15strangers | Fighting For Your Life!

WELL SH*IKSSHSH*

[The first thing you feel when you finally come to is a headache.

The bad thing is that it's not even a painful headache - it's one of those annoying headaches that's just below the threshold of pain, and it's centered right in the middle of your forehead. Just...ugh. Where's the aspirin?

For that matter, actually, where are you? This is not your beautiful house! In fact, as get out of your bed, you realize this place isn't even remotely a home. And whatever you're wearing isn't even remotely what you recall wearing. ~~(I mean, yeah, it's not uncomfortable, and whoever dressed you was kind enough to make sure you had underwear on, I suppose. That's one less thing to worry about, right?)~~

Also, you have a weird wrist...watch...comm...thing on you, which is nice. Or at least it would be, if it and every other computer in the place didn't suddenly start making the second most ungodly noise you will no doubt come to hear in this place. The noise is followed by a a message on every desktop in the area, which won't be disappearing any time soon. Thankfully, your nifty wristwatch comm is spared this unavoidable screen, and tapping a button let's it disappear to reveal a simple profile interface, alongside a a text, calling, and photo function. Something tells you those latter two won't be particularly useful to you in the long run.

In any case, apparently you now have a Title, as well as a power, even if you've never had one before. Why? Where the hell are you? Who else is with you? Can you get out?

And...is someone laughing? The sound seems to bounce off and echo faintly throughout the floors. It's high-pitched, and - as you get closer to the theater - it gets just a little louder and just a little more grating. It sounds like a rabid hyena that huffed helium. Hopefully, it's just a movie or something that can be turned off. Someone ought to go in and do that.

In the meantime, welcome, Titled - and good luck.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... I suppose so.

[ Sideglance. ]

What would you suggest?

Find whatever's behind this and kick its butt.

[It is a time-honored family tradition to solve your problems with a whip and/or punching, after all.]

... You do that, then. And good luck to you, Mister...?

[ He smiles. He is not going to fight. ]

Morris. First name Jonathan.

[He smiles back, doing a very good job of hiding how rattled he is.

At least that's what he thinks.]

... Mister Morris, then. Well... I'm not sure that'll go too well, but if you want to die, be my guest.

[ AFTER YOU. ]

Well, my grandfather wasn't even thirty when he died. Not like there's a family tradition of living a long time or anything.

[Was that brittle? A little bristly? Probably. It's a raw nerve, though.]

...

[ A smile. ]

Mister Morris, do you have some family issues pertaining to mortality?

[The answer to that expression is less a smile than a grimace that's trying real hard to be friendly.]

You could say that, yeah.

You're displaying it rather openly.

[ Stated plainly. ]

If you've that much issue with dying, I'd suggest you take a seat and not become your grandfather.

Look, I'm pretty sure whoever wrote that isn't Dracula. I thank you for your concern, but whatever's going on here can't be worse than what I've been trained to deal with my whole life.

[Okay, the sarcasm was a little high there, and he just met this guy...

He sighs.]

Sorry. That was uncalled for.

[ ... He's quiet for a moment, before he just chuckles. ]

So your inner demons are more like outer nightmares. Are you some kind of vampire slayer, Mister Morris?

"Some kind of", ha... I'm supposed to be, and the Church definitely thinks I am, so I guess I really do count as one.

[He shrugs. Under normal circumstances he might explain more than that, but this is definitely not normal.]

The Church? Sounds like you fancy yourself important, in that case. Where I'm from, the only Church that matters is the store.

It's pathetic.

[ He says this honestly. ]

They worship money.

I think the guy who founded the whole thing might have some words about that. A few tables to flip, too.

[Not that he's unused to very mercenary priests, far from it in fact....]

And I'm not important. Who my ancestors were, that's the important part... not like I like that much, but you can't pick your family, right?

... No, you can't.

[ He looks rather sad when that subject is brought up, glancing to the side. ]

You can't do anything about who your family is.

Aw, hell, I didn't mean to bring up anything bad, I just don't think sometimes. A lot of times. You can pick who your friends are, at least... the people you trust, that's your decision, who they are. Might not mean much, but it's something at least, right?

... To be upset like that is a human emotion. It's a privilege to even be able to feel it.

[ He just. Smiles.

Yes, he's resorting to that. ]

[It's not pity, not precisely, the expression on Jonathan's face. Nor is it confusion, not entirely. It's neither of those as much as it's both.]

I... guess you're right, but God, what a way of putting it....

[ He's still smiling. In fact, if there's any trace of upset, it's either gone or he's buried it quite fast. ]

It's not something you need worry about. After all, once I leave this body, emotions like those will not be my concern anymore.

Well, that's one way of looking at it... kind of morbid if you ask me, but....

Fighting For Your Life!

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For the record - and I should go put this on the permissions post - FOURTHWALLING IS A-OK

I doubt he played Castlevania but he sure af knows other vampire stuff

Excellent. C8

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