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

Um...sure.

[Still doesn't understand but she'll just roll with it.]

Maybe it's just bad luck? My family isn't really known for it's fortune, and it doesn't help that some of my original plans for last night was 'be famous again by going to Beastiecon'.

... It could definitely be bad luck for us both. But in my case, this may have actually prolonged my existence.

[ He chews his lip for a moment, thoughtful. ]

I doubt I'm going to be as lucky as I was last time I was in this situation, unfortunately; last time all the doors in the School would open for me, wherever I went, but I have a feeling this time it's not going to be so simple. Even if that did happen, I'm not sure how we'd survive space.

Yeah, that might be a little more difficult for us.

But-you think we might be in space? I thought it might just be some weird, future-y dome somewhere. Could...no, that's kind of stupid to ask at this point.

[Clearly these people could pull off a lot of things.]

The structure lacks windows, is sealed, and contains space suits. Either it's a very convincing space station replica, or we really are in a base somewhere on some planet or moon or somesuch.

[ It just makes the most sense, really. ]

[And that is why Barbara is starting to freak out a little bit.]

So. We're in space. I have somehow become one of the first people I know of to go to space.

Calvin is going to hate me.

[Why is she focusing on this? Because the other option is just completely panicking and that is going to take a lot out of her. She doesn't need that right now.]

Don't worry too much about it, Miss. We'll get out of here, and we'll all be fine.

[ He says it in a soothing tone. He seems to be used to panic attacks, hmmm. ]

What we need to do now is focus on the others here, and forming some sort of rapport. Otherwise, we won't get anywhere.

[She takes a couple deep breaths before she can talk again.]

Okay, okay. That...that sounds like a good idea. We should probably do that.

Also, what's your name? I...kind of just realized that I forgot to ask.

There's no real name that can define me, but you may call me C, if you would like.

[ That works well enough. She seems nice, but he's not willing to give out his actual name. ]

C...alright, better than nothing.

[She holds out a hand for him to shake.]

I'm Barbara. Barbara Finch. Nice to meet you, C.

[ He stares at it a moment, as if considering something, then slowly moves to shake her hand. Almost like he's... testing the gesture.

Hm. ]

... Miss Finch, then. I'm sorry the circumstances aren't better.

Agreed. But...at least it could be worse, I think?

[She's really not sure, but...sometimes you have to look on the bright side of things.]

It certainly could be. And now you have a... a friend, if you'd like one.

[ He says the word like it's, perhaps, foreign to his tongue, almost. But somehow, he feels Miss Wiltshire would approve he make friends. ]

Yeah, I have a friend. And so do you, if you want one.

[The guy may seem like an oddball, but even then he's still pretty nice. It's pretty cool that she's already got a friend in here.]

[ He lets out a quiet laugh. ]

... Just this much makes me tired. Honestly, I don't know how people do it. Socialization. But it's good that we're in accord. Hopefully, the others will be as amicable.

Eh, it's not so bad once you get used to it. Sometimes even nice. But I can understand getting tired of it.

And I'm sure a lot of them will be! I already met a nice lady named Angela, and my roommate seemed alright too. I think I might need to apologize to him for something I said now, though.

... You... had a good time with her, huh?

[ He sighs. ]

I think she thinks I'm crazy.

[She glances back at the laser she dropped on the ground before turning back to C.]

If you need to, you could always show her that thing. It's kind of a good argument against any of this being fake.

... Should we burn more bread?

[ It's a sincere question. ]

...maybe? I guess it might be better if it was something less dangerous. I'm not sure if there's anything like that here, though.

... We could burn some paper?

[ It's a thought. ]

There's dot matrix printers, so there's paper here. ... Actually, I don't know why I thought of food first...

It's a bigger target. Plus, if you want to shoot paper, you need something to keep it standing, and nobody here is going to want to be on the other side of that gun.

[Why does she talk about this like she may have experienced something like this? Little brothers.]

Fighting For Your Life!

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