificial cliff faces of the Southern Plateau known as the Howling Cliffs, where ironically Banjo's howls of laughter fell silent. Not because it wasn't still ridiculous to him, but rather because it was too far all over again. Back home if a Hyperhuman deigned to grace the public with such an aweinspiring display of power they'd be stuffed in a white room and stripped for parts. Probably. Banjo was never game to find out. Every time he'd used his own he'd made sure to do it in absolute privacy. And they'd always been on the run. Presumably because they'd get found out somehow and have to scarper. Purely speculation, but it made as much sense as anything.

Now he saw an entire hyperhuman-made landscape that factored in nature's acoustics in its design. It beggared belief.

Jim-Bob's truck and *Snort* Tad's car, pulled up and everyone jumped out.

Jim-Bob called to order the first business at hand. Setting up camp. Two people to a tent. No exceptions. Which didn't seem promising. Banjo thought he might be hard up to find someone who didn't seem vaguely bothered by his presence in one way or another. Maybe if he got in quick with one of the "football friends", those two seemed incredibly eager to know anybody. Nah. That's a bit dickish. Those two actually seem to get on, I'll just grab a tent, get to work and let some straggler come to me. That seemed-- "Hup... I'm getting glared at. What did I do now? Oh. Jim-Bob must have heard me laughing in the back on the way over here. I wasn't THAT loud on the way over here, was I?"

He was. Other campsites had turned to see what the commotion was at their arrival. From quite some distance away as well...

“In any capacity, while you lot do that, Tad here will get the fire going and rassle us up some grub, If ya don’t eat meat, now’s your time to speak up and Tad will get you the proper vittles, otherwise, I think we have something y’all are going to enjoy.” He Lifted his hat and smoothed his hair back before replacing the Stetson atop his head, because of course he did.

The "rassle" got another snort, and he couldn't hold back a chuckle anymore when the "vittles" sprang forth. He felt the eyes hold on him for a fraction of a beat, as they swept across all in attendance. Banjo took a deep breath and made a brief note of what was required, just to distract himself and recover his form.

"So, just... tent. Food's taken care of. Set a tent up and you're golden. Simple. Piece a piss."

“This year’s homecoming trial is centred around the massive hedge maze you see growing over yonder. Startin’ tomorrow, we’ll be sending you into the hedge and as a team, you’ll need to work together to navigate it, while also overcoming anything you encounter inside. While I can’t get into specifics with y’all, I can forewarn you that these obstacles can be anything as simple as a riddle to a trap riddle corridor to even a physical confrontation.”

"Well, shit..."

Banjo actually had a legitimate question for the matter at hand. But he could tell he'd made the man not particularly receptive to giving him an answer or... well, anything at this point. He doubted Jim-Bob would piss on him if he fell in the campfire at this point, that'd go double for Trace, and for some reason that blonde Sparky McGee kid who seemed to have his own issues with him for some reason.

Ehh... plenty of time. It's not until tomorrow. Maybe he could ferret it out of someone else, or somewhere else.

He was struggling to understand how the whole thing worked. It seemed to be at cross-purposes. They were... supposedly somehow competing with other teams... but the ultimate purpose seemed to be to divide the team into set 'houses' based on how they handled themselves. But in some way that wasn't directly related to overall aptitude. But it was a tough thing to ask even if he hadn't already pissed anyone off. This place seemed 'hyper' with the school spirit and just pointing out that it seemed cross-purposes could probably come across as if he was slagging it off. And asked from him? Only moreso. Like, was this even a thing that a set team 'won' or was it one of those 'how the game's played' things?

Then came the real horror story...

“For tonight though, y’all should try and bond as a team. Throw the old pigskin around, sing kumbaya, play truth or dare, I don’t really care so long as you actually learn about one another. Another good idea, go over your Hyper Abilities, learn your deck before you play it. Now’s the time to reveal any hidden talents.”

Team bonding and socialisation activities. Normally he wouldn't give a shit, but since his little chat with The Butler it had underlined the fact that he was going to be stuck with these people. For some time. And he hadn't exactly put up a good batting display so far. A dicey fifteen or twenty runs whilst being dropped a couple times at best. He had this horrible foreign sensation others called 'anxiety', which he was completely unfamiliar with because he usually just neglected to give a pinch of shit. He began to resent the Butler for telling him, before deciding to deal with his problems the healthy way he usually did.

By forgetting them entirely and distracting himself with something else.

He strode towards the tents with a single minded determination, before being intercepted.

"Hey, name's Calliope. I don't suppose you would be up to sharing a tent tonight?"

"Yup. Sure. All good. Just grabbing one now, if you want to find us a spot to ere-- put the thing up." He grabbed a tent and followed the slender blonde girl... to wherever on earth she planned on going, honestly.

"..."

"Hey..?"

"..."

"Hey, little Banjo--?"

"Look, just... Don't-- talk to me for a little while, mate... Just let me make sure this is all reality..."

Once Calliope had come to a stop, he swung the tent down off his back and proferred a suggestion.

"So how'd you come to this Looney Tunes Funland? Tell me 'bout yourself and I'll set this thing up. Had to do it enough back home. And it's always easier going with a distraction, where I'm not thinking too hard about the work at hand. Oh... ah... 'Banjo' if it wasn't already known." He popped his head up over the tent bag and turned to give her a grin, when it finally dawned on him to give his name in case she hadn't heard it.

"Also, truth be told, if we go through some of that here and now, we won't have to figure it all out in the 'team bonding' session they seem to have planned. Not... *huff* exactly looking forward to that." As he hauled the groundsheet and poles out of the bag.

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Working on one now.
I found PRCU's official theme, take a listen

open.spotify.com/track/4vUFscDzST4yiA…


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