Chloe York's Story

On the bright side, Daniel wasn't laying in the middle of a road where he could get run over. On the bad side, he wasn't where he remembered passing out. The second his eyes snapped open, the boy was confident that he had been killed and made his way down to hell. Where else would he be? Prison cells didn't look like blank silver boxes... unless he was in some sort of weird solitary confinement room. But even if that were the case, why?
When his sight finally came in to focus, Daniel felt an unusual sense of panic. He literally had no idea where he was or how he got there. He was supposed to be outside of the police station right on the road. Looking down at his wrists, Daniel realized his handcuffs were gone. If someone was trying to free him, they were doing on awful job.

Pushing himself to his feet, Daniel staggered toward what he assumed must have been the door. Making a run for it seemed like a good idea in his head, but the lack of a handle was enough to mess with the plan. Scowling, Daniel pounded his fist against the metal. "Hey!" He shouted, scowling at the door. "How about someone tells me where I am, huh? Is this some sort of jail or something?" He waited in silence for a reply, but no answer was given to him. Snorting, Daniel rolled his eyes and turned around. Of course no one was going to tell him anything. What did he expect?

All would have been well if the lights hadn't gone out and an explanation hadn't been given to him. After he knew what was happening, Daniel realized he hadn't wanted to know. What the hell kind of place was this? It all seemed like a game to him. A horrifying but definitely tempting game. A maze, was that what it was? He only had to find his way out and he'd be freed, simple as that. It would have been a lie to say that Daniel wasn't grinning when the door in front of him opened.
However, he must have skipped over the part where the screen explained that there would be others, because he was taken aback when a girl rushed passed him. There were people with him? Daniel frowned at the realization. Winning would be a whole lot harder if he actually had to compete, and apparently he couldn't kill.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Daniel stepped out of the room and examined the hallway. There were other rooms just like his, each holding someone completely different than the next. There were two blondes, one brunette, two men and an old guy. One room, Daniel noticed, was empty when he passed by it. The one who ran. He thought, narrowing his eyes. There was only one door opening further down the hall, so the girl must have gone in to there, but Daniel figured he could talk to her later.
At the moment, he felt like yelling.
"Somebody has to know what the fuck is going on!" He shouted, eyeing the walls for cameras or hidden microphones. Someone had to be behind it all, and to be honest Daniel was scared of not finding out who it was. Was it the police? The government?
For the first time in a rather long time, Daniel was terrified.

Parcher was surprised to see the young man passing by before already in the recreation room. He gave a nervous grin in his general direction before residing in the corner where a pack of playing cards lay. As he sat there fanning his sweaty palms with the flickering of the cards, the first girl came rushing, desperately pleading for ... drugs? Yeah, guess that makes sense.

Before he had the chance to respond, the girl was curled up on the couch crying about how they're all going to die, until someone else came in and started to soothe her. Then, the young man started snapping at them about getting their act together. And then another girl came out and agreed with him. Things are happening so quickly; a few minutes in and everyone's already desperate to get out. But then, most people seems to settle down after they've been somewhere for a while for some reason. Parcher wasn't like that. He's the type to be all curious and accepting about somewhere new at first until the place starts growing on his nerves. But this isn't some vacation spot.

Who cares?

Everyone cares, buddy, everyone cares. But this time, the concept of caring talks up a whole different context. It's not good to care. Caring holds you back. Parcher wanted to make these people stop caring.

He proceeded to split the cards in half, saving the reverse end for later on. His supplies seem to have vanished at the very least. He cringed painfully at the thought, but a resourceful artist can make use of anything.

Eric's eyes groggily opened, and the room spun before finally settling after a few seconds. He was sitting. back against the wall in a completely empty silver room. The only thing that even remotely stood out was the faint outline of the door. He stood; and noticed the olive drab clothing he was now wearing. It was similar to something that he would usually wear, although he noted that these clothes didn't belong to him. How'd he end up in these anyway? He tucked his shirt in, and checked the pockets; both empty. Approaching the door, he noticed no way of opening it. Unsure about what to do, he gave it a few hard knocks.

Suddenly, the room was filled with bright light, which caused him to take a few steps backwards. He leaned against the wall as he struggled to read some words that had appeared on a screen. A game? What kind of game was this? Although, he couldn't dispute the bit about murdering without thinking anyone knew. Was this some sort of police investigation. No, the police wouldn't use such odd tactics.

Eric watched as the door opened, but instead of leaving the room, he sunk back down to a sitting position. The adrenaline rush had left him rather out of breath, and he simply felt like he needed to take a few minutes to catch it. He worried about the fact that he didn't have a mask with him; even if the room did appear spotless.

When he stepped outside, he noticed that there were other people stuck in here as well. Following the directions to the bathroom, he ignored the small gathering of people he walked past. He dug through the various cupboards of the bathroom; finding nothing, really. However, eventually he did find a small box with some surgical masks in it. Breathing a sigh of relief, he donned one. Even if the place was clean and dust free, there were other people; meaning they would create plenty of things he couldn't be breathing in. He was a dying man; he had to play it safe.

His plan to quietly enter the rec room and observe the people in there from the back caught a snag when a few harsh coughs escaped him upon his entrance. After a dozen or so, he had his hands on his knees, and let out a final, scratching cough as he stood up straight.

Parcher often felt more at ease in a natural environment, but this commotion isn't the idle chatter of random pedestrians. He set down the card he was trying to fray at a corner to set an opening to split to look up as the first girl with the agitated mannerisms dashed around talking about life and games. That's not all there is to it, okay? he thought automatically. He frowned a little as she dropped half the cards after a comment about paper houses before proceeding to look through the kitchen supplies.

Well, this is depressing.
No, we're the ones getting depressed.

He suddenly stood up to snap out of yet another thought loop, only to collapse back down in laughter, until his eyes snapped back up to make sure he hasn't attracted any attention. Well, attention is what he seeks, but he still fears it. His head and his heart could never quite agree with each other. but without a heart there's no point in having a head. Or something. Because both the desire for and fear of attention originate from the heart.

SHUT UP ALREADY

Parcher stood up successfully this time and headed to the cupboards, flashing a nervous grin at another man coughing at the entrance. The spazzy girl was back on the couch with the other who was trying comfort her earlier, so he approached the bench and collected a teabag and the milk from the fridge. None of them seem to be in the mood for a drink anyways. Tearing up the teabag, he faced the wall, turning back once to grin nervously towards the general direction of everyone else. He needed to say something. But what? His mind was blank.

What do you think you're in for?
Do you think you deserve to be here?
Don't you think "justice" is a flawed concept?
... Don't you think this kidnapper guy is a self-righteous moron?
Or is this just a game?
If it's just a game, maybe it could be fun ...
y'know ...

It's not like Parcher actually had the guts to ask any of those questions. Even now that his vandalism had gained state-wide recognition, he still longs to chat about the big questions to someone who's interested. Apparently the closest he's ever got was imposing his ideas on public property and watch the media's reaction.

I wish I was out of here so I can see more of those reactions. his thoughts snarked halfheartedly and with no success at provoking humour.

He gazed up at the ceiling. "I'm Parcher ... Jay Parcher." he mumbled absentmindedly as a girl's voice; Chloe, she said; next to him inquired about names. Contrary to all appearances, he really hopes people heard that. But he's not gonna repeat himself if they didn't. It's just his name. It's not worth the effort of being repeated.

Eric vaguely heard people mentioning names; he had spaced out a little bit in the few seconds after his coughing fit. He stood in the back of the room, listening. Chloe, Julie, Parker...they came out one by one. Finally, he let out a quiet "Eric."

"Hey mister. What's the mask for? Are you a germaphobe?" The callousness of the statement is what bothered Eric; even though he was very much the same. Stares he was used to, he even eventually got questions from people, but he always assumed they probably thought he was just scared of germs.

"No. No I am not." The comment came out with twice the callousness that the original statement had. "I happen to have a terminal case of cystic fibrosis, so I cannot *cough* breath easily." He gave her a dirty glare, "And it wouldn't hurt you to develop any sense of tact."

"Tact is overrated." Parcher rebutted automatically at Eric's remark. "Maybe. Probably. I think. I mean sorry about your condition and stuff ... or not ... sorry hehehehe ... idunno ......" He shrank back and trailed off nervously in a string of doubts.

Shut up; they'll figure out who you are.
But that's what you've always wanted! You're just too chicken to come out and tell everyone!
True ...

His eyes darted back up as Sasha; ... sounds like a guy's name; rushed out towards the bathroom without a warning. A chill shot up his spine as the shattering of a mirror rang from the bathroom. Julie was trying desperately to get in, and Parcher hardly had the chance to respond as she approached the drawers near him in search of a fork, scattering the rest of the cutlery in the process. She sure likes to scatter things, his thoughts remarked in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

Until she started yelling. Daniel's probably right, someone might wanna check on them, but visiting two young women in a bathroom was probably too awkward to act on. Pretend not to hear him; you're always good at that.

THE OVERSEER


In a sound proofed room not far away from the group, The Overseer smiled watching the many screens. This is an interesting group. He pushed his roller chair with his feet, stopping across the room at a desk that looked like something from a sound booth. There was music was playing in the background as he worked. A screen with mug shots of all of the people popped up. It looked like a betting bracket.

Shasha: 85 % chance of escape.

Juls: 79.3% chance of escape.

Chloe York : 65% chance of escape

Eric Batten : 35 % chance of escape

Daniel Surman : 40% chance of escape

Clarissa Merryweather: 55 % chance of escape

Kristoff McKinnon : 50%

Jay Parcher : 95% chance of escape.

All Chances are 0.01% < 99.99%. Never 100% and never 0% as long as you are alive or have escaped.

He nodded as he checked over the odds that were based on crimes, circumstances and bets taken already.
He hit a button. This made a projector lower from the ceiling in the recreation room, it turned on and displayed the odds of each person. He spoke into a microphone. His voice was being fed through several voice changers so that his voice went from deep, high, to a female's and a male's voice, in a wave type more or less. Subtitles appeared under the odds as well, just incase.
“ Hello, Glad to see you are all up and awake. As things stand theses are the chances of escape, and are no means definitive. In fact, most people who escape have done so with extremely low odds." He said with a smile.
"There is a chance that all of you will make it out of this, I promise you that, However know that the more of you there are, the more chances there is, or you will die during this ...." Game? Test? He couldn't think of a good word for this important event. " Event." He said finally settling in on a word. "But that will all come later, please enjoy yourselves for the moment and take your time getting to know one another." He tapped on a few keys. " In a moment there will be some items delivered to each one of your rooms. Share them if you wish or don't, the choice is yours. Remember, the ride never ends." He turned off the mic. He left the projector on so they could see the odds, most didn't change, but some went up or down a point. This was from the bets from people watching.The people watching were making bets on who they wanted to live, and per every ten thousand dollar's paid, the choices went up by one point.

Meanwhile, in each of the rooms, part of the wall slid up exposing the items for each person. The rooms would close after each person walked in. There was now a button beside the doors to open them from the inside. All of the

In Shasha's room there is a Cello that was not anything really fancy, but it was still there.With a note "Something to take your mind off things. The room is sound proof."

In Julie's Room there was a large bowl of Mi Goreng noodles, and a photo of her family waiting for her as well as a very small dose of heroin, not enough to get her blitzed but enough to stop the cravings and let her think level headed for a while. Her note read "Something to take the edge off."

Chloe's room contained something small, a lock picking set designed for the games that couldn't be used on the rooms of other players and a monopoly "get out of jail free card" on the back of the card it explained that there was one card in every challenge and if you used the card you got to advance without having to do anything. "Just an advantage."

Eric's room held a small, slender blade that would fit easily between someone's ribs and could be hidden extremely easily on his person. Odds are, no one would notice it. Next to it was some medical mask to help him breath nothing fancy. And last was a picture of his wife. " Some things to remind you of home"

Daniel's room had a zippo lighter waiting for him, it was full and had a decent flint spark. "For those cold nights alone."

Clarisasa 's room had a flashlight sitting atom a vest of some sort, The vest was black and would fit under her clothing seamlessly. No one would be able to spot the vest unless she did something silly. The vest would only fit someone close to her size. "A little protection"

Kristoff's room had a Schimmel (grand piano). Sitting on the seat was a 5th of good whisky. "Play on sir, play on" on the back of the card was a number 53294. Tapped under the piano was a knife proof vest much like Clarisasa's the same rules applied to it as well.

Jay's room held a large sketchbook , a small sketchbook, some acrylic paint, some charcoal of different hardness's and some spray paint: 4 cans, red, blue, yellow and black. "Enjoy"

The Overseer smiled a bit, leaning back in his chair that squeaked a little. He poured himself a small glass of scotch "Let the game begin." he held the glass up to the screen. "Cheers."

Things were calming down a bit, though one look told Daniel that Julie was still a little upset. The junkie tried to occupy herself with cards, failed, and curled into a corner. At the moment she kind of reminded Daniel of one of the animals one would see at a pound. Quivering in her little corner, Julie looked almost afraid.
Of course, Daniel didn't doubt that she would punch him if he pointed that out. Who knew what her mental state was? She could be just as crazy as him, for all he knew.
At least I can think straight. Daniel thought, his eyes drifting to where Parcher was. The old guy was definitely missing a few bolts in his head. ...He probably didn't even know where he was, poor guy.

When he felt like someone's eyes were on him, Daniel looked over at saw Julie. Her resentment towards him was obvious, and Daniel was just about to tell her that the feeling was mutual. He wasn't overly fond of the junkie, either. But before he could get a word out, Julie piped up and spat out a question.
"What have you guys done wrong?" She asked, actually sounding interested.
"You're seriously asking that?" Daniel said, a smirk appearing on his face. He may had felt guilt over his crime at one point, but the boy didn't mind talking about it. Hell, he had gloated about it right in front of the police officer who had been interrogating him. "All right, I guess I'll start off then." He started, clapping his hands together. "Three houses in my neighborhood no longer exist, thanks to me. They went up in flames and not a single... thing, was able to be recovered. Cool, huh?" Daniel explained, his eyes lighting up at just the memory. He had wanted to say that not a single person made out, at least to his knowledge, but he didn't think the group would take kindly to hearing that Daniel had shoved knives through peoples chests.
"Who's next-"

The screen shifted Daniel's attention away from his question. A voice sounded from somewhere, the exact location not really mattering as the boy had his mind focused on something else.
Daniel Surman : 40% chance of escape Showed up on the screen, right under Eric. Daniel frowned. Only forty? That wasn't even half! He caught sight of Parcher's name and... ninety five percent. Wow. The guy looked like he could hardly run, let alone participate in a stupid bunch of 'events'.

Eric scoffed at Parcher's comment. "You could use some, as well." He kept standing in the back of the room, and the two girls that had left came back in, looking a little shaken. One of them piped up, asking what they had done wrong. Wrong? Wrong? No, Eric thought, I've done nothing wrong. Survival of the fittest, after all. Although, he did not deny that he had committed crimes. But no, he was not like the people here, he considered himself to be of a higher caliber. He took and killed to support him and his wife. He was nothing like the barbaric pyromaniac, or the unstable addict.

All of a sudden, the screen came down and the talking stopped. 35%? He felt a little insulted, but realized that whatever 'games' they'd be playing might be made more difficult due to his condition.

=========================================================================================================

Later on, in his room, Eric found the gifts that had been left for him. He shoved the additional mask in his back pocket, and the picture up front. He smirked when he picked up the knife, and took that as well. He hadn't decided whether or not to share that he had it; on one hand, it might allow him to intimidate the others, if he needed to. Then again, the element of surprise would be nice...

Parcher smiled as the yelling stopped and Julie entered back into the room. He didn't know why he cared. But it's not something bad or anything. Or something good. Anyway, shut up, she just asked a question. What have you guys done wrong?

Good, he was hoping someone would ask that. Though the whole concept of wrongness needs to be discussed, well, not need, but you get the picture. Like for example, how does being a drug addict mean you deserve to be locked up in some steely underground facility and play games to get out? It didn't make sense. But maybe sense as we know it is completely wrong.

Parcher was somewhat surprised as another screen appeared, this time with a list of the group and their likelihood of escape. He recognised most of the names, though he was temporarily thrown off by the absence of the last name for Sasha and shorthand for Julie. Well, at least he thought Juls was Julie.

Then someone started speaking. The change of voice made him chuckle a little at the start. This thing is suspiciously intricately planned. It's like we're on a game show or something, Parcher thought jokingly.

Though they did mention death. Usually when someone mentions you're gonna die, you wouldn't bat an eye because you wouldn't talk it seriously. But when you suddenly woke up in an underground facility without knowing it beforehand, the possibility of anything being possible just seems so much clearer.

He did have the highest odds of escape though, so far. How much the odds; or really anything that comes out of this guy's virtual instruments of communication; could be trusted was doubtful. What were the odds even based on? Does every little movement they make affect the odds somehow? Otherwise why would they be changing? He did feel a twinge of pride about being the most likely to escape, though. For some reason. He always seemed to feel good about being at the most advantage against everyone else, even if he did nothing of merit to warrant such an advantage. His mind said it didn't make sense, but that never stopped the heart. Maybe this time it was for the better.

As people started leaving for their rooms, presumably to find whatever Mystery Kidnapper Guy left them for whatever reason, Parcher decided to stay for a while. He couldn't remember which one was his room anyway. But now that he thinks about it, if he had tons of money and time on his hands, building a secret underground facility and kidnapping random wrongdoers to toy with was exactly what he'd do if only it isn't being done already.

He chuckled at the thought, and made his way to the cards with which Julie was trying to build a house earlier. He shuffled them aimlessly. He should really show her some real card-housebuilding sometime.