Platypus!
As if on some sort of cue, the door to the conference room swung open, revealing a man dressed in a spotless black and white tuxedo, only the red tie hanging ever so slightly off center, as one might imagine an obsessive-compulsive's flippant gesture to the establishment, hinting that the man was not a robot. Vladimir was not a robot, far from it, but he knew to appreciate dressing sharp.
"Sorry for being late." He said, his voice marred by a Russian accent so thick that anyone who had actually met a Russian, let alone heard one speak, would suspect parody of some sort. "There vas... complication." He took a chair at John's right-hand side, offering no comment on the topic. "Then again, complications is the things ve do, yes?"
edited 3rd Sep '11 5:14:51 PM by slowzombie
Liveblog | Deadblog
Thou errant flap-dragon!
It feels so wrong.
He doesn't take time to look for the objects described by the voice. The most important thing is to scratch under the collar until he's as comfortable as he can be in it.
Snarling curses in German, the boy— or man, but if that was the case he could not be older than twenty -five— finishes the scratching and stuffs the card in one of the inside pockets of his long brown coat. As promised, a message on the phone tells him everything.
And the trinket. A syringe. Am I a doctor?
Arzt. It's the brand of the syringe.
What he does know about himself now is that he has no imagination.
The lad who calls himself Arzt raises his eyebrows at the syringe in his hand. Fun times ahead? He also stows that in a coat pocket and looks at the three people on his team.
Cute chicks here.
My phone is out of battery.
edited 3rd Sep '11 5:17:40 PM by snowfoxofdeath
Warm hugs and morally questionable advice given here. Prosey Bitchfest
A teenager, one of a few in one of the rooms, stared at the TV. His ratlike features were immediately full of distress. He was dressed nicely, in a starched white formal shirt and khakis. Like his mind, they were frayed and battered, somehow, He did indeed have a card, which he rammed into his pocket, and an iPod. One song was playing, at full volume. He could hear it from the earbuds which snaked out of it and laid in his lap.
Like a fellow once said, AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAAAD?!
He looked around the room, cautiously.
"i d—I—um—" you could hear the lowercase letters as he spoke. "what—what's happening?! who—" he graduated from all lowercase to capitals. "WHA-AAAA!! WHAT IS HHHAPPENING?! Am—I CAN'T REMEMBER MY NAAAME!"
The boy was not in his comfort zone. He may not have known of a past, but he knew he liked knowing things, and that he, like many teenagers, was easily shaken when he didn't understand something, so he did the best he could:
The boy curled up, held his hands over his head, and started crying, in great gasping sobs.
The woman stood up, brushing off her long dress.
She opened her hand; the one voice had said would contain a trinket, and inside was plastic toy ring. She wondered briefly if it was important to her, and then put it on. She put the card in the same pocket as the cell phone without looking at either.
The nameless woman glanced around the room, taking no more notice of the other people inside than she did of the furniture.
She sat down on the bed, and waited. Something was very wrong here. It was just a matter of waiting and seeing what it was.
Alex Wright smiled at Suki and Cole greeted them. And he was Alex at the moment, he was better at meeting people than Gear, and there was no need for Gear's suspicion or judgemental nature right now. These people were his allies, at least for now.
But Gear wasn't quiet in Alex's mind. Far from it. He was laughing. He'd been doing nothing but bide his time, waiting for the Orchestrator to return, since Engel died.
Alex let Gear's smile spread across his face. "Nice to meet you all! We've got a big job ahead of us, don't we!"
She awakens, her head swirling and a feeling like having been punched in the gut, to the nondescript announcer's voice from the television. Upon the mentioning of memories, she is led to try remembering what she can. But all there is, is a numbness, like in the dentist before they perform a painful root canal in your mouth.
There are other people beside her, similarly dazed and confused.
When the announcer finishes, it takes her a moment to digest all of what he's said. Trinket? Secret cards? Ooohoho. She reaches into the black Catholic uniform she wears and finds the cell phone the meng has promised, along with a sharpened 2B pencil and a thick, elaborately designed tarot card.
She glances at each of them, scrutinizing carefully for any trick design they may've put, and after feeling satisfied, she turns to the people beside her. Maybe they have made a better heads or tails of their predicament.
"What the fuck is happening? Anyone know?" Pencil blurts. "Me duele la cabeza.." She rubs her glistening brow.
The room seems to thunder alive, rumbling above and around her with the howls of passing engines.
edited 3rd Sep '11 5:44:51 PM by QQQQQ
Dancing All Night
Rosa was still a little woozy from waking up- actually, a lot woozy. Like when you get woken up in the middle of the night... Perhaps she just wasn't a morning person. Tired as she was, the voice on the television was pretty clear. If she didn't do this game, she was going to die.
She rubbed her green eyes and moved a stray strand of her white hair behind her ear. She noticed she had a rosary in her hand, its silver cross adorned with meticulously detailed designs engraved around glistening jewels.
She needed to call herself something... "Rosary" wasn't exactly a name...
Rosa. Rosa would work. She could be Rosa.
She did another once-over of the rosary before placing it around her neck. Whomever originally gave this to her must've cared about her.
She felt terrified, confused... But for some reason, she felt as if she couldn't show it. Her innermost feelings- one of the most primal at that... Just simply refused to make themselves visible. Maybe it was because she was tired? Shocked?
She checked her card and the message on her phone. She deleted the text message and placed her newly-acquired belongings in a white purse that was with her.
She shakily stood up, and brushed herself off... Only to notice the two men in the room.
One of which had just looked at her.
She could've sworn that her heart had stopped right there, and felt like she was going to faint. Her pale face flushed into a deep shade of red, and an expression of fear was quite visible in her tired eyes. She quickly dropped back behind a piece of furniture, curling up and overall trying to be as small as possible.
Don't notice me don't notice me don't notice medontnoticemedontnoticemedontnoticeme...
"Yeah! We do!" Cole responded with enthusiasm, his animated movements embodying his apparent spirit.
"Not quite yet, unfortunately," The Hispanic man replied, adjusting his glasses, "I'm Bryon. Bryon Samuel." He gave a firm handshake to each of the newcomers, "Sadly, we haven't been able to detect any activity from him, but we've certainly got a lot on her plate with... other groups using the chaos from the whacked-out climate and fuss over DC to their own ends."
edited 3rd Sep '11 5:49:34 PM by Motree
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."
He came to, and his mind was blank until he suddenly realized that he was on a floor, somewhere.
When the voice greeted his room, the well-built 6' 3" Caucasian man quickly got to his feet and started brushing dirt off of a clean, blindingly white labcoat. His expression was blank as he mulled over the words, taking quick glances at the three other men in the room, and the objects in his hands. Glancing down at himself, he noticed that he seemed overdressed for any job requiring a labcoat- a tie, waistcoat, linen dress shirt, black suit pants, really nice shoes. He didn't particularly care; he actually liked how it fit. The card went into his waistcoat's breast pocket, and he took to examining his trinket. A vintage-looking navigation compass that appeared to be broken- the needle was stuck pointing to the west instead of the north, like it should.
He tapped the compass' glass covering, and shook it. It adamantly pointed to the west. West it was. At the very least, 'West' was an actual name- a diminutive of names such as Westley.
He now had a name, but the deadpan announcement of his current situation didn't even seem to bother him- outwardly, at least. A death game, possibly meant to reduce him, his target, and all others in the game to their most feral instincts.
West pushed his rectangular-framed glasses up by their corner.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, questions surrounding its circumstances continually crossed his mind, who and why being the first. He pretended to outwardly retreat into answering those questions while still keeping close watch over his teammates.
edited 3rd Sep '11 6:19:32 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
The woman with the ring- 'Ring', she decides, is as good a name as any- made direct eye contact with the woman with the pencil who had just spoke, asking what was going on.
She shrugged and looked away.
She doesn't know anything. How disappointing, she thought.
Pencil notices the woman shrugging, and tries asking her, "Do you know where we are? I think I hear NASCAR.." She deftly twirls her yellow pencil between her fingers, while glancing once more at the TV's static — as if expecting a last-minute postscript transmission.
edited 3rd Sep '11 6:06:42 PM by QQQQQ
As soon as she heard the voice, Mary got up. She took a look around as she confirmed what the voice told her. Checking her card, she assessed the data provided.
One: I'm not dead.
Two: I whoever brought me here can kill me whenever they want to.
Conclusion: They don't want me dead, yet.
Three: The voice called this a game.
Conclusion: They haven't killed us because we are entertainment.
Four: We each have to kill someone.
Five: All we know is what there card is.
Conclusion: My card is my biggest secret.
Conclusion: The only way to survive is to play the game.
Conclusion: I need the others to trust me.
Conclusion: I must be innocent. They must think, upon seeing me, that I am no threat.
Conclusion: I can't be myself.
She glances at her trinket, This reminds me of that one story I heard...
Six: I have no memories.
Conclusion: My biggest goal shouldn't be to win the game, but to get back my memories.
Thou errant flap-dragon!
Arzt takes time to assess his other possessions. The coat is nice. He has rectangular glasses with plastic frames. When removed, his world becomes a blur, so they must be prescription. He can see himself in the television. His hair is light brown or dark blond; his countenance is sour. He can't tell what color his eyes are. Maybe hazel?
He approaches the woman cowering behind the chair and looks down at her, frowning. What the fuck is she so scared of? No one in this room will kill her.
"Hello," he says in English. "What the hell are you doing?"
edited 9th Sep '11 9:24:52 PM by snowfoxofdeath
Warm hugs and morally questionable advice given here. Prosey Bitchfest
Mary looks around, and sees the others with her, Ok, how should I play this? Overly exuberant, yet clueless? Hopelessly naive? Quiet and fearful? Confused? She considers her options for a moment, Quiet and fearful it is, then. Well, time to start with the act... She makes herself seem smaller, collapsing her chest, bringing her hands to her face, and bending her knees slightly. She whimpers slightly, yet loud enough for everyone to hear her.
Dancing All Night
"... Ah- um... uh..." His straightforwardness was making this even more difficult than it needed to be.
G- Get ahold of yourself... She mentally tried to tell herself as she forced herself to stand and brush herself off again.
". . . I'm sorry," She managed to say. From her accent, one would be able to tell that she was from Belgium or Germany* , ". . . I suddenly felt fearful of you and the other man."
Though she was trying to face Arzt, her eyes were cast down towards the ground.
". . . I apologize."
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."
The boy in the nice disheveled clothes took a deep breath and straightened out. He put the earbuds in his ear, and listened. His pulse slowed immediately and he calmed down. He wiped his tears and felt the nice, soft bed underneath him.
How lucky can one guy be...
He looked at what it was: Ain't That a Kick in the Head by Dean Martin. Dean. Nice name.
Dean looked around, music still playing through him. Calming him. "So... How's—everyone go—do—b—Uhhh, I'm Dean. Dean Martin. What's everyone else's name? And, uh, I figure if we won't kill eachother, ever, we could reveal—" something told Dean these people were not to be trusted. He stopped himself. "Our plans, what to do next."
Then Pencil recalls the more devastating details from the announcer — the tarot card in her possession has a far higher significance than she'd thought of it as Celtic black magic (the kind of more legitimate fortune telling you'd get). Did he say she's supposed to kill someone else for their card?
Aaahh, that means there'll be one hunting for her head. This is no good. Examining her card closely reveals no more insight other than the suit, and that the illustration is nice looking.
But killing.. in her heart it wrenches and she almost loses it. Deep inside she knows she's not a killing type, it's just wrong!
She almost tosses the card away in distain for this sick game, when she feels something around her neck. Thumbing there, it's a metal collar! Like a cumbersome necklace to wear, and the announcer said it'll explode if she tries escaping, right? Who wouldn't want to? Except for those who'd take a sick thrill out of murder, or those sociopaths who'd do anything for their sake.
I don't want to murder.. but I must. She lowers her head, shrinking. If I do.. I'll become a horrible human being.
For blood will stain her hands deeper than the most pungent dye can wash.
Her thought run erratic, trying to think of a way out of this mess.
edited 3rd Sep '11 7:09:02 PM by QQQQQ
I'm indifferent!
Groggily, a man awoke to the sound of a teenage, rat-like boy panicking. He found himself to be fairly comfortable, without any aches from having been on the floor for what was presumably a long time, which was a pleasant surprise. He also found himself to be completely without memory of any moment in his life prior to waking up a few seconds before, which was not.
“何......”(Nani…) he asked to the world in general, not entirely aware at the moment that nobody else in the room understood much of his language, or even the fact that there were multiple languages, as he slowly stood up. This was not to say that he had lost memory of the distinction between Japanese and, say, Chinese—he just wasn’t actually thinking, “Well golly gee wiz, I’m speaking and thinking in the Japanese language right now! How swell!” at the moment, due to not being a complete and utter moron. Instead, he looked around at his, “roommates,” and noticed that they didn’t appear Japanese(It’s worth mentioning that this, the first thought he had that referenced anything related to the existence of other people, left his brain and memory without much fanfare. He had spent a good thirty five years thinking thoughts, and just because he didn’t remember any of them didn’t mean that he treasured each and every new one)—before turning his attention to the television screen, which had begun telling his no doubt now confused fellow victims that, “Boku wa kisama ga kiite o shisa. Sou shinai baai, kore wa imi gadeshou.”
He frowned at its basic message, understanding it about as much as his English speaking comrades.
He had a phone. He had a card in his hand that revealed nothing to him upon looking at it other than what his identity was—it looked like it’s image was painted, not computer generated, and it didn’t look even remotely similar to a basic western poker deck, or a kabufuda, hanafuda, or even uta-garuta deck for that matter. It didn’t even look like a children’s deck of cards. Instead, it showed an image that the man recognized as a somewhat familiar picture, over a set of English letters that seemed to make no sense at all when he pronounced them in his head. But then, the English language was well known for all its stupid clauses on pronunciation. For all he knew, it was pronounced, “This card is typically known as the ace of spades, my dear chap. Please ignore the above picture. We included it because we thought it’d be amusing,” in English.
He had what appeared to be the handle of an umbrella in his other hand. He had a credit card.
And, of course, he had something straight out of the western movie, “Saw,” around his neck—he vaguely recalled Saw three thousand forty seven having a similar contraption. Feeling it, he began to panic, realizing that the voice’s assertion that he had no memories was, in fact, true. Just what the hell was going on? Why was he here? Why didn’t he have any memory of his life, yet still remembered a crappy western torture porn movie that he saw…actually, he had no idea when he saw it, but that was beside the point. What did they mean, “explode?” Power? He had a power? What did they think this was, a shounen anime? Wait, was this some sort of prank? Was he in a game show? He vaguely recalled classic Japanese comedy, and realized that this was fairly likely, and in fact not that unusual a set up—given the recent trend in the newer ones to do things like send the contestants into alternate dimensions, teleport them into crowded cities without any clothes on, and force them to save the entire planet, wiping a few people’s memories and lying to them about having super powers was mild in comparison. But what was this more like? “Susunu! Denpa Shounen,” or, “The Truman Show”?
He stopped.
He looked around, observing his fellow contestants, before looking down at himself.
None of them were naked.
Not even the girl.
He felt a chill go down his spine. Such things were considered blasphemy in Japanese television. And America had laws against kidnapping people and wiping their memories, despite them usually being fairly lax about such things. And the rest of the world had morals.
Which meant…this wasn’t a game show. This was actually something like Saw, only far less stupid, and presumably without any sequels.
He was actually in trouble.
edited 3rd Sep '11 7:05:08 PM by FakeCrowley
You know what I hate? Hypocrites. That and obscure self-referential statements.
highly secure
There were cars racing along the streets. NASCAR didn't do that. He stared out of the window for a good thirty seconds, before—Racing. Grand Prix. Monaco Grand Prix.
I am in Monaco. Monaco is a city-state located in Western Europe. It is surrounded by its neighbor, France. It is ruled under a constitutional monarchy by Prince Albert II.
His settings were upper-class, to be sure. At least he had a passable idea of where he was.
He closed his eyes. Who am I? He didn’t know. And, as he continued asking himself questions, he realized that not a single bit of information that might be even tangentially related to the question “Who am I?” remained.
In his hand, he found a piece of mirror, gleaming as the sun poked into the room through half-drawn curtains. Crudely scratched onto the edge of the mirror was the letter “J.”
Somebody stared back at him from the mirror. One second, two seconds, and he tried to determine what strange trick was being played, and then he realized—the face was his. But he had never combed his hair before; he had never spoken with those lips. The only action he had ever performed in his entire life was that of flipping the channels on a television.
My new reality.
His name was “Jay,” as dictated by the object assigned to him by the administrators of the game. He would play by the rules. If they wanted a fair game, if they wanted a bloodsport, then they would receive one.
If he tried to escape, he would die. If he tried to fight back, he would die. Reality had been forcefully imposed upon him.
His hand clasped around the cellphone in his pocket. After powering it on, he flipped to the message that the voice had spoken of. Listed there was his own identity and the identity of his target, as promised. He felt like a hitman, and his lips curled slightly in distaste. He was a hitman.
More than that, judging by the short paragraph describing the supernatural powers granted to him by the tarot card pressing into his side, he was a superpowered hitman. Jay found this more agreeable than being nothing but a mundane criminal.
He took a quick glance around the room. All three of his “teammates” were women, about his age. One of them whimpered. Another looked horrified. Maybe they wouldn’t survive. He supposed that he would have to put effort into keeping them alive; the most optimal outcome of the entire thing would be half the players surviving; he could be held responsible for his own team. In that case, only eight people would be murdered, as opposed to a dozen, or fifteen. Innocent life held value.
In addition, they could cooperate. Isolating, surrounding, and then eliminating those confirmed to be hunting one of them would reduce the risk involved for one person, and if the action was reciprocated, everybody would be a great deal safer.
Cooperation. Okay then.
“Hello. I’m Jay,” he said, walking towards his teammates. “You can introduce yourselves, and then we can begin work.”
edited 5th Sep '11 2:43:19 PM by Chubert
Whatcha gonna do, little buckaroo? | i be pimpin' madoka fics
Right, because we know what are real names are. I have no doubt that we all lack in memories. Idiot. Mary whimpers and takes a step back.
Hurr
Her eyes jolted open, to the sight of white porcelain. Was there any other kind of porcelain? She tried to lift her head. The voice was still ringing in her ears, lingering but silent.
No. She heard other voices, that were actually somewhere near. She was in a bathroom. Her vision was still fuzzy, but she could tell. She hoisted herself up, an arm resting on the noticeably clean toilet seat. Her eyes fluttered for a few moments, then she looked in the mirror.
Her hair was odd. Long and black, with blue highlights. She looked like a scene kid or something. For some reason, her image looked so...unfamiliar to her. She had no idea who she was...
She looked in her shirt pocket, finding an open, half-full bag of Wild Berry Skittles...She couldn't think of her own name, and she decided to go with Cherry. She remembered seeing a movie once with a black-haired girl named Cherry. She popped one Skittle into her mouth. It was red.
She walked out of the bathroom, trying to think to herself and process everything she was told.
She then noticed the three people in the hotel room.
edited 3rd Sep '11 7:28:05 PM by Saturn
Ring looked at the girl whimpering in the corner cooly. She looked away, apparently in dismissal.
Hmm. Looks like two out of three allies are useless. Though maybe they're just taking a while to get used to things. I hope that's it, or we'll be at quite the disadvantage. That man, though…
She looked directly at Jay. "Ring," she said, pointing at herself.
What? Thought Gear, outraged. Things finally start moving again, but I have to spend my time hunting down nobodies who think they can exploit him? What a waste of time.
Thank god, thought Alex, relieved. I don't care who it is, nobody's as dangerous as him. I need to do all the preparation I can before the time comes.
"I see," he said, still seeming as cheerful as before. "Well, I'm sure that needs doing, then. Care to tell us the details?"
He wasn't sure which person he was, right now. He rarely knew for certain. He supposed that, ideally, he'd eventually find a median between the two, a real identity for himself. The problem was that while Alex and Gear didn't agree on much, they both agreed that they didn't want to become the other.
Alex Wright was a coward; a spineless petty thief who'd gotten in over his head.
Gear was a manipulative, morally bankrupt serial killer who cared about no one but himself.
The two of them rattled around in the young man's head, arguing and vying for control.
edited 3rd Sep '11 7:49:22 PM by Gilphon
The two shaking their hands brings Pencil out of despair, enough to realise they're only in the same situation she is. She stands, brushing her hair nicely, and gives their hands a loose shake.
"I'm.. err, Pencil," she says. "I don't know about my real name. I wish I can remember.. about who I am, but something messed with my head, and I can only go so much recalling that I woke up here."
edited 3rd Sep '11 7:41:05 PM by QQQQQ
Dean swiveled his gaze towards the Asian man in the room. He dimly heard him say something over Deano's crooning, and, figuring conversation would be hard with earbuds in, removed them. "Um. I—Can, You, Understand, Me, Sir?"
He scratched at his collar, and then realized there was an explosive collar around his neck. He jumped slightly and yelped. "The he—is—are we doing Battle Royale? I—how do I know that? I—Did I read it in school? Can—okay, let's assume that and move on. Read a book, now I know more of my life OH MY GOD I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING THAT'S RIGHT!!" he once again fell back; he was not crying anymore, simply breathing. Heavily, and quickly, panicking.
Ok, here goes nothing. Mary speaks, "I-I'm B-bloody Mary..." As she speaks, her voice shrinks to almost nothing.
Dancing All Night
"Well, we won't be doing anything until everyone's acquainted with each other-" Suki started, before being cut off by the eager Cole.
"Let's see..." Cole thought for a moment, "Oh! I know a few things! There's been a lot of illegal mermaid attacks, for one thing! And the CHIMERA group is starting to get a lot more active! Then again, I heard that the artificial mermaid girl... Natalie, I think, was also trying to kill John... But wait, aren't they capitalizing on the chaos he's causing?..." Cole seemed to be in thought, "I'm confused now!" He shrugged his shoulders, resigned, and let out a laugh.
The man in the back let out an amused sigh, while his son simply rolled his eyes.
edited 3rd Sep '11 8:34:22 PM by Motree
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."
Elizabeth checked her phone for what had to have been the 20th time in an hour. She cast a glance over to the screen door of the hotel, shades drawn. An urge came over her, not the first time it had waiting, to step outside and observe the moon’s light as it danced along the water’s edge, casting figures of light and shadow on the many yachts and boats large and small resting there, swaying gently in place. She always loved to do that, as it gave her a feeling that she could be calm and collected, a feeling she desperately yearned to have now. For the 21st time, she checked her phone again, an expression of worry covering her face as she tapped her foot with slight impatience. Where is he?, she thought worriedly, walking over to the bed and sitting at its edge. Oh god, I hope nothing happened to him...
Then, without warning, her cell phone rang. Startled out of her worried focus, she checked the Caller ID, which read unknown. Answering it, she spoke with a tone of confusion and uncertainty. "Hello…?"
The voice that replied nearly made her heart stop. "Change of plans, I need you to meet me here."
"Where-", she started, but the caller hung up before she could finish. Shortly after, she received an image of a leather couch and a TV screen, mounted on a wood-panel wall. Elizabeth gave out a loud sigh of annoyance, before standing up and closing her eyes.
She felt the ground vanish beneath her before landing somewhat uncomfortably, the feel of cool leather greeting her face as she landed. She looked up slowly, blowing a lock of black hair out of her face as she got off the couch and stood up, smoothing her skirt. "I really don’t see why we couldn’t have just met here, in my own home, rather than have me wait for you at some ho-", she began, before fully processing who was standing in front of her… and more importantly, what he was doing.
He was leaning against a desk, in a small office connected to the far end of the room, business suit unbuttoned to shoe the white-collared shirt, vest and tie he wore underneath. His fedora and sunglasses were on, as always, and he was currently busy clipping his nails with the nail clipper she kept in her bathroom. Now, on the one hand, it was really him, in the flesh, which meant he was alive and well... but on the other, he had been here for a bit now, and had been snooping around.
Finally, he looked up, as if he hadn’t even heard her drop in. He looked to the nail clipper, then back to her, tossing it her way. "Sorry about that, my nails really needed a trim."
Elizabeth caught it with a look of anger on her face, before tossing it aside and storming his way. "Why you son of a-", she began, quickly crossing the distance, before she caved, all anger flowing away as she embraced him. Neither said anything, at first, and she could feel his body stiffen at her touch, but she didn’t let go and he didn’t stop her.
Finally, after several long moments, she stepped back, crossing her arms. "It’s been too long, John."
"It’s been far too long." Standing upright, he walked out of the office and past the couch, letting his fingertips skim over the cool surface as his shoes reverberated against the wood panel floor.
Elizabeth followed, stopping at the end of the couch as he stopped on the opposite end, turning to face her.
"It’s been… almost a year now since-"
"Since the D.C. Incident," Elizabeth interrupted, crossing her arms. "I know all about that, John. You told me all this. I just don’t understand how it involves me."
"I’m getting to that." Bringing up a small ball of light in his hand, John let it dart around his arm, the light leaving a glowing trail behind it. "The OCMPA is no doubt after me. That much is obvious. What they don’t realize is just how far the matter will be pushed to find me."
"They sent him after you? Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked, incredulous.
"Not just him, I’m afraid."
"How many more are coming here, then?"
"I cannot say. But that’s beside the point now. The point I’m trying to make is..."
John stopped there, trying to find the right words. Elizabeth found this odd, because from her experience he always knew what to say. When he spoke again, it was with… wavering confidence. "While I cannot speak for those of this world, I think that something’s always known, from their own perspective. What we once thought to be truth, to be irrefutable fact, is not as it seems. Oftentimes it is known, to some, that what we believe to be true never was.", he began, observing the ball as it darted around. "But despite what was at most a temporary fact, if factual at all, it does not change the fact that we held it to be truth for longer than we can remember. That is why I will forever hold this statement to be irrefutable truth, Elizabeth, no matter how scarcely things can be forever deemed that: Through lies and deceit, a new truth is born."
Elizabeth considered his words for a moment. It made sense, to her, how he could come to such conclusions, but one question still rung in her head, one she had to voice now:
"What do you want me to do?"
The faintest of smiles graced John’s face. "Listen carefully…"
John heard the crunch of grass beneath his feet as they landed, thankfully more upright than Elizabeth’s previous landing in her living room. Stone surrounded them, the moon’s light shining down on them like bars.
"Let’s get started.", he said, centering himself in the ring.
"John, are you sure you should be doing this?", Elizabeth asked, concerned.
"There’s no time to worry about that. Just start the process."
Stepping outside the ring, Elizabeth raised both hands and spread them wide. Almost immediately, a translucent dome, almost like a bubble, surrounded John and the stone ring. Taking one quick breath, John didn’t hesitate. Raising a single hand in front of him, he created a portal, and stepped through, the portal closing behind him.
He was immediately surrounded by a vast, white space of almost nothingness. Black smoke drifted along, as if it was dissolving in water. Or spreading throughout the air. It seems its influence has spread somewhat... no matter; I would’ve been a fool to think this would go off without a hitch. Concentrating as much as he could, John began to summon every bit of energy in the area he could into a single ball, floating weightlessly in front of him as he joined it in floating through nothingness.
The first sign he ever got that this might fail was that doing just that took much more energy than he anticipated, even in his weakened state. Still, he pressed on, summoning another portal, and more swiftly after. By this point, John couldn’t see, as he was searching through his own mind for what he needed, and gave up seeing for the time being. He knew it was a gamble, as he wouldn’t know the results, but he had to do what was necessary for this to work.
Slowly, one by one, he found them. Wherever they might be, however near or far, they heard his voice, knowing that it was time.
"Brothers, Sisters... your assistance is required."
In a flash of light, they were gone from their previous locations, but before they could be greeted and informed of the circumstances, everything went haywire. The sphere of light John had held slowly became grey, and throwing them all violently out of a portal above the ground in the stone ring was all that John could do before he was forced to fight the power surging within him.
It almost won out. It felt as though his own body was rebelling against him, like every bone in his body had a mind of its own and wanted out of his skin. It became so powerful he had to use his own power to fight it.
Bands of light appeared around his body, as a sort of shield to the energy. Despite that, it broke through after a small struggle. He went up in power, the bands covering more of his body like armor, but that did only somewhat better.
Finally John went all out, his body exploding into light and reforming itself, taking the energy within him and melding it. That seemed to do the trick, although as he took in what he’d done, and reverted back, he realized how bad a decision that was. Losing all control except to make sure he stayed in the stone circle, he dropped the clothing on his upper body torn to shreds.
For a moment, it seemed as though John couldn’t feel much. He had regained his sight quickly, seeing that he was still in the center of the circle, with those he had summoned around him, barely holding any consciousness.
Elizabeth immediately dropped the barrier, rushing over to him. "I’m fine," he told her before she could fully understand what she was seeing, or if it was even real. "Get them to the safe house."
She nodded, visibly worried, walking over to each in turn. All that they would see in their state was a woman leaning over them, telling them not to worry before all faded to black.
With a small flash of light, the last of his own energy spent repairing his clothes, John lay there, only able to speak three words quietly before blacking out.
"Damn you, Engel…"
Orchestra
It had been about a week since the summoning had occurred, and John couldn’t be more pissed. More had gone wrong than he thought, and he couldn’t do a thing about it now. Instead of summoning everyone he had meant to, one had been different. To make matters worse, he had summoned her. And now he had been running errands for her on account of Elizabeth taking her side, which was why, rubbing his eyelids for what had to have been one time too many today, he sat in the conference room with her. Elizabeth’s home had gone through some remodeling, adding a second, third and fourth basement floor to the already underground home. The room they were currently in on the second basement floor wasn’t particularly large, having only six chairs at a half-circle table. John sat at the lone end of the table, across from her, with two chairs on either side of her. A few boxes were stacked behind John, which he kept aware of in his mind, focusing his attention on the wall mounted clock behind her.
"They should be here any minute now...", he muttered, looking to the door to his right as if expecting it to open on cue. While he was the slightest bit curious to hear what they all did during the week out, he was much more concerned with getting underway… Tick or no Tick.
Contestants
If the sound of speeding motors and cheering just nearby didn’t wake them, the realization they were all on the floor would.
A voice drifted through the room, easily identified as coming from a TV in the room, as it flickered to life, although no image appeared on the screen.
"I’d suggest you listen up, as much won’t make sense unless you do.", a nondescript voice told them. Whether they listened or not, the voice continued, as it seemed the voice was determined to tell them what they needed to hear, whether they liked it or not.
"You can’t remember anything about yourself or how you got here, and there’s a collar on your neck that’s rigged to explode under certain conditions." Any examination into the statement would prove, for the most part, surprisingly true, save for whether the collar was explosive- they couldn’t remember a thing. Still, with shock setting in, the voice continued.
"In one hand, you hold a trinket of some sort, and in the other, a card. In your back pockets are credit cards, and in your pocket is a cell phone." A quick examination would tell them that this was also true.
"Now to explain in earnest what’s going on- You’ve been chosen to partake in a game of sorts. That collar on your neck will detonate if you don’t complete your objective within 50 days, or attempt to escape. Your objective is simple: You will find, on your cell phones, a text message describing three things. The first is your secret identification. Keep that identity as secret as you can, as you’ll live longer if you do so. The third thing is another piece of identification, similar to your own. Save for the three in the room with you, there are twelve others. Among those twelve is someone who is identified by that description. You must find and eliminate that person. To accomplish this, your card has a power, powers detailed for you that you will not grasp immediately. That is your only weapon to accomplish your goal. Now, look at the three around you. They are your teammates, people you are guaranteed throughout the course of this game to not have to kill. Working together will be the key to your survival."
The voice stopped for a moment, to let the information sink in. Then, it continued.
"To give you time to get used to your new reality, the first day will not start until tomorrow, so consider this a day zero of sorts. I bid you good luck."
The TV turned off, leaving the contestants alone to grasp the truth.
This OP has been provided to you by Motree.
OCMPA
The room was silent. Silent, save for the the footsteps of the occasional passerby. The morning sun streamed through the clerestory windows and stained glass on the Eastern wall, the gentle yellow light and soft cascade of colors gracing the marble floors of the old, empty church.
Up upon the altar of the church stood five individuals, waiting for the people whom they had summoned to meet with them at this holy place.
A pale, light-haired young man seemed to be a bit excited and unable to sit still, beaming like a young child on their birthday or Christmas morning, his cheerful expression at odds with his light green eyes, which seem cold and lifeless like those of a fine porcelain doll. Next to him stood a bespectacled Hispanic man, who was leafing through and reading up on various files. An Asian woman was casually sitting in one of the pews, while another Caucasian man seemed to be examining the ornate church organ with mild interest. Next to him stood a young boy of about six who could have passed as a younger, emotionless version of the man.
The mahogany door, relatively simple in comparison with the rest of the rather grandiose church, opened, and in entered the five they were waiting for- the newbies.
The Asian woman stood up and headed in their direction to greet them. The pale young man happily pursued, feeling a sense of juvenile glee from the prospect of meeting his new teammates. The other three casually joined them.
The woman did a once-over of them, checking to make sure they were the right people.
"Glad you could make it," she said, an air of unfaltering confidence about her, "I'm Suki, you're new team leader. C'mon, let's go get acquainted with everyone."
The young man beside him couldn't really contain himself any longer, "I'm Cole! It's great to meet you!"
"You lost, Dio. You lost for one simple reason - you were using charcoal." - Hank Hill