Fighting For Your Life!

[strangerpeople]

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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Comments

Coffee

[tiefleaf]

Well. I don't think there's anything else I'd rather hear today.

[not paying for shit is great.]

And to whom do I owe my gratitude for this [wait fuck do medieval fantasy people know coffee] libation?

[fashionfever]

[Oh my god, he's even hotter than the roommate!

Uh, do you see those horns? LOOK, it's the DEVIL, take it from the devil on your shoulder with the little horns!

If you get to believe that god complex kid has no marbles, then I get to give this guy the benefit of the doubt for dressing up somehow.

Angela seems to have spaced out for a moment but she comes back down to earth batting her eyelashes heavily and putting her hand out IN CASE SOMEONE WANTED TO KISS IT, HYPOTHETICALLY] Angela Napoli at your service.

[tiefleaf]

[no hand smooches here, but he flashes her a devilish grin and takes a sip of that coffee.]

Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to my friends, and of offering someone a drink isn't a show of friendship, I don't know what is.

[fashionfever]

Huh, Molly, okay. [None of those names are at all typical in this context where Angela's from, but she's acquired ONE ENTIRE FRIEND! A REALLY GREAT BASTION AGAINST THE CRUSHING WEIGHT OF LONELINESS POSSIBLY IN SPACE] I'm always happy to make new friends, too!

[tiefleaf]

That's the spirit!

[ Gonna continue drinking that coffee there, Angela. ]

I mean, that's as good as we're gonna get, given the whole... kidnapping. Thing.

[fashionfever]

Well, we've all got being kidnapped in common! That's just one more thing to bond over~

[tiefleaf]

Honestly, if they're gonna kidnap us, they could at least put some damn effort into it. I mean, no one even stopped me trying to walk here!

[fashionfever]

They seem so cocky like the plastic box itself is supposed to do all the work of keeping us in.

[tiefleaf]

[ what's a plastic ]

In that case...

Anything in the rules say we can't try to bust ourselves out?