View Full Version : [M] 'Hunted'; the interrogation / IC
The walls were smeared haphazardly with achromatic paint, flayed with a brush that knew no direction or restraint. It was bright - painfully so - but where attention to detail had been abandoned, one could see the black of the stone beneath, hidden between the strokes of alabaster cream. No spark of colour, no flash of hue. Monotony, by its very nature, cloaked every breath of the room.
Did you care? No. Not then, not yet.
Awareness crept up slowly, fingers and toes twitching feebly as feeling returned.
The only furniture was the chair you found yourself perched upon, a beautiful amalgamation of deep mahogany and indigo velvet. The back arched up to your shoulders and twisted in ways that tricked the mind, but at least it provided support for your body, slumped as it was. No beams were present to rest your arms upon, and so you contended with them falling limply at your sides. It creaked as you tried to get up but, with the curse of weakness, you remained trapped within its grasp.
Why didn’t you care? Not yet - not quite - but why?
Your mind thrashed in a bout of panic, mentally tearing at its emotional confinement, yet settled almost instantly.
Once again, you were calm.
You did not care.
Your eyes fluttered shut for the whisper of a second, and they (http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/047/9/e/The_Second_Renaissance_IV_by_TheVenomousSwan.jpg) were there, in pair.
Monstrous in height, but not threatening to your current mind.
Their words were like drops of acid, fluent in pace yet deadly in tone; their voices carried the shadow of a harmony that rented upon your soul.
“Do not try to move,” they told you in a unison imperfect, “You can’t.”
The sound of their squawking echoed around the room, buzzing in your ears even as it faded. With their faces masked by metal, you could detect neither mirth nor malice, the expressions that might have given them away stolen from your sight.
“Muscle control will return to you eventually, depending on your compliance. You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal.”
You blinked again and suddenly they were standing over you.
“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”
You started to care, just a little, as their proximity became intimidating.
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”
For the first time, you realised you could speak, although the will to move still managed to evade you.
Sickly
01-31-2012, 01:25 PM
Paralyzed, screams abound.
Bright, binding light.
Release and capture.
She sat there, unflinching, static dread filling in her gut. Every lie she told herself in her own mind was now reversed and truth lay bare to her. She did not look at it. The creature took away her defenses, her only escape from a reality that did not favor her. It called for her name. A name? A spark of pride, If she was to lay herself bare before these stranger's then she would cling to every part of her that held strength.
Her pride was strong.
"A name is not given, it is earned. I do not deny you the truth, I simply regulate its strength. I am Dame, a name given to me by queen and country. The rest will be earned in due time." She snarled. Inappropriate, yes, but now was not the time for pleasantries
She could feel their intent and it was true. They did not lie. She wondered if this was enough, she did not dare to even think her name to herself in case they could force a betrayal of the will. An unearthly presence made the Dame worry for her very soul.
"That is my title, what is yours?"
The blinding light as her eyelids flickered open would have caused her pain - if things were under normal circumstances. There was a dull ache in the back of her head, but she ignored it. She, too, ignored the momentary feeling of vertigo, though she hadn't bothered to stand up. Her mouth felt dry, and her body numb. Or was it numb? She could not tell, save for the fact she could move her fingers and toes, feebly at best. Though move as they might, it brought her little comfort, and little despair.
Green eyes met the metal covered faces of two impossibly tall humans. Were they humans? They certainly spoke English, but that didn't signify their species. All that was signified was that they were a pair, standing tall before her, explaining things, gazing down at her behind their... masks? She still felt groggy. They explained the paralysis and many other things, save for the fact that she was here.
They asked for a name. A name? She struggled to comprehend the mention of a name, why it would be so relevant to their purpose. A name was supposed to signify importance in everyone's daily life. A name to be called your own. A name that you were addressed by. Names lead to nicknames; misspellings of your name; mockery; jokes; bored expressions when they heard something so boring as her name. She remembered it. Remembered why she was named it, though disagreed with its importance. It wasn't important. Her name was important. She wasn't important.
But these two creatures inquired her name. Were they interested? Were they deeming her important enough to ask her name? Quietly, she spoke, directly looking up at them. "A name is important to its self, and to the person who was given the name at birth. I am unimportant; my name is unimportant. You said I can't lie, so am I lying now?"
She didn't fear the repercussions. A slight uneasy feeling crept up in her stomach, though it easily subsided, faster than it appeared.
She was. She is. She thinks. She remembers being Jane. Jane; what kind of a name is Jane?
He took a deep breath, adjusting to the sudden light, or more to say the sudden realization and awareness of who he was and where he was; It was like recalling of yourself after a long time you were prated of who you were and what you were, either by will or by force, it still felt like being reborn and at the same time the page wasn't blank enough to start anew.
And as much as exciting as it felt, and as much as his mind screamed for him to awake and move, nothing stirred his emotions or caused him to feel any 'need' of any kind.
Nonchalance... apathy...
These expressions of careless were not new and definitely not foreign to him, and they turned to be reflected, almost naturally, upon the sad, yet wise beyond years eyes of Nathaniel as he gazed up at his warders. His blue orbs were wide and focused, trying hard not to miss a single glimpse of any change in their movements, even somewhat fighting against the urge to blink.
His lips hummed softly, but the noise he uttered was so weak it could have otherwise been unheard if it weren't for the fact that nothing aside of him made any sound. He looked somewhat confused, maybe surprised, he sure was a difficult person to read, but whatever expression that his face must have reflected, it still looked like, or more to say 'felt' like, that he was rather unbothered by the fact that his limbs were frozen, and that no will stirred any emotions to fight against this cessation.
It wasn't the first time he found himself in this position, bound within an isolated void, chained to a chair, (certainly of lesser quality, but a chair nonetheless) as some figures loomed above his head, gazing at him as if he was some kind of a creature that belonged within a cage in some tropical zoo.
Then again... he enjoyed being a beast so much....
"My name?", he chuckled.
It was rather absurd question. Whoever they were that got a hold of him, they should have already know much of him by now; his identity and any other relevant information that they may wanted to have on him....
But this game amused him and he decided to... play along...
Besides, he just didn't care anyway...
"Nathaniel Welsh", he said slowly, feeling like he shouldn't have even bothered to speak. He just really didn't care at all.
But at the same time, his eyes narrowed again.
Maybe some instincts were just too hard to kill after all...
Snotgirl
01-31-2012, 10:15 PM
Gregory opened his eyes and waited for his eyes to adjust.
“Where’s my music?” He murmured. “Is it time for school already, mom?” He usually left either his computer or his stereo on, playing any music. He listened to just about anything; rap, rock, and even country.
He was still groggy so he blinked to clear his eyes. What he saw almost shocked him. Two things stood there, hiding behind metal masks.
“Do not try to move,” they told you in a unison imperfect, “You can’t.”
Greg tried anyway. It was true, no matter how hard he tried to move he couldn’t. It felt as though he were encased in steel.
“Oh man.” He muttered to himself. He was immobilized in a chair and yet, he wasn’t panicking. Why…?
“Muscle control will return to you eventually, depending on your compliance. You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal.”
“Oh that’s why. Of course. The extra dose of whatever chemical you injected me with right now must come in the ‘Kidnapping Kit.’ What’s going on? Is Costco selling chemicals by the crate load now?” Greg said passively.
Greg knew for a fact that if it wasn’t for muscle whatever he would be panicking. A grin slowly spread across Greg’s face.
“Holy crap. Does this drug make me sound cool? Maybe-”
“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”
“So I can’t lie huh? MY MOTHER IS A WHORE!” Greg screamed, “Whoa, I guess this isn’t a lie then-”
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”
“Who said I’m resisting? My name is Gregory Springer.”
Gregory tried to remember what brought him to this place. Being a wiseass would only protect him for so long. He was walking home from school then….what?
He couldn’t remember.
His kidnappers would know. Maybe they would tell him why he’s there.
Kiall
01-31-2012, 10:32 PM
The little girl groaned waking up. She felt a sense of alarm which quickly fell away..leaving only apathy and a curiosity that would have quickly turned to fear if she could feel it. She struggled trying to move her arms or legs and succeeding in neither
I can’t move! She cried out mentally
“There there I know,” replied a male voice inside her, “just stay calm and let’s try to figure this out, okay Suz?”
“Where are we?” said a feminine voice also inside the little girl’s mind.
“Not sure Bethany…These walls sure are creepy though,” said the male voice in response to the one called Bethany.
“Black stone…hidden between strokes of alabaster cream, no sparks of colour, no flash of hue! Monotony cloaks the very breath of the room, Grant!”
“Stop saying weird stuff Beth,” the voice called Grant retorted, “it’s creepy and it’s scaring Suzy!"
“Tis not weird!” Bethany retorted huffing, “it’s poetic and it helps me think!”
The little girl Suzy looked around, seemingly still in a trance as her mind with its strange passengers slowly processed her surroundings. She watched as two creatures appeared, bearing the face of birds looking very much like something out of a nightmare. Any other situation she would have screamed and cried and tried to run away but there was nothing…no fear, no panic. She simply listened to the creatures.
“Oh god oh god oh god!” Cried Grant his own emotions unaffected by whatever had affected Suzy. “Those eyes! Dead soulless eyes! They’re going to kill us! Devour our flesh with their freakish beaks!"
“Shut it Grant!” Bethany cried, “cooperate with them for now honey, tell them your name, no harm in giving them that right?” Her voice turning calm and motherly, a voice of comfort for the very confused little girl.
“S-Susan…Susan Peterson,” the girl said softly looking up at the two creatures, “but everyone just calls me Suzy.”
Where am I. Not a question. It didn't seem to matter, just a thought brushing by her consciousness, perhaps spawned by the room itself. Whether her eyes were open or not, she couldn't quite have said. Unfamiliarity tainted the very air, the feeling of the chair beneath her. No... no, she could see. Barely. The woman wished she could pull down the glasses probably perched on top of her head, but when she tried, her fingers twitched like a dying spider's legs. Nothing less. Nothing more.
Still, though the haze of aging, white and black asserted themselves, and she fancied herself in a chiaroscuro world, perhaps a painting. It would not be a terrible way to spend the rest of her life, if she must spend it in delusion. A blurry, artistic world, but this didn't feel like a dream. Oh well. She'd heard insanity didn't.
Insanity? Like a bolt of clarity pierced it, Corinne's heart and thoughts raced for a moment of pure animal fear, so dense she could almost smell it,. I don't want to be insane! I don't want to spend the rest of my life in delusion! My family... But if I am in my mind, what can I do about it?
The lull returned, steady pumping of blood the only soundtrack in the room and two were there, from nowhere. She didn't remember blinking - you never do - but that could be the only explanation. Humans cannot so come and go, though they seemed more like birds, but not magical. Such thins did not exist. Even so, no sense of organicness came to her from the two, no feeling that she sat with real beings. Ah well. Perhaps she was drugged, which might account for the slowness of her mind.
"Do not try to move. You can't." A new soundtrack cut in, this one much more discordant than her own pulse, but it did answer one question. Drugged. Certainly. A contrarily apathetic relief stole over the woman. Her mind retained function.
"Muscle control will return to you eventually, depending on your compliance. You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal.” As if she'd only been waiting for their say-so, curiosity crept into the verges of her consciousness. No anger, no fear, certainly, but who were they? A question mark now. Progress.
She resolved to keep better track of her eyelids when the pair towered over her, perfectly out of sync. Much taller than she'd thought. The room might skew depth perception. Still a bit blurry, but clearer. Like witch doctors.
“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.” An interesting revelation. She wondered, could that quite be accurate? She knew, now, at least, that she could not lie. It did not occur to her to distrust those words. If she could not lie, why would they have reason to do so?
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”
Corinne. It came instantly, easily. Corinne, her. The second part took a few seconds more as she dredged about in her brain, casting a wandering hand to seek that elusive information. Anderson. "Corinne... Anderson. Corinne Sylvia Anderson."
She had not been sure she wanted to answer. The pair of them, looming over her, casting cold shadows across her skin, did not inspire much confidence, but resistance, as they said, would be ineffective. The part of her that would scream but could not whispered, ever so passively, words of self-preservation. To respond, to obey perfectly. Save yourself.
By nature, Corinne was not a rude person. "And may I ask your names?" She simply couldn't help herself.
Mysteria
02-01-2012, 12:32 AM
The bronze skinned brunette was aware that she was alive. Other than the fact that she was staring at her feet because she had not the capability or desire to move, she was aware of little else. She couldn't tell where her feet were, only that they were on a floor beneath her. Or was it a floor?
“Do not try to move,” they told you in a unison imperfect, “You can’t.”
Her long hair fell into her face, her head bobbing and rolling ever so slightly as she made an attempt to look in the direction of the voice she'd just heard. Much to her dismay she could only sit like a rag doll, that is, if she were even actually sitting. She couldn't rationalize anything, reality, fantasy, life, or death. At this point nothing seemed real to her, not even the sensation of blood moving through her fingertips, coursing lightly allowing her to believe that she was still alive.
“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”
She heard the voices, could make out the words that they were saying but something was wrong. She felt as though she were stuck in the mind of a character from on the Criminal Minds T.V. Series. She couldn't focus enough to determine what the words they had spoken even meant. Maybe she was dead after all. Maybe someone had given her some of that LSD stuff that her Uncle Bob had told her about having taken back in the sixties. Maybe that was it, why she couldn't focus, why she couldn't....she was what he'd described as Fuck what had he called it....tripping?
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”
Her chest tightened as she tried to understand the words that they were saying but she couldn't get them to register. They all sounded to her like they were being spoken in slow motion. Only certain syllables and words were discernible to her you, name, cli, strug, drug.
The combination of mixed vowels and letters sounded like a foreign language to her and she forced herself to try to focus as she expelled air from her lungs "I.." She breathed in deeply then trying to form another word and pull her head up so that she could see the voices speaking to her but it fell forward aonce more, she almost biting her own tongue in the process "I...Bre eze" the second word being almost whispered in two parts her from what felt to her to be a dry and pasty mouth still trying to finish the last word "Ryd..."
Her head lulled forward again, Breeze Rydell feeling as though she may vomit at any moment.
SmileyCassandra
02-01-2012, 04:28 AM
Melena blinked her eyes open slowly, and they slowly glanced around the room. Where am I? she thought, as she looked around the bare white place. Her eyes fell on two people, more like creatures then anything. The metal on their face; made her tilt her head. Who are they? she asked herself, and glanced around the room again.
“Do not try to move,” they told you in a unison imperfect, “You can’t.”
Melena blinked to those words, and tried to move. They were right; she couldn't bring her body to move like it used to. She was confused, and unsure of what was going on. Why am I not angry? Why cant I move? Why am I not panicking? she asked, all of the questions going unanswered.
“You do not realize it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.” they stated, and Melena raised a brow. I cannot lie? she asked herself, and tried to move again. She soon gave up; after realizing moving wasn't an option.
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.” they said, and Melena grimaced. Why my name is important I don't know, but I simply don't care to say the least.
"Melena, Melena Jones"
SandQueen
02-02-2012, 12:28 AM
Jazmine blinked. She didn't try to struggle. It wasn't the first time she'd lacked muscle control and been told specifically to not try to move right away. The same procedure had happened after she'd given birth. Only then the intent was to not rupture a fresh C-section. This situation was clearly much more sinister. She swallowed and replied "Dr. Jazmine Hiyam Farahani. Arabic. Translates to 'the Hopeful vine with beautiful foliage that climbs the House of Farahani'. Doctor of Psychology."
That seemed the most acutely correct response to the question of her name. Name, first middle and last, as well as the title that society and education had assigned her as well as the origin and culture of said name as well as the meaning. Her response had been similar to when she delivered although she could recall swearing more. These individuals didn't seem as lenient towards vulgarity and her daughters were not being withheld from her so displaying a degree of calm seemed appropriate. She was uncomfortable but no moreso than she had been at other times. She'd been grilled by both the IRS, BATFE, and even a pair of suits that actually thought they could threaten her with deportation. All of those were uncomfortable by in no way frightening. Hopefully this would be the same.
Slumped over upon a chair.
In a cow suit.
And they wanted to know his name.
"Why should I..." Charlie started to slur out, his lips caked with drool that had obviously dried there a while ago. He felt... like he was going to throw up, the nausea of the drugs, the room, the voices and presences of these... things...
But he couldn't. His stomach was locked, like his body hung; dead weight. Unable to produce anything, even emotion, much less a motion, much less something so riotous and raucously spasmodic as vomit.
What chunks might do for these two, anyone knew.
What one name would do... did they want two?
His initial utterance burbled upon his lips like a bubbled expulsion from the bowels of a bog, erupting from a mind completely embanked in the fog of...
...whatever.
It was hardly categorical resistance, nor could Charlie himself, fully lucid, ever classify it as such, had he the mental faculties to even do so.
It flopped instead like a limp frog upon a soft, muddy bank--nothing greater than the potential expulsion of an idle mind, curious with boredom.
"Charlie," he burped as though he was going to blow chunks from puffy cheeks. "Detweiler," croaked, true to form, like a toad.
In a cow suit.
Wattz
02-02-2012, 08:25 AM
He awoke as if from sleep to bright and unforgiving walls. His focus was eerily clear, though his eyelids drooped limply, the two stark figures immediately emerging into view. They spoke, and as they did, the man’s mouth parted as if to speak, though he truly knew not what to say.
What should he call this? Dream seemed too simple, too obvious. Hallucination, perhaps? Heaven forbid he should deem it reality. But no, no, yes, dream was the most plausible escape. He would awaken from this one, perhaps feeling the same languid apathy, perhaps even thinking these masked apparitions were real in lingering minutes, but it would fade behind memories of bottled perfume as all dreams did.
The man’s head hung back to expose a fleshy throat, muscles struggling against the thick atmosphere. Only his heavy breathing could be heard in the chamber, until at last he found an answer he could deem passable.
“Adam Baker.” His name weighed heavy on his tongue, but also curled his lips into a smile.
Justin was sitting on a chair. He didn't know how he got there but he didn't care either, probably should but he didn't feel like it. Wasn't the first time it had happened. Justin's fingers twitched irritably.
Two masked fellows in suits approached, quicker than Justin liked but he wasn't worried.
"You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal."
"You do not realise it now but you cannot lie."
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”
"Ahhh," replied Justin testing out his tongue, "Justin Crane, I'd shake your hand masked men but I still lack the strength to do so.
"I'm quite happy you've removed anger and panic from my emotions, I love my control. And I can't lie? I'm glad the temptation is gone."
Mr.Cynic
02-02-2012, 07:20 PM
Nirvana. A grand ectsay as paralyization wrecked his body. The swirlings of vertigo and the chiming of winds. Colors that passed each nerve ending. A sense of no control, as if slightly drowning in a big giant bathtub. The drug seemed to take over most functions and yet it revealed a new world, even this one revealed a real world. All drugs and all things reveal a new kind of existence and existence that was interupted by bright lights and a swirling environment. There was stiffness and no sense of panic. He felt completely at peace, which could be said about his memory.
And the noise in the room. A stiffling humming that broke away and burrowed into his head, he felt the need to lose sanity and yet for some reason he felt complacent through this great and grand nirvana. This paradise of complacentcy. The paradise of being unable to move. They asked a question and he realized his own life suddenly. He could suddenly realize the ability of functioning. It felt almost as if he were finally awakening or if he was being reborn again. This most definetely must be how newborn babies felt, except for the whole not being able to move thing. That could be considered a little more fucked up on that end.
“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”
You started to care, just a little, as their proximity became intimidating.
“First of all, we need you to tell us your name. Some of our clients struggle mentally from the drugging, but this will not yet be held against you. Resistance will get you nowhere.”
Ah yeah. Now these were coming back. The world seemed far more and more clear. Far less colorful and far less drowning. The nirvan was not fading, but the high was beginning to dissipate. Trying to test it out, he could feel the connections of mind and mouth coming together.
"Could you make this less freaky?" Jone asked, "I'm Jone Pryce, by the way. But you really go all out Saw style don't you man. Maybe we could add some color ya know to brighten the place up. I'm thinking maybe a yellow or a cream color, make it a little more welcoming and inviting."
That was a mouthful and yet it seemed to clearly coming out of him. So it seemed he had the function of speak and say. Well that's cool. But the moving part, not really. After a while he was sure his ass going to go numb, but then he wouldn't be able to feel it. Since his ability to resist was, well encouraged to take a nap.
"And do you...got like smokes man?" Jone asked, "Been kind of out of it. But now it's time to relax, ya know?"
Housemaster
02-04-2012, 07:22 AM
It all seemed too strange, yet 'strange' was something he was fairly used to. Izzy limped a rather pathetic smile as his eyes glanced and glared at the dull bright walls. The sight made him giggle... well... giggle, then half-choke on his saliva as the spitter ran down his open mouth.
"Whaaaaa... the fuckin' hell?" he laughed again, lazy though it be.
His eyes were dead tired and nearly bloodshot, almost a wonder that they are still working at all to be honest. You see, Izzy here, a nice responsible young chap, was doing something we folks call "doing hard drugs". I would tell you what they were, but even Izzy himself is fairly uncertain on what he took and the dosage required to seemingly transport him into a bright empty room. It took him a long while for his eyes to adjust fully to the presence of the two large figures. Their appearance immediately made Izzy snap...
"Oh shit.." he laughed, "I musta bought a coupla tickets to the circus..." His eyes shifted into a dreamy state, "Mummy loves the circus... pfff..pfaa ha ha ha!"
His amusement by their appearance did not seem to stifle their composure, but regardless of the high-as-shit rocker they started their questions.
“Do not try to move,” they told you in a unison imperfect, “You can’t.”
"Holy Jesus... you talk!" Izzy gleed as he waited for more of what they had to say, thinking it was a really realistic hallucination.
“Muscle control will return to you eventually, depending on your compliance. You will notice you cannot feel anger or panic; this is normal.”
Izzy, as a classical anarchist does, immediately tried to move his body. Finding that the two doctor fellows were quite right in their statement, he let a creepy smile escape his face... with some drool gracefully dripping onto his fur jacket.
“You do not realise it now but you cannot lie. Alongside this, the capacity for intentional omission, twisting of context and denying the truth to yourself have also been removed.”
"Really!?" This seemed to have excited him, "I am a fantastic rockn'rolla..." he tested, to his glee he was able to say it.
Truth be told, Izzy StarChewer (a name he changed to at the age of 15) was quite a successful british musician. His fame more or less stems from his antics more then his music, but regardless people show up in droves to see what crazy things he pulls of at his concert. For this reason, Izzy is a fairly great "rockn'rolla".
"Name's Izzy StarChewer, strange you be askin' for my name now innit?" His eyes drifted upwards as his entire face stretched in a dumbfounding smile. "Lovely place you've got here... needs some decoratin'..." the drugs obviously did not mix well with whatever drugs Izzy took beforehand.
The whole thing just felt wrong. It wasn't so much where she found herself upon awakening as it was the feelings that went with it. Admittedly this room, which she swore she had never been in before, was strange enough and felt wrong. However, it was how she felt about the whole that felt even more off. She knew, somewhere inside at least, she should have been scared out of her mind, but she was strangely calm. The whole thing s just felt wrong. It wasn't until the two tow figures came in that she learned why.
When they entered, she felt incredibly surprised. Mind you the surprise came from her lack of reaction, which by her expression, could have been described as stoic. It was all wrong, panic should have been setting in. After all she could remember enough to know that she was the type of person who had a problem with meeting new people; and she had a strange feeling that there was only a twenty-two per cent chance that these two were in fact people. That number, however, declined sharply when she heard them speak.
As she listened, she learned the reason for her calmness at the moment, though she wished she was better dressed for the occasion. Although she couldn't remember how or when exactly she had gotten here, she was still clothed in her red pyjamas,. Given the presence of the two beings she didn't know, under normal circumstances it would have been incredibly embarrassing. It was one of the many things which were floating around in her head, along with the things she needed to do today.
There was silence for a moment when the beings stopped speaking as her thoughts had wandered momentarily to writing that needed to be done. Though she had heard every word they said, it still took a moment for them to register. Obviously a side effect of the drugs that they had given her. For just a moment, she wondered if she had taken her medication before they took her. Deep inside she hoped that whatever they had given her wouldn't wear off if she hadn't. It was then that the silence was broken by words which came with an English accent in answer to the question posed by the beings.
“Beth. Beth Dent.” Beth's head titled a little to the side as she stared at the foreboding figures. “And you are?”
Client One - Nathaniel Welsh;
"My name?…Nathaniel Welsh."
As nice as it was to gain a straight answer, the slow nature of his tongue did not make it seem like true co-operation. It might have been the after-effects of the drugging, but his eyes were too alert to convince them so.
“Thank you, Nathaniel.”
Client Two - Corinne Anderson;
"Corinne... Anderson. Corinne Sylvia Anderson, and may I ask your names?"
“You can refer to me as Esqu.”
“You can refer to me as Dire.”
Their answers merged together as they spoke over one another; the reply was instant. There were many questions they were bound to answer, and others that they were bound to ignore, but to them, it was a frivolity.
Client Three - Beth Dent;
“Beth. Beth Dent… and you are?”
Why their names mattered so greatly to these humans was something they understood the psychology of, if not the practice of it. It did nothing to change the situation they had placed themselves in.
“Esqu.”
“Dire.”
They spoke their respective names and then added, “Esquire, if you must refer to us in pair.”
Client Four - Justin Crane;
"Ahhh, Justin Crane. I'd shake your hand masked men but I still lack the strength to do so... I'm quite happy you've removed anger and panic from my emotions, I love my control. And I can't lie? I'm glad the temptation is gone."
They weren’t looking for conversation on such things; it was merely their duty to present the relevant facts. Answers kept their jobs easier but needless information did not. They waited silently for his mouth to finally come to rest.
“Your answer is appreciated, Justin,” said Dire.
Esqu added, “Unfortunately, the temptation to lie might still be there, even though you cannot submit to it. We cannot completely alter human nature from what it has become.”
Client Five – Jane Evans;
"A name is important to its self, and to the person who was given the name at birth. I am unimportant; my name is unimportant. You said I can't lie, so am I lying now?"
“Your analogy is interesting, Jane…” Esqu replied.
“…But it holds no lies.” Dire finished.
“You are bound by similar laws as we,” they spoke together, “And we are bound by truth.
Client Six – Melena Jones;
"Melena, Melena Jones."
The answer was simple, straightforward. Unlike many of the others, she did show an intention to ‘beat around the bush’… or however the expression went. They accepted her attitude without passing comment – after all, what more was there to say. Her name was not even an interest for either of the duo.
Client Seven - Suzy Peterson;
The girl stared into space for a few moments after they asked their question, before she summoned an answer.
“S-Susan…Susan Peterson, but everyone just calls me Suzy.”
“That’s lovely, Suzy,” they spoke together, emotionless but not unkind, “Thank you.”
Client Eight - Izzy StarChewer;
"Name's Izzy StarChewer, strange you be askin' for my name now innit?"
The man did not seem to be quite as… controlled as most the others. He was certainly the only one to giggle at the situation.
“Your name does not concern us. Your ability to answer was all was needed to assess,” Esqu explained, “But we thank you for the reply, Izzy.” Despite what they said, and however many times they had said it, their tone did not sound appreciative. If anything, they sounded bored by the mundanity of the first trial.
Client Nine - Jone Pryce;
"Could you make this less freaky? I'm Jone Pryce, by the way. But you really go all out Saw style don't you man. Maybe we could add some color ya know to brighten the place up. I'm thinking maybe a yellow or a cream color, make it a little more welcoming and inviting."
"And do you...got like smokes man? Been kind of out of it. But now it's time to relax, ya know?"
“There is nothing about this that is supposed to frighten you, Jone,” Esqu replied passively, “Quite the opposite.” The man’s audacity was nothing short of impressive, albeit irritating.
“And ‘smokes’ do not exist in a place like this,” Dire finished.
Client Ten - Jazmine Farahani;
"Dr. Jazmine Hiyam Farahani. Arabic. Translates to 'the Hopeful vine with beautiful foliage that climbs the House of Farahani'. Doctor of Psychology."
The answer was more than they wished for, and more than they really cared to hear. You could not fault someone for being over-informative in such a situation however. It was certainly easier than the stubborn silence they often found themselves subjected to.
“We’re glad you are so willing to work with us, Jazmine.”
They did not even consider referring to her by title; such things would become insignificant in the hours to come.
Client Eleven – Breeze Rydell;
“I… Bre eze… Ryd…”
Her head fell forward heavily but it seemed that she was trying to answer their question. There was always at least one person who responded badly to their ‘chemicals’. It was an annoyance that they were inclined to forgive her for.
“If you are in discomfort, please inform us. Despite appearances, we are not here to make your time a misery… not for most of you, anyway.”
Client Twelve - Adam Baker;
“Adam Baker.”
The smile that plastered itself upon the man’s lips was… odd to them. The people that they found themselves with could be complacent or eccentric, sometimes switching between the two in an attempt to understand the surroundings. They often held neutral expressions as they groped to find fear at their ignorance. This man almost seemed not to care. The doctors took it in their stride,
“Very good, Adam.”
Client Thirteen - Dame Victoria;
"A name is not given, it is earned. I do not deny you the truth, I simply regulate its strength. I am Dame, a name given to me by queen and country. The rest will be earned in due time. That is my title, what is yours?"
“Co-operation will be your ‘saviour’, Victoria,” Esqu murmured, not taking bait in the way she snarled. They, of course, already knew her name. Such information was not the goal of the first trial.
“We have no title; they are an earthbound attribute,” Dire continued, “We carry only names.”
Client Fourteen - Gregory Springer;
“Who said I’m resisting? My name is Gregory Springer.”
“We’re pleased that you intend to keep this simple,” Esqu replied. The room seemed quieter without the boy’s rambling; it seemed true that the younger they were, the more irritating they tended to be.
“And this is not a kidnapping,” said Dire, “You were the one to bring yourself here, after all.”
Client Fifteen - Charlie Detweiler;
"Charlie Detweiler.”
“Well done,” they muttered together. The answer did not seem to come easily to the man; his mouth seemed preoccupied dealing with other matters.
“Try to relax, Charlie. These questions should take less than half-the-hour, considerably shorter depending on your replies.”
---
All Clients;
Their faces close in around yours and a bright light suddenly blinds your vision. You can see no torch in their hands, and yet, it feels as though they stare into your skull. If only you could see past those masks… but no. The eyeholes are shadow-coated; gazing at them does nothing but cause your mind to ache.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
SmileyCassandra
02-06-2012, 01:25 PM
Melena Jones
The men said nothing when she told them her name, and she hung her head as she began to feel dizzy. She then looked back up at them, and was blinded by a bright light. She cursed under her breath, and closed her eyes tight. Way to kill the headache no? She then heard them speak, and her eyes opened once more.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
My ambition in life? Why would someone want to know that? Holding her captive, and asking her for her ambition in life? Melena looked at them for a few seconds, and blinked as she began to answer.
"Ambition is like a dream is it not? Something you wish to achieve through hardwork, and determination? Well, you want details? Here are your details. I want to cure cancer, and make men and women around the world healthy. I want to study, and become smart enough to do so. It is something I desire to do, and I honestly believe I can do it. I don't want to hear my mother run to the bathroom at night, and I do not wish to see another friend die. Cancer causes many deaths, and I wish to cure it, and make things at least a little bit better" she said, now taking a deep breath. Her voice was strong, but she still did not move. There, they got their answer.
She then looked at them again, and waited for what they had to say next.
Mr.Cynic
02-06-2012, 08:54 PM
Jone Pryce stared at them with a bit of a raised eyebrow. Really, no cigarettes what so ever. God this was going to be a long day wasn't it. He hadn't quite expected this be the thing he had to do, but he simply stared at them. How was kidnapping a person not creepy? Or the fact that he didn't know where he was not creepy? How were those mask not creepy?
It didn't quite really matter, he revelled in watching horror movies. It was simply he would prefer they were on equal terms. It was okay though, he supposed. But what really mattered to him was that he was going to go a day without his habit and that was going to burn a whole in his thinking.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
These people really needed to get their facts straight, how was a question like that not creepy? He needs to stop focusing on this. He only smiled for he already knew the answer.
"You know man," he paused, "All my life I've always been the outcast's outcast. The goths and the emos couldn't handle me, alongside teachers and students. I felt like a stray. I felt like no one could hear me."
He stared them.
"Now I don't like going into the gravest of details, cause I'd bore you," he paused, "But I dediced a long time ago that I would achieve giving a voice to those whom don't have a voice. It sounds so stupid. But people ignore the little details in front of them and forget to listen to certain people or other species of this world. I want to speak for those whom don't have a voice, like I never had a voice. I'm a writer. I encourage people to speak and form opinions. I encourage people to speak up and listen to those whom they never considered to listen to."
Jone gave them another smile.
"So there you have it, my ambition in life to speak for those not spoken for," Jone said.
Snotgirl
02-06-2012, 09:50 PM
If Gregory Springer could, he would have recoiled in surprise. “I brought myself here? Aw come on! That’s one big lie. I wouldn’t have come here without a bag of chips and root beer in hand. After school I always get that! Then again, that’s probably the reason I’m getting fatter.” He patted his stomach. Gregory wasn’t fat. He liked to run and fortunately had an excellent metabolism. Of course, he would credit it all to running track.
That’s when they shone the light into his eyes. “Jesus.” Gregory gasped, blinded. He shut his eyes tightly.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
My…ambition?
“Well of course I want to be rich and famous, but then again, I’m pretty sure everyone would want to.”
Gregory tried to move his head, but no matter which way he moved it, the bright light would follow his eyes. He wished he could block the light, but even when he closed his eyes, the bright still shone through his eyelids. Of course, it wasn’t as strong but still.
“I….want to help people. You know, genuinely help people. Getting past all the shallow dreams most people have…I want to help people.”
Gregory said slowly. It was a question he occasionally thought about at night. But he never really thought deeply about what he really wanted.
“I thought about going into the Corp, but the U.S doesn’t seem to be helping at all with these wars. You know maybe follow my dad’s footsteps. But I don’t know if I could risk my life for someone I don’t know. I just don’t have a true answer for that.”
Gregory shrugged awkwardly
“I’m sorry.”
Sickly
02-06-2012, 10:31 PM
Her eyes clamped shut but the light was still prominent beyond her lids. It created a dull ache between her eyes. She could feel them come closer as to inspect an interesting specimen.
“Choose your answer carefully,” Victoria jumped in her chair when they spoke, their voices lacked harmony and it bothered her greatly. Like one person and obviously not so. She gulped and waited for them to continue.
“Your replies now hold significance.” This was not something new Victoria. Her level of importance demanded a significant approach when it came to speaking. Her words always carried weight.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
Easy, Victoria's greatest ambition in life was to serve her country before herself. To promote peace and respect from the motherland. To live life in the service of others.
"I wanted a baby."
“You can refer to me as Esqu.”
“You can refer to me as Dire.”
They could not truly be described as more than a single person. Imperfect rhythm or not, Esqu and Dire spoke as a unit, like a cloning experiment gone wrong. Strangely enough, though, their use of the word can soothed her. Not machines, then. That little grammatical slip made all the intangible difference.
Still, she could not find in her limbs the impetus to move - whether that was from inability or the lingering effects of the drugs, she couldn't say. It didn't feel threatening. Even so, when they leaned close, somehow generating near-violent light (lack of glasses now seemed a blessing), Corinne couldn't help but feel her budding reassurance at their humanity shrink back.
“Choose your answer carefully," Esqu and Dire warned. "Your replies now hold significance.” Though they'd backed away, their presence cast a shadow over Corinne even more than ever, choking her.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be? Details may spare your life.”
That final sentence settled in the pit of her stomach like a rock. May spare your life. But may not. Death's face felt so close that if Corinne could have reached out, she could have touched it. It would probably have a masked beak. Lex, she thought. If I'd known, I would have said goodbye. To you and Amy, held Braxton and Zaire. But I suppose that's the way of these things. You don't know. I love you all. A practical person, Corinne did not believe thoughts could be sent to another. She focused on them mostly for her own sake, to anchor herself in the face of dizzying realization.
Corinne took a deep breath, like she wanted to savor every one that might be her last, and answered.
"Ambition..." A strange word, really. The implication being you wanted something for yourself. To reach some pinnacle. Ambition, a word of the young and politicians. "It's different for me, I suppose. The things you want as a girl - I've enjoyed my life. I love child psychology, as frustrating as it is sometimes. I've already met the love of my life, married her and raised a daughter together. I've cheered at my daughter's graduation and cried at her wedding. I've held my grandchildren and loved them no less for their very strange names."
She sighed. "When you're just starting out, you're filled with this... fire. Fire to change the world. But now... My greatest ambition is to live happily. To make the most of the moments I have, to love my family, and not to never be sad, but to be happy anyway."
"To me..." Corinne closed her eyes, savoring the memories flooding to the tip of her tongue. "To me that would be an achievement."
As though she'd worn herself out, had used all her words and could summon no other, the woman hung her head, eyes still closed, breathing deeply. A curtain falling on the first, and maybe last, act.
Mysteria
02-07-2012, 02:06 AM
“If you are in discomfort, please inform us. Despite appearances, we are not here to make your time a misery… not for most of you, anyway.”
The words were beginning to sound more cohesive to Breeze although basically she still felt as though a train had just ran over her as she felt her pulse pounding in her temples.
"Thank you. I'm not in pain but my head feels fuzzy."
She felt her strength returning slightly, finally managing to lift her head only to find herself staring into a bright light. Although she immediately squinted her action brought no relief, the light still as bright as though her eyes were wide open.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
There were the voices again. Answer...replies...
Breeze shook her head to the best of her ability, still trying to rid it of the cobwebs.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
None of this was making sense to Breeze Rydell as she fought her way out of the fog but it seemed they wanted something from her even if she had yet to discern what it was.
"My ambition?" she questioned in her weakened state, not sure how to answer and only able to come up with one simple reply, but it was the only one she could give them.
"Before I die, I hope to make a difference in at least one person's life."
It was a base and crude answer, but for Breeze it was an honest answer.
Housemaster
02-07-2012, 04:49 AM
The emotionless tones of the two large figures replied to Izzy's rather unorthodox composure. If they found the rockn'rolla to be an odd figure, they did a fairly good job at hiding it due to their constant aura of neutrality. They began to reply,
“Your name does not concern us. Your ability to answer was all was needed to assess,” One explained, “But we thank you for the reply, Izzy.”
The last sentence sounded almost bored, but then again Izzy was never one who could make minuscule observations like that. "Such polite blokes you are eh?" he beamed, getting readily used to this strange environment.
When their faces began to close in around his and a bright light suddenly blinded his vision, Izzy as trained by countless adventures to the hospital opened his eyes and stuck out his tongue as if he was sitting in for a routine check-up (routine being found in some alley blacked out on 'X' amount of drugs). Up to now there has not been anything that particularly worried the rock-star as it fit pretty well with his personality to go with the flow, neither was he a particularly quizzative type like these two 'doctors' were.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they spoke in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
He really did not hear the last line too well, and even if he did he never really paid much serious attention to 'questions of significance' and found them to be fairly boring and mundane.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
The rock-star laughed, "Well, I guess-a bout five minutes ago, at least I think it'd be five, my biggest goal in life was to get me some pie n' chip." his mouth watered just thinking about it, "Five minutes from now, who the hell knows what I'll want!" he tilted his head to the side, "Being tied down by 'life goals' is somethin' middle-class wankers grumble about each n' every mornin till they keel into their grave. 'Not me' I says!" He would have pointed to himself, but was still unable to move. "I'd rather be thrown in the looney bin before anythin' like that happens to me! A nice... comfortable... white... hey fellas. Is this the looney bin? An' if it is, any chance I can have some pie n' chip?"
“Your analogy is interesting, Jane…” Esqu replied.
“…But it holds no lies.” Dire finished.
“You are bound by similar laws as we,” they spoke together, “And we are bound by truth.
Their faces close in around yours and a bright light suddenly blinds your vision. You can see no torch in their hands, and yet, it feels as though they stare into your skull. If only you could see past those masks… but no. The eyeholes are shadow-coated; gazing at them does nothing but cause your mind to ache.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
Had she told them her name? She groaned; her head hurt. She couldn't remember anything from a few moments ago. That thought concerned her deeply. How would she explain the lapse in her memory? Her absence from her presentation? Was her presentation today? What day is it? Several thoughts ran through her head, and she tried to come to grasp with all of them. All answers eluded her. Only question marks remained. Just question marks that made her stomach knot up.
What had the monsters said. Ambition? What is her main ambition in life? The greatest thing she could achieve in life? Just one thing? She wanted to achieve so many in life. So much that becoming anything less than a workaholic was unacceptable. She tried to brush a few blond strands out of her face, but her fingers only tingled and stayed in place. She inwardly cursed.
"One thing that I want to achieve in my life?" she said, staring down at the ground. "One thing that I want to achieve is... I want to graduate from Yale with a doctorate degree in Accounting. A doctorate degree in Accounting would give me access to any career in the field that I wanted. I could be a major stock broker on Wall Street. I could become the Secretary of the United States Treasury.
"I could have the world eating out of the palm of my hand. I could even open up a chain of national banks all across the United States, and attend charity galas, dine with the big wigs of Wall Street. All that could be mine if I wanted it. But I have to get accepted into Yale first. Or Harvard. Maybe even Oxford."
Wattz
02-07-2012, 10:14 AM
”Very good, Adam.”
Yes, very good indeed. How obedient of him, even in his dreams, to please others without question. Even when he didn’t mean to, he felt as if he were catering to others. Usually it wasn’t so bad, making others happy. But when you don’t know where the line crosses between asking others to care and—
“Choose your answer carefully. Your replies now hold significance.”
At this, Adam nodded. He could almost feel his body sink further into the chair at the duo’s judgment, emanating like heat from their forms. If only he could rub his fingers together or tap his cheek, then maybe he could know for sure if—
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
So many possible answers, so many choices panging around in his head. The ones he felt he should say were ones he’d told his teachers, his parents, his siblings, his friends. But the true answer had been suppressed in the back of his mind for so long, passed away as a fleeting thought amidst the others. A negative thought, his therapist had called it. A negative thought, and nothing more. Just let it be, she said.
“I want to have the last laugh when the world ends.” It had been so surprisingly easy to say, a petty desire he’d harbored inside for so long. How liberating, to see it splayed before his very eyes.
“It’s just… it’s exhausting, making others laugh. Even I’m guilty of it, but in the end, there’s nothing to laugh about but… you know, the end. It’s all kinda silly, if you ask me. But god, to watch it all burn, to have the final laugh on the best punch line ever, now that… is a dream worth having.”
His smile widened into a big, goofy grin, familiar in all its simplicity. “But you can’t tell anyone those kinds of things, you know? People’d think you… crazy or something.”
SandQueen
02-08-2012, 02:48 AM
Ambition it was a simple word and something that Dr. Farahani had talked to many of her patients about. It was also something she'd given thought to on her own so answering the question would be easy.
"To be better." She replied confidently. "To be faster, smarter, stronger, and better than any of my peers. As Daedalus said to Ariadne 'Always forward, never left or right'. If I don't feel like I'm doing everything I can possibly do then I don't feel like I'm doing anything at all."
"Oh I must agree," Justin replied to the pair, "quite the shame, really, I loathe liars and lying myself."
Blinding light filled his eyes and he tried to stare at the masked men, but his head hurt too much so he looked away. Their strange vocal pattern continued as the back away. Justin nodded listening to their words, he liked their direct approach to the .... meeting. It was quite appreciated.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
"That is an interesting way to ask, I must say, my ambition is all about life in general." He pondered for a moment trying to find the words to explain. Justin spoked as he thought, "I find it annoying that no one has ever asked me this before, irritating to the soul that my desires haven't been worthy knowledge to someone."
"It may be disturbing and weird to hear but I wish to achieve Slaughter. To murder all of them, everyone that I cross paths with. To kill, to maim, to destroy people's lives. I don't care at how I do this, any way at all is perfect for my tastes."
"To have them know that I was their death."
Kiall
02-08-2012, 10:07 AM
Grant did not like the sound of that.
“What does he mean life depends on it? Uh..uhh, don’t tell em what you really think! Tell em what your mom told you to tell your grandma that one time. That you wanted to be a dentist!” Grant suggested.
“She can’t lie remember?” Bethany replied.
I kinda want to tell them, I’m sure they won’t mind it.
“Do what you think is best honey,” Bethany said, “we’re just here to help.”
“Yeah…What she said,” Grant acquiesced reluctantly.
“I wanna go into space!” She said excitedly. “I wanna go on those big rocket ships and blast off! Pshhhhooooww!” She said making rocket ship noises. “I wanna fly to the moon! And..and sail among the stars!”
“Let me see what spring is like on...” Grant muttered.
“Jupiter and Mars!” Suzy crowed not realizing that what Grant said could not be heard since it had been only in her mind. “But what I really, really want,” she said her face lighting up, “is to go on a new planet! I wanna be an explorer and have lots of adventures on a brand new world!”
She looked around after giving them her answer annoyed a bit by not being able to move still. “Hey um…mister bird people? When will I be able to move again? My nose itches…” She actually really wanted to pick it, but she had that itch that only comes sometimes when you really want to pick your nose so it wasn’t technically a lie.
“Well done,” they muttered together. The answer did not seem to come easily to the man; his mouth seemed preoccupied dealing with other matters.
“Try to relax, Charlie. These questions should take less than half-the-hour, considerably shorter depending on your replies.”
As if he could do anything else. They had a real sense of humor that he could only barely grasp at like some phantasm floating, lingering just within reach... slipping right through his fingers...
And then BAM, BLINDING LIGHT, SO BRIGHT that it made him jerk uncontrollably away from it. "Holy... ssshhhh... sshhit..." he slobbered out, wincing as from a hard crack to the side of his face, eyes pinched shut. His limbs shook and trembled, eager to move for cover, but...
Their faces closed in around him.
Staring. Drilling deep like a dentist right into the hard bone and marrow of his thoughts.
His tongue clicked fatly in response; the kind of bound and gagging noise you might expect from a kid congested with thick swabs of mucus in his brain.
Empty eyes... lifeless eyes... doll's eyes...
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
Fan--tastic.
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
"Sharin' a chocolate moo-shake wi' a kid in a... cancer ward," he blubbered out. "Mine's got Jack though." Big crooked grin. "Give 'im some if he as't."
"After bowlin' and furrench fries."
Then a sudden thought, freed from its drug-induced locker: "Ma dawg's gonna mess on th' carpet if'n I dun git home soon. Shoot."
“Thank you, Nathaniel.”
He nodded softly, taking a deep breath before restoring his deep blue gaze at them and with that his serenity.
They were terrible things to look upon, looming enigmatic visages which their sight seemed to crawl directly out of his most twisted nightmares...
He knew he hated them.
They probably didn't like him too...
Why would they thank him?!
He tried to fight against whatever force it was that bond him, but felt that everything about him was still numb and dull.
Lying fuckers...
They must have enjoyed having him cornered while they studied him and thinking they could know or understand anything about him...
One world or another... It was always...
THE SAME SHIT!
*LIGHT*
"GRRR!", he gasped and twisted in his chair, wounded by the sudden light like a bat would whimper once exposed to such bright illumination. Trying to focus his vision, trying to see better, his eyes moved back and forth within their protective circles, realizing that those two figures were the ones to blind him...
But with what?!
He shivered under his skin, every hair in his body standing, feeling that he was awake and aware like a beast would once it sensed danger.
“Choose your answer carefully,” they say in disjointed voices, backing away with sudden grace, “Your replies now hold significance.”
He gritted his teeth, not sure if he was willing to play into this game anymore...
“Tell us what your main ambition is in life ; if you could achieve one thing only, what would it be?... Details may spare your life.”
That question was too easy to answer...
"Power...", he uttered slowly.
Why was he so eager to answer?!...
He wasn't sure himself as to 'why' he would...
But the words burst out of his lips and he enjoyed their taste.
"If I could, I'd wish to live past my years, see more... Do more.. Conquer and explore... Feed... My every need... hunger... and lust...".
Beth was a little surprised that they had chosen to actually give their names. Still, she found it comforting, if not a little creepy that they were so forthcoming,. Even with whatever drug they had given her flowing though her veins, the sound of their voices sent a chill down her spine.
She also found the second question rather strange. What purpose could possibly be served by them wanting to know what her one main ambition was? For that matter, could Beth even give a real answer to this particular question. The name one was easy, this one was considerably more difficult.
Of course Beth had goals. She had the fantasy novel she was working on. Not to mention that she would be going to university to study for a zoology degree. There were of course other things. Thoughts of living a long life. Thoughts of the possibility of getting married in the future. These were all goals that she had; but in Beth's mind, they all served one end result.
“I guess I just want to have a good life,” Beth seemed to be pondering the words even as she spoke them. “To be happy,” Beth paused or a moment staring at the two beings. “So what's the purpose of all this Esquire? What's so important about my life? And I was wondering if I might be able to get a glass of water.”
Client One - Nathaniel Welsh;
"Power..."
"If I could, I'd wish to live past my years, see more... Do more.. Conquer and explore... Feed...My every need... hunger... and lust..."
“Unfortunately…you can’t, Mr Welsh.”
Who would waste their time on an unattainable fantasy? The earth-bound had a terrible habit of it; rarely, did it do them any good. Judging by what he said, the man before them was undeniably human in every way.
Client Two - Corinne Anderson;
"Ambition..."
"It's different for me, I suppose. The things you want as a girl - I've enjoyed my life. I love child psychology, as frustrating as it is sometimes. I've already met the love of my life, married her and raised a daughter together. I've cheered at my daughter's graduation and cried at her wedding. I've held my grandchildren and loved them no less for their very strange names...”
“…When you're just starting out, you're filled with this... fire. Fire to change the world. But now... My greatest ambition is to live happily. To make the most of the moments I have, to love my family, and not to never be sad, but to be happy anyway."
"To me... To me that would be an achievement."
It was not uncommon that the elderly clients gave them the purest answers. After all, by then, they had usually achieved their previous goals or given up on them. Regrets could not be passed off as current ambitions, and thus they were left with little to offer in reply. ‘Happiness’ was indeed as difficult a fantasy as any other, but its motive could not be passed off as complex.
Client Three - Beth Dent;
“I guess I just want to have a good life, to be happy.”
“So what's the purpose of all this Esquire? What's so important about my life? And I was wondering if I might be able to get a glass of water.”
She gave a standard answer, although her thoughts seemed to reel for many moments on the subject. Unlike most the others, she directed questions back, both a hindrance and intriguing.
“The purpose is to make a decision. There is nothing important about anyone’s life, not even yours.”
They spoke with quick words, despite their apathy, forced to give replies.
“And water does not exist here. We apologise for any inconvenience.”
Client Four - Justin Crane;
"That is an interesting way to ask, I must say, my ambition is all about life in general. I find it annoying that no one has ever asked me this before, irritating to the soul that my desires haven't been worthy knowledge to someone."
"It may be disturbing and weird to hear but I wish to achieve slaughter. To murder all of them, everyone that I cross paths with. To kill, to maim, to destroy people's lives. I don't care at how I do this, any way at all is perfect for my tastes."
"To have them know that I was their death."
“That would certainly be a challenge,” they both replied dryly. If the man were serious, then his life would be overwhelmed by such a dream. Perhaps a useless way to spend his time, but was there really anything other? Morals, the thing he feared to be judged by, were only subjective. His actions would be none of their concern should he survive this hell.
Client Five - Jane Evans;
"One thing that I want to achieve in my life? One thing that I want to achieve is... I want to graduate from Yale with a doctorate degree in Accounting. A doctorate degree in Accounting would give me access to any career in the field that I wanted. I could be a major stock broker on Wall Street. I could become the Secretary of the United States Treasury.
"I could have the world eating out of the palm of my hand. I could even open up a chain of national banks all across the United States, and attend charity galas, dine with the big wigs of Wall Street. All that could be mine if I wanted it. But I have to get accepted into Yale first. Or Harvard. Maybe even Oxford."
They were strong goals for a girl so young.
“Life is not as linear as you expect.”
For some people, it was, but not for her. A shame that they could see these things so far ahead in time. Their masks gave away nothing as they studied her further.
[Deceased] Client Six– Melena Jones;
"Ambition is like a dream is it not? Something you wish to achieve through hardwork, and determination? Well, you want details? Here are your details. I want to cure cancer, and make men and women around the world healthy. I want to study, and become smart enough to do so. It is something I desire to do, and I honestly believe I can do it. I don't want to hear my mother run to the bathroom at night, and I do not wish to see another friend die. Cancer causes many deaths, and I wish to cure it, and make things at least a little bit better"
They had asked for details and had received them.
It was a shame about the outcome.
“You will feel tired,” they said together, “but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, strong in stench, although invisible to the human eye. It provided a peaceful end, minimal discomfort.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Seven - Suzy Peterson;
“I wanna go into space I wanna go on those big rocket ships and blast off! Pshhhhooooww! I wanna fly to the moon! And… and sail among the stars!”
“Jupiter and Mars! But what I really, really want is to go on a new planet! I wanna be an explorer and have lots of adventures on a brand new world!”
“…Hey um…mister bird people? When will I be able to move again? My nose itches…”
A disjointed answer, but enough that they could deduce its worth. Her ambitions were not unusual for a child, useless as they were.
“You’ll be able to move soon enough, Suzy. Try to be patient with us.”
Client Eight - Izzy StarChewer;
"Well, I guess-a bout five minutes ago, at least I think it'd be five, my biggest goal in life was to get me some pie n' chip. Five minutes from now, who the hell knows what I'll want! Being tied down by 'life goals' is somethin' middle-class wankers grumble about each n' every mornin till they keel into their grave. 'Not me' I says!"
"I'd rather be thrown in the looney bin before anythin' like that happens to me! A nice... comfortable... white... hey fellas. Is this the looney bin? An' if it is, any chance I can have some pie n' chip?"
“This isn’t a psychiatric hospital…” Esqu replied.
“Although we guess that could be a matter of opinion,” the other muttered quietly.
“…And sorry, Mr ‘StarChewer’, but neither pie or chips exist here.”
[Deceased] Client Nine - Jone Pryce;
"Now I don't like going into the gravest of details, cause I'd bore you… But I decided a long time ago that I would achieve giving a voice to those whom don't have a voice. It sounds so stupid. But people ignore the little details in front of them and forget to listen to certain people or other species of this world. I want to speak for those who don't have a voice, like I never had a voice. I'm a writer. I encourage people to speak and form opinions. I encourage people to speak up and listen to those whom they never considered to listen to."
"So there you have it, my ambition in life to speak for those not spoken for."
It was different to the usual answer they received, unusual, and yet, not enough.
“You will feel tired,” they said together, for the second time, “but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, an odour strong enough to sting the nostrils, although invisible to the naked eye. It provided a peaceful end, minimal discomfort.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Ten - Jazmine Farahani;
"To be better. To be faster, smarter, stronger, and better than any of my peers. As Daedalus said to Ariadne 'Always forward, never left or right'. If I don't feel like I'm doing everything I can possibly do then I don't feel like I'm doing anything at all."
How…human.
“A survivor then?” Dire asked, before Esqu could say,
“It’ll be interesting to see how you fare in a game such as ours.”
[Deceased] Client Eleven - Breeze Rydell;
"My ambition? Before I die, I hope to make a difference in at least one person's life."
Simple. Sweet. Deadly.
“You will feel tired,” they said together, for the final time, “but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, clogging all senses with its piercing scent, although invisible to the human eye. It provided a peaceful end, minimal discomfort.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Twelve - Adam Baker;
“I want to have the last laugh when the world ends. It’s just… it’s exhausting, making others laugh. Even I’m guilty of it, but in the end, there’s nothing to laugh about but… you know, the end. It’s all kinda silly, if you ask me. But god, to watch it all burn, to have the final laugh on the best punch line ever, now that… is a dream worth having.”
“But you can’t tell anyone those kinds of things, you know? People’d think you… crazy or something.”
“It’s… unconventional,” they muttered, “Not necessarily crazy.”
They were not there to judge – Each answer had been given to them a thousand times by countless types of people. When honesty was forced, it was surprising how… similar people became. Strange when they struggled so much to be different.
Client Thirteen - Dame Victoria;
"I wanted a baby."
Silence followed as they waited for an explanation; none came to their dismay. Sometimes, it was simply because the person had nothing more to add. Other times, they were merely unwilling to dwell upon the truth they were facing.
Client Fourteen - Gregory Springer;
“Well of course I want to be rich and famous, but then again, I’m pretty sure everyone would want to... I…. want to help people. You know, genuinely help people. Getting past all the shallow dreams most people have…I want to help people… I thought about going into the Corp, but the U.S doesn’t seem to be helping at all with these wars. You know maybe follow my dad’s footsteps. But I don’t know if I could risk my life for someone I don’t know. I just don’t have a true answer for that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologise. We have grown accustomed to the… indecisiveness of youth.”
Although just because they had expected it did not been they enjoyed it. Anything that complicated their work was merely a nuisance.
Client Fifteen - Charlie Detweiler;
"Sharin' a chocolate moo-shake wi' a kid in a... cancer ward. Mine's got Jack though. Give 'im some if he as't… After bowlin' and furrench fries."
"Ma dawg's gonna mess on th' carpet if'n I dun git home soon. Shoot."
The man seemed less able than their other patrons but, as long as he could answer, they didn’t care.
“Your dog will be fine, Mr Detweiler,” they responded. Worrying about such a thing, considering the circumstances, did nothing to change their opinion of the man. “His excretions should be the least of your troubles.”
All Remaining Clients:
There is a pause, and a gentle clicking sound fills the room. The doctors seem to freeze, contemplating, until the noise ceases a few moments later.
“Congratulations,” the duo squawk, “Your answer is correct.”
There is a sense of finality about the statement, although it seems odd that the truth could be described as anything other. As the words leave their mouths, the walls seem to shift; the paint upon them trickles in directions that defy gravity. The patches of black become larger, although their shape is no more distinguished. Your hands and feet feel as though a weight has been lifted from them, moveable, although the rest of your body remains numb.
“A second question must be answered,” Dire says, followed by Esqu,
“Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
Housemaster
02-14-2012, 05:50 AM
"No pie n' chip?" Izzy sounded dissapointed, but quickly distracted with some other internal thought about another type of food. "How 'bout some biscuits?"
Either they had no biscuits or simply ignored Izzy's drug fuelled munchies, but the two doctor-like figures stood silently over the rocker's drooling volume of mass. After what seemed to be a short pause, both doctors suddenly spoke;
“Congratulations,” the duo squawk, “Your answer is correct.”
"C-correct?" Izzy mumbled, swallowing some loose siliva found in his mouth, "Of course I'm bloodly fuckin' correct! I wouldn't be alive if I weren't! I'd be like, one of them boxxy workers." Meaning people who work in cubicles, "All of em' dead... dead, dead, dead!" he was slurring his words and could not notice how ironically true his statement about him being alive was.
“A second question must be answered,” Dire says, followed by Esqu,
“Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
Izzy cocked a lazy eye, "The fuck is this?" he half shouted, "Y'all fellas certainly know how to be keepin' in character!"
The rocker had first thought this to be some odd dream or drug trip, then he pieced that it may be some friends of his trying to play a trick on him. "Ya think you be foolin' me Bobby?" he laughed, refering to Bobby his band-mate who plays the keyboard. "Tryin' to make me admit again how you're the fucking brains behind the band? Writin' all them songs an' lettin' me flash em' like my own... Ya big fish you!" Izzy tried to sneak a peak into the doctor's eyes, but only got a splitting headache. "Christ, what'cha fucking put in my shit Bobs?" referring to the drugs he took prior to waking up in this current situation.
Fortunately, Izzy indirectly answered the doctor's question by saying how Bobby wrote all the songs and most of the music for their band, while having no interest in taking all the glamour and leaving it to Izzy to shine all of its glory. Probably the only man Izzy genuinely respects as he quickly labels everyone else as a wanker.
Unfazed by Justin's answer, the masked pair continued with another question.
“A second question must be answered,” Dire says, followed by Esqu,
“Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
"She is a nobody." Justin reply after a moments thought, he paused before giving more information. "Catherine is her name, she's in her sixties, she lives alone, has never been married, doesn't have any children. I've seen her smile once, her teeth were yellow."
"Forty years ago she arrived in town, long before I was born. Immediately she took up work at the general store. She's still there."
"A monotonous routine, day after day. Repeating over most of her life." Whether Justin knew it or not he spoke in awe. "Doing the same thing... whenever I see her, it's a wonderful image."
"I can't do that. Variety and change I require." Justin finished, "so I admire Catherine for that."
“Life is not as linear as you expect.”
The duo spoke as if they knew the future, and that made Jane's confidence falter. Life wasn't easy, she knew that. Change was one of her hardest fears to overcome, so whenever life threw her a curve ball, it knocked her on her ass and she struggled to crawl back onto her high horse.
The question the duo asked dumbfounded her.
Jane was quiet for a long while, running over all those she admired. There weren't many, but what would happen if she told the masked fiends that? She couldn't lie, but her mouth felt dry. A lump rose up in her throat, and she fought to keep her anxiety down. She looked up to see the room swirling. Even the creatures in black seemed to swirl. It was hard to focus for a moment. She closed her eyes.
"I don't admire anyone. Not directly. I know that's not what you're looking for, but that's all I got. Admiring just one person will lead to a crushing blow if they do something so outrageous that they lose your full admiration. I've seen that happen to many people. I don't want to be one of them."
She thought for a moment longer, "I admire anyone who thrives to achieve a better life for themselves. Those that grab the little strand of hope, and climb to the top, past all their problems, the obstacles that can either make or break you. Those people deserve to be truly admired. Life's not easy, and if they can overcome the worst obstacles in their life to achieve the best possible thing for them, then why not admire them?"
She frowned. The need to please others with her responses was starting to come back. She hated it, and she hated the fact that she couldn't lie. But at the same time... She felt free. Free from all the stuck-up people that demanded thing their way. Free from the critics that claimed she could not achieve her goals.
"I don't expect you to accept that answer, but it is true."
She paused, and smiled a bit to herself. "Thank you for giving me the ability to tell the truth. You don't know how hard it is to tell the truth in my life. One wrong word, and people get their panties up in a bunch. It's stupid. I shouldn't have to kiss ass to get anywhere in life, but that's how the world goes round."
There is no such thing as an honest politician.
Kiall
02-15-2012, 09:36 PM
“Aww” Suzy pouted at the response of the bird people. She felt a weight off her hands an looked down noticing she could move them again…though not her arms. “Hrrrnk!” Suzy grunted trying to bring her head down to her upturned finger, desperate for the sweet relief of booger picking…She was so caught up in her endeavor she almost missed their next question. “Whuh?” she asked looking back up.
“They want to know who you admire most and why dear,” Bethany replied
“Bet I know who that is too,” Grant grumbled.
“It’s not a competition Grant,” she replied smoothly.
“You’re only saying that cause you’re winning!” He retorted.
Stop it! I love you Grant! Both of you! Don’t fight!
“We love you too Suzy,” they said in perfect unison.
“Umm…well if I gotta pick one person it’d have to be Bethany,” she answered pausing as she tried to figure out how to explain her reasoning. “Well for one thing she’s really really smart…”
“Yeah she is pretty smart…” Grant admitted
“Thank you Grant!” Bethany said happily.
“Blow it up your nose Beth!” he retorted.
“She’s always pushing me to do stuff better..She never says anythings impossible but she always wants me to improve, She’s also really calm and nice and makes me think things through when I’m angry or sad,” Suzy nodded satisfied with that answer. “Grant’s my best friend and I love him! But I wanna be just like Bethany when I grow up!” It had never really occurred to her to explain that these people were in fact inside her head. Every time she had tried people just got scared so she had just stopped trying though the topic had never really come up much, she looked around as if noticing the room for the first time now.
“Something seems different about this room,” Grant said, “not sure what…”
Like auditory flashes of a strobe light, the room filled with a clicking sound directly after Corinne closed her mouth. The two, Esqu and Dire, paused for a moment, like machines recalibrating in the echoes of the sound.
“Congratulations,” they finally announced, “Your answer is correct.”
A strange sense of relief stole over Corinne, relaxation of a tension she didn't know she was holding. She felt as though, somehow, she'd just been judged, her worth assessed in a single question. Like her soul hung in the balance during a test on which she could not cheat. She knew it should be terrifying, but apparently the calming drugs lingered in her system... perhaps interacting with the Ibuprofen she'd taking that morning... That morning? When was she, anyway? How much time had passed?
Behind the pair, the walls shifted. As though scalded by the little spots of blackness, white paint retreated; improbably, impossibly, leaving larger swathes from where it ran. Corinne frowned, all but unaware of the lightening in her hands and feet as she stared at the wall, trying to determine how that that happened. It didn't look like anything was being projected. There was no clear source for an image to come from. And yet.
The twins interrupted her musings. One of them, who she thought might have been Dire but couldn't quite be sure, spoke. "A second question must be answered."
"Tell us the person you admire most," Esqu commanded. "Tell us the reason why."
The question before... Not so difficult. Everyone, at some point in their life, tasted ambition. Remembered that taste. People strive, they often want for themselves. But who did Corinne admire? She supposed she could just start talking. Unable to lie, she might tell the truth, but somehow that seemed to be cheating. If she didn't know for herself, what would the value be? And yet, every person whom she admired a part of, she also knew had flaws. Admiration meant looking up not to someone, but at someone. Where had she last left her rose colored lenses?
Corinne wished she could move. Often, the simple act of her body in motion helped her think. In this situation, though, she'd have to be propelled solely by the wheels of her mind.
"I..." she began slowly. "I admire my best friend. Her name's Cindy." Hesitation. She stared off into the distance. "we've been friends since graduate school. She wanted to go into adolescent psychology. I wanted to go into child psychology. Her little sister was very sick - anorexic - and she wanted to help other teenagers with that." A laugh, and Corinne shook her head to try and get herself back on track. "I don't know that I admire her most - though I guess I must - we are still friends, after all this time, but I do admire her. Anyway."
"When Cindy was twenty-nine, she started a relationship with a guy. I didn't know very much about him, I was busy developing my relationship with the other members of my practice at the time, and we were a bit distant, but we made sure to talk at least once a month. I thought she seemed a little off, but didn't press it. It turned out, he was emotionally abusive and physically intimidating." A storm crept over Corinne's face.
"But that's not why I admire her. I admire her because she's moved on. She's... forgiven him. I can't. I have hated that man, who I only met once or twice, for over twenty years. I can never forgive the parents of the children who come into my practice and I find out they're abusing their kids. She's strong, you know."
For a brief moment, Corinne closed her eyes then reopened them, focused attentively on Esqu and Dire. "I admire her for her ability to forgive. I think of myself as generally a good person. But that's always been beyond me, letting go of those kind of people. And Cindy's done it."
She paused. "You aren't going to go after any of them, are you? My wife, or Cindy, or my daughter, or anyone I mention? I didn't... think you would. But this is between us. Isn't it?"
“Your dog will be fine, Mr Detweiler,” they responded. Worrying about such a thing, considering the circumstances, did nothing to change their opinion of the man. “His excretions should be the least of your troubles.”
"You OBviously have never seen the kinduh mess he can put out!" Charlie protested. "Whole god-damn place'll stink to high hevuhn when that dawg le's loose! Shit."
There is a pause, and a gentle clicking sound fills the room. The doctors seem to freeze, contemplating, until the noise ceases a few moments later.
“Congratulations,” the duo squawk, “Your answer is correct.”
Correct? The question sprouted inside the head of Charlie Detweiler like a dog cocking its head. How could such an answer be "correct"? What was this anyway? Some kind of test?
"Cor-rect. Hmph," Charlie grunted.
He did not miss the slide show of paint sliding up the walks like liquid legions of black slugs, but another slow stupid grin spread across his face as he realized he could now move his hands and feet. He amused himself by giving the two doctors the finger -- one for each of them.
"Heh, heh, heh."
“A second question must be answered,” Dire says, followed by Esqu,
“Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
"Muh maw. She dun razed us seven kids on 'er own, ri' after muh paw left. I wuz the third. Three's muh lucky number, ya know. Enny wuhmon who could've tolerated all us boys and raised us up proper-like, like maw did duhzerves a medal." A tear came to Charlie's eyes. "She dun died o' throwt cancer 'bout foh years ago. She could hit the spittoon bedder dan enny man dis side uh Tulsa Lake Hills Traylor Park Re-zort."
"Damn uh miss her..." Charlie sniffed, unable to wipe the few tears trickling from his eyes. "Uh miss'er so bad." He broke down and started sobbing, snot leaking out of large nose.
"Can uh have uh..." *sniff sniff* "uh Kleenex pleaze?" *sniff*
“Unfortunately…you can’t, Mr Welsh.”
He titled his head and looked at them as a smirk slowly appeared upon his face as he nodded softly before licking his dry lips without answering back.
Fools
A long moment of silence passed before they spoke again:“Congratulations,” the duo squawk, “Your answer is correct.”
The smile disappeared as his eyes turned to a blank stare that one could conclude from that Nathaniel was unsure of what he had just heard. He never thought there would come a day where he would hear that from line anyone and here now they announced it so casually as if it was a given. But they way they said it was also hinting that his life was truly depending upon their words.
He smirked again.
His life given to be judges by fools. It wasn't going to be the first time...
“A second question must be answered,” Dire says, followed by Esqu,
“Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
He lowered his head before he arched himself against the chair, taking a deep breath and considering his answer.
Images formed into his mind. He was wearing orange as he was led into the room, his hands and legs bound with handcuffs and he had trouble walking, much less resisting the man that walked him into the court, chained like a wild dangerous beast.
The lack of movement, however, did not bother him from seeing the woman that sat over the benches not far from him, but she seemed to have trouble looking at him directly, even when he kept seeing her stealing quick glances at him.
He smiled at her, and she just frowned, narrowing her eyebrows together and twisting her beautiful lips. Once she fully turned her head away from him he could see a purple heavy mark under her eyes, as if she was beaten really hard.
He called for her, but something felt wrong.
Blood poured slowly from her shirt and she gasped and coughed.
A second later he found himself in a forest, her body cold and dead gazing up at him from the ground before he lifted up the hoe to cover her blaming terrible expression with dirt and mud forever.
A second later he was at the court again, the judge calling everyone to order, someone threw something at his face and he looked back at where the woman was sitting not so long ago to find elderly looking couple, crying, the male comforting his sobbing wife while giving him the same stern, disappointed, angry stare that the woman gave him not long before.
"I can't admire her anymore", he said slowly as he awoke from his illusions yet keeping his face straight at the two masked figures, "She's dead".
Snotgirl
02-17-2012, 10:42 PM
“Congratulations,” the duo squawk, “Your answer is correct.”
What was correct? There were right answers to this? Jeez, if he would have known that, he would’ve lied through his teeth. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. By the sound of their voices, these people weren’t fucking around. Although Gregory still found it a bit strange that he couldn’t panic. Those must be some really good drugs Gregory thought with a grin.
“A second question must be answered,” Dire says, followed by Esqu,
“Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
“The one I admire most?”
Gregory thought for a bit. And thought some more.
“I would say me! Because I’m awesome and shit. Mostly because I get awesome grades and whatnot. Nah I’m just fuckin’ with ya. Give me a moment though.”
Gregory thought about his older sister and his dad. His mom was totally out of the question. He always admired his sister. She totally lived a free life while he on the other hand…
“Well, let me explain a bit. See, my parents love my older sister, Rachel, but they hate the fact she never listens to them. In a way, she was the problem child out of the both of us. Hell, she just up and left when she was finished with highschool, and we didn’t hear from her from a while. So yeah, I admire my big sister, simply because she isn’t tied down by expectations. She lives how she wants, while I have to listen to my parents, mostly my dad.”
Wattz
02-19-2012, 11:06 AM
“Congratulations. Your answer is correct.”
A small twitch at Adam’s mouth, as if the smile were on the verge of fading. The breath in his chest became a little more constricted, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Correct…?
“A second question must be answered. Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why.”
Only then did his smile give out, turn down at the corners, teeth exposed as his mouth hung open ever slightly. He’d always hated that question, since he’d never quite known it, but now he felt compelled, driven, to vomit the words out. But knowing that there was a potential… correctness to his answer… his fingers began to tremble.
“Marinetti. F. T. Marinetti. I remember reading about him a long time ago in school. Sometimes I go back and re-read his manifestos, thinking… yeah… Marinetti’s got all the right answers, I just know it. Want of speed, of progression, of aggression. To think, we’re wasting our lives on domestic romance and a desk job, when we could be hurling ourselves forward into the wall. What was it that he said? ‘Time and Space died yesterday’…” He paused, trying to remember the next line, “…’We already live in the… absolute, because we have…’ Ah… I can never remember the next part, anyways.”
Sickly
02-22-2012, 10:35 PM
Victoria bit back her tears, she wished she had caught herself before the truth came out but whatever drugs they pumped her with betrayed her. Not that they were even on her side to begin with. She closed her eye's and drew herself in. The sadness welled up in her heart but she had to force it back down.
She found it.
Rage.
But she pushed that back down as well yet stole just a piece to use for a reasonable defense.
Annoyance.
"A second question must be answered. Tell us the person you admire most. Tell us the reason why."
It took less then half a second for Victoria to answer.
"Myself, for putting up with this inane interrogation."
The drugs resisted but her response was true, well at least...mostly true. Her eye's flared in defiance. She searched the depths of their hidden eye's digging, clawing, pushing through the darkness. She wanted to see their eye's, their pupils. Victoria wanted to take hold of whatever human aspect they had and ground herself to it. The question was "were they even human to begin with?" Victoria pushed the thought away. Silly, perhaps....
"I want to see your eye's."
Beth couldn't help feeling that she might be a little annoyed if it weren't for whatever Esquire had given her. If there was nothing important about her life, then why put her through all this? It all seemed kind of pointless and every answer they gave her only raised more questions.
She stared blankly as Esquire asked their next question. The time it took her to formulate an answer was extremely short compared to the previous question. One might have guessed she said the first person to pop into her head.
“John,” it was a name, and one which would be quite meaning less to Esquire. “He's a friend of mine on this forum I go to online,” Beth wondered if perhaps she should explain what a “forum” and “online” were. After all, given that water didn't exist where ever they were, she was one hundred percent certain that they weren't on Earth anymore - 33.7% that she was in another dimension - so they might not be familiar with either of these terms. Silently, she thanked god for whatever Esquire had given her as the thought of not being on Earth should have scared the hell out of her.
“He's a really nice guy,” Beth smirked. “And it's funny to say that as I've never really met him in real life. But he's always treated me as an equal despite being much older than me. I always found because I'm younger, the so called adults always looked down their noses at me. John's never been one to condescend to me.” Beth paused for a moment before continuing on.
“He's also incredibly modest,” the look in Beth's eyes seemed to be that of a person who reminiscing about something. “I look up to him as a writer, and he is always saying how much better I am than him at it. And when I ask him for criticism, he's honest about it. He doesn't try to dance around the issue to spare my feelings." Beth stopped talking and silently wished she could get a glass of water. There was more she could have said about John, but she had questions of her own.
“So,” Auki glanced about the room. “If water doesn't exist here, would you mind telling me where I am?”
Client One - Nathaniel Welsh;
"I can't admire her anymore… She's dead".
There was an eerie silence to the room as they waited for further explanation, and received nothing.
“We see,” they said with dry voices, but ones that did not judge the man before them. Subjectivity was not in their nature, nor would it benefit them in any way. The death of a single woman was insignificant in their lives; if he did not wish to talk about it, they did not plan to force him.
Client Two - Corinne Anderson;
"I...I admire my best friend. Her name's Cindy. We've been friends since graduate school. She wanted to go into adolescent psychology. I wanted to go into child psychology. Her little sister was very sick - anorexic - and she wanted to help other teenagers with that."
“I don't know that I admire her most - though I guess I must - we are still friends, after all this time, but I do admire her. Anyway."
"When Cindy was twenty-nine, she started a relationship with a guy. I didn't know very much about him, I was busy developing my relationship with the other members of my practice at the time, and we were a bit distant, but we made sure to talk at least once a month. I thought she seemed a little off, but didn't press it. It turned out, he was emotionally abusive and physically intimidating."
"But that's not why I admire her. I admire her because she's moved on. She's... forgiven him. I can't. I have hated that man, who I only met once or twice, for over twenty years. I can never forgive the parents of the children who come into my practice and I find out they're abusing their kids. She's strong, you know."
"I admire her for her ability to forgive. I think of myself as generally a good person. But that's always been beyond me, letting go of those kind of people. And Cindy's done it."
"You aren't going to go after any of them, are you? My wife, or Cindy, or my daughter, or anyone I mention? I didn't... think you would. But this is between us. Isn't it?"
“We are confidants, Ms Anderson. You do not need to worry with what you tell us,” Dire replied.
“Besides, we do not care enough to get involved.”
[Deceased] Client Three - Beth Dent;
“He's a really nice guy. And it's funny to say that as I've never really met him in real life. But he's always treated me as an equal despite being much older than me. I always found because I'm younger, the so-called adults always looked down their noses at me. John's never been one to condescend to me.”
“He's also incredibly modest. I look up to him as a writer, and he is always saying how much better I am than him at it. And when I ask him for criticism, he's honest about it. He doesn't try to dance around the issue to spare my feelings."
“So, if water doesn't exist here, would you mind telling me where I am?”
“I’m afraid you won’t need to know the answer, Miss Dent,” they replied, “You will feel tired, but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, like smoke in colour, but without scent. It burned at the eyes and itched at the skin, but only for moments before the girl fell limp in her chair.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Four - Justin Crane;
"Catherine is her name, she's in her sixties, she lives alone, has never been married, doesn't have any children. I've seen her smile once, her teeth were yellow."
"Forty years ago she arrived in town, long before I was born. Immediately she took up work at the general store. She's still there."
"A monotonous routine, day after day. Repeating over most of her life. Doing the same thing... whenever I see her, it's a wonderful image."
"I can't do that. Variety and change I require, so I admire Catherine for that."
It was a mundane tale about a woman simply surviving in the harshness of the world. Admirable wasn’t what they would call it, and yet it was the perfect word to discuss her case.
Client Five - Jane Evans;
"I don't admire anyone. Not directly. I know that's not what you're looking for, but that's all I got. Admiring just one person will lead to a crushing blow if they do something so outrageous that they lose your full admiration. I've seen that happen to many people. I don't want to be one of them."
"I admire anyone who thrives to achieve a better life for themselves. Those that grab the little strand of hope, and climb to the top, past all their problems, the obstacles that can either make or break you. Those people deserve to be truly admired. Life's not easy, and if they can overcome the worst obstacles in their life to achieve the best possible thing for them, then why not admire them?"
"I don't expect you to accept that answer, but it is true."
“Any answer is acceptable,” Esqu replied.
“We have no doubts that it is the truth,” followed Dire.
"Thank you for giving me the ability to tell the truth. You don't know how hard it is to tell the truth in my life. One wrong word, and people get their panties up in a bunch. It's stupid. I shouldn't have to kiss ass to get anywhere in life, but that's how the world goes round."
“We are glad you are enjoying the restriction, Ms Evans,” they said.
It was rare that anyone appreciated having to face their own honesty, unsurprising how far people relied on deceit to keep themselves content with their actions.
[Deceased] Client Seven - Suzy Peterson;
“Umm…well if I gotta pick one person it’d have to be Bethany. Well for one thing she’s really really smart…”
“She’s always pushing me to do stuff better. She never says anything’s impossible but she always wants me to improve, She’s also really calm and nice and makes me think things through when I’m angry or sad. Grant’s my best friend and I love him! But I wanna be just like Bethany when I grow up!”
Her answer was sweet, touching.
A shame it was her last.
“You will feel tired,” they said together, “but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, filling the room with a greyish haze. It burned at the eyes and itched at the skin, but it was only moments that the girl was forced to deal with it.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Eight - Izzy StarChewer;
"Ya think you be foolin' me Bobby? Tryin' to make me admit again how you're the fucking brains behind the band? Writin' all them songs an' lettin' me flash em' like my own... Ya big fish you. Christ, what'cha fucking put in my shit Bobs?"
“Try to retain some composure, Mr StarChewer,” they drawled, “This isn’t a human’s trick.”
They had to extract an answer from his babbling, which was an annoyance in itself. The man didn’t seem capable of focusing his mind for any portion of their conversation. It could only be hoped that he would improve as the drugs wore off and his normal self returned.
[Deceased] Client Ten – Jazmine Farahani;
The head of the client dropped to her chest, succumbing to the drugs she had been given. It was a shame, but the interrogation became futile in the state she was in. With a sigh, Esqu and Dire were sprung into action.
With careful hands, they lifted the limp body and removed it from the seat. It lolled and weighed down, but they had enough experience to counter both inconveniences.
“You will need to come with us,” they murmured, and the room seemed to fade around them. All that remained was darkness.
Client Twelve - Adam Baker;
“Marinetti. F. T. Marinetti. I remember reading about him a long time ago in school. Sometimes I go back and re-read his manifestos, thinking… yeah… Marinetti’s got all the right answers, I just know it. Want of speed, of progression, of aggression. To think, we’re wasting our lives on domestic romance and a desk job, when we could be hurling ourselves forward into the wall. What was it that he said? ‘Time and Space died yesterday…We already live in the… absolute, because we have…’ Ah… I can never remember the next part, anyways.”
“That’s okay, Mr Baker,” they spoke. “Your answer was sufficient.”
The man had been an oddity throughout the trials, and did not disappoint with his recent answer. If they had cared, they may have been intrigued.
Client Thirteen - Dame Victoria;
"Myself, for putting up with this inane interrogation."
An interesting answer, but not one they hadn’t heard before.
"I want to see your eyes."
“I’m afraid these masks must say on during all interrogations,” Dire answered, “We apologise if they bring you any discomfort.”
Client Fourteen - Gregory Springer;
“Well, let me explain a bit. See, my parents love my older sister, Rachel, but they hate the fact she never listens to them. In a way, she was the problem child out of the both of us. Hell, she just up and left when she was finished with high school, and we didn’t hear from her from a while. So yeah, I admire my big sister, simply because she isn’t tied down by expectations. She lives how she wants, while I have to listen to my parents, mostly my dad.”
A tale fitting for his age, so… simplistic compared to that of the others.
“Thank you for your answer,” the duo said, their gratitude honest. When speech became straight to the point, the job was far less tedious for them.
[Deceased] Client Fifteen - Charlie Detweiler;
"Muh maw. She dun razed us seven kids on 'er own, ri' after muh paw left. I wuz the third. Three's muh lucky number, ya know. Enny wuhmon who could've tolerated all us boys and raised us up proper-like, like maw did duhzerves a medal." A tear came to Charlie's eyes. "She dun died o' throwt cancer 'bout foh years ago. She could hit the spittoon bedder dan enny man dis side uh Tulsa Lake Hills Traylor Park Re-zort."
"Damn uh miss her... Uh miss'er so bad." "Can uh have uh... uh Kleenex pleaze?"
“That won’t be necessary, Mr Detweiler,” they said, their tone almost kind, “You will feel tired, but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, a grey tint to the air, barely noticeable. It burned at the eyes and itched at the skin, but only for moments before death made its mark.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
---
All Remaining Clients;
Silence. Waiting.
Tick… Tick... Tick…
“Also correct.” They say, nodding in unison to emphasise their point.
The walls move again, more ferocious than before, the white-wash paint becoming a mere outline for the darker strokes. They are hounds – They snap across the wall with thirsting fangs, bulging in a way that surpasses the confinements of two-dimensions. Milky eyes stare at you; they know the secrets that you hide from the world, and they yearn for them.
Emotions – true emotions, fear and anger – begin to return, yet only slowly.
“Yet another question…”
“…For your life.”
Dire and Esqu conflict with your mindset, an embodiment of neutrality.
“If you saw a child, a stranger, bruised and crying on the streets, how would you respond?”
Compulsive that you tell the absolute truth, an irritation to a person’s sanity.
Wall paint changed shape after his answer, shifting into the images of hounds. Eyes glared back at him from their walls. But, Justin dealt with Dogs before. Thoughts of the past flashed in his head, angrily he shoved them aside to focus on the pair.
“Yet another question…”
“…For your life.”
Justin smiled.
“If you saw a child, bruised and crying on the streets, how would you respond?”
Justin didn't need to bother thinking of the reply, it was on his tongue before the question had been completed. He didn't hesitate to reply, merely paused to find any conflict within himself. There was none.
"I would not do anything to help them at all. Their injury would not be anything of my concern. I would walk on by them without a thought to their situation. Their existence would mean nothing to me. Or perhaps I should say...."
"What child?"
“We are confidants, Ms Anderson. You do not need to worry with what you tell us. Besides, we do not care enough to get involved.”
Ah.
Silence, thick and interminable, clogged up the surrounding air. Esqu and Dire simply stood there, Corinne sitting. The remnants of her words littered the ground like leaves.
Tick... Tick... Tick...
Like an unheard clock had struck, they responded.
“Also correct.”
The paint on the walls again shuddered, sliding away, the shapes it left behind somehow... Horrible. A mess, a form staring her, hunting her down, but Corinne couldn't quite identify it, name how those walls moved. The paint, black eating the white, near cancerous. She felt ill.
“Yet another question…” they added. “…For your life.”
How final. Anxiety twisted Corinne's gut, a fear she hadn't before suffered. Her fingers trembled.
“If you saw a child, a stranger, bruised and crying on the streets, how would you respond?”
A child, alone on the street? What if that was her child? Her daughter? Corinne almost laughed in relief at the ease of the question. She wouldn't die. Who wouldn't help a child.
"I-" she choked. Mouth open, gaping like a fish on land. The woman panted, a few quick breaths, fear lancing in. Was she having a heart attack? Was she dying?
The moment passed. She waited a few more breaths, to see if it would come again, but the tightness from her chest up through her throat, sealing her mouth, paralyzing her every pore, had passed.
"I-" Corinne tried again, but could not pass that first word. It filled her mouth like a gag, blocking the ones that wanted to come after. Choking her.
"I think I'm having a heart attack!" she gasped to the twins, barely able to breathe. Hoping they would do something. Hoping they could see her.
I think I'm lying.
She did not want that voice, that idea, rising from her subconscious. Corinne did not want to know what she knew. And yet, she sensed she could not refuse to answer. This was all she could do, all choice - removed. She could not pretend the truth was anything other than it was. Maybe, maybe this could be a kind of absolution. Confidants. Like a confessional.
"I would walk by," Corinne barely more than whispered. Her chin hung, almost touching her chest. She could not look at them. "If someone else was helping, I would too" - as if that improved it. "But otherwise... I'd just walk by. Just... leave."
Then there was silence. She waited for them to say something else, something that would distract her from her swirling thoughts.
“Also correct.”
Hounds seemingly thrust from the walls, snapping their maws. She couldn't tell if they were real or not, but her eyes swam with the possibilities of being torn to shreds by the beasts. She had always had a fear of dogs, ever since one lunged at her throat as a child. It didn't bite, but she was still terrified of them nonetheless. Her chest tightened, the onset of her panic, but it was much, much lighter than it would be otherwise.
“Yet another question…”
“…For your life.”
“If you saw a child, a stranger, bruised and crying on the streets, how would you respond?”
Why? Why on Earth would they ask a question like that? She had seen questions very similar on so many personality tests that she didn't believe the question to have much relevance. She sighed, keeping her gaze to the ground. Her head was hurting from the changing walls.
"I would walk away. Why should I have to be the hero when I can't even be a hero in my own life?" She weakly shook her head. "It's not like there is that many good people left in the world - I know I'm not one of them, and I don't try to be."
She looked up at the two masked creatures, and tilted her head. "What would you do in that situation? Would you walk away, too?"
She knew there wouldn't be an answer. If there was, she would be thoroughly surprised. She doubted they had human emotions, even though they mastered English. When she bothered to talk to people, she felt that repeating the question someone else asked would be beneficial to an extent. It didn't hurt to try. Maybe she could make things a little easier on herself in the process.
Anger.
Terrible wrath...
Where was all this bitterness coming from?!
His hands fasten as he tried to raise them, feeling that some kind of unseen forces were binding him still, his veins and muscles so visible now and so urging under his skin, that whoever looked from the side could think that his arms were about to rip off from the pressure.
He gritted his teeth as he started to feel more aware....
The pain...
It aches...
It aches and it fucking hurt like hell...
And it started to eat at him as this new reality was forced into his mind, and it was so hard to adjust to... But it didn't stop there... He just became more and more aware to the fact that he was alive, breathing... and...
And...
CAGED!!!!
He looked up with piercing angry eyes at the pair, barely capable of restoring his inner peace.
And the rage continued to raise so fast up to the surface of his mind that he didn't know how to handle it; He didn't know how to stop himself from losing his mind to his own emotions and needs....
He felt the raising level of heat and knew he started to sweat when he felt watery lines trailing down his nape.
He now started to bite his own lips.
He wanted to get the fuck out of there.
And then a strong light hit him which took him by a surprise as he looked away and groaned.
He was outside. He was walking.
Looking around he saw the familiar neighborhood...
He gasped.
Eyes were looking at him.
He tried to fight the thought off his mind, but couldn't.
He groaned again as he throw his head backward.
The eyes continued to follow him. The kid was bleeding....
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR", he yelled as he tried to free himself from the chair he was sitting upon.
Another flash of light and he was back into the memory. It was night, the street was empty... Like it should have been... who in his right mind would walk outside at this hour?...
But the little kid was there... and he looked at him.... begging...
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!", he cried, "STOP IT!!!!!!!!!".
The kid watched him getting away, his gaze not leaving his back as Nathaniel was advancing further and further away. He heard him sobbing, but the child did not even once called him back, or tried to stop him...
Looking down at his hands Nathaniel realized they were bleeding....
He gasped.
Back to reality he was, back inside this void, back inside with those twisted people.
He breathed heavily before he completely calmed down... but it took him such a long while to regain his senses and being aware to this fact made him chuckle. He grunted as he smiled before laughing bitterly.
He drop his head and his hair was tossed over his face as his chin touched over the collar of his shirt.
He continued to breath huskily, unpleased with himself...
"I left him there...", he said slowly before he started to chuckle, "I just... left him there..."
Wattz
02-25-2012, 12:24 AM
”Also correct.”
He cried out loud as the walls warped, the hounds so real they seemed as if they’d fall right into existence. His skin drew bumps as it damped quickly with sweat.
“Yet another question…”
“…For your life.”
“Please… please… I don’t wanna die!” Adam was whimpering by now, an abrupt change from his previously languid state.
But they ignored his pathetic pleas, delivering the next one. A child on the streets… bruised…. The answer was torn from him violently.
“I- I-‘d stop. I’d stop, I’d ask what was wrong, maybe buy her some ice cream and lie, tell her everything’s going to get better, even though it probably won’t. I wouldn’t walk her home, though, no. That’s always where it starts, that’s always where it starts. Maybe I’d even pray for her to get lost, run away, never go back. B- bu-but please! Please....”
He wanted to beg more, wanted to beg for his life. Tears ran down his cheeks as he never expected them to. The rush of emotion was so abrupt. His chest swelled with it, the danger. Somehow, someway, this was no dream....
Housemaster
03-01-2012, 03:58 AM
“Try to retain some composure, Mr StarChewer,” they drawled, “This isn’t a human’s trick.”
Izzy snorted in his laughter, his face a slobbering mess with no way to clean himself.
"Ain't no human's trick eh? I gotit! You buncha nuggets are fuckin' aliens!" he placed emphasis on the 'fucking' and 'aliens', he really could not piece together what exactly was going on...
“Also correct.” They say, nodding in unison to emphasise their point.
Now, this statement was more or less directed at Izzy's first answer about 'who he respected the most', but Mr. StarChewer was under the impression that this now meant he was now talking to aliens.
"Faaackin' Eh!" he shouted with his new 'false' discovery, leaving it as ambiguous as possible.
“Yet another question…”
“…For your life.”
Dire and Esqu conflict with your mindset, an embodiment of neutrality.
“If you saw a child, a stranger, bruised and crying on the streets, how would you respond?”
The rockn'rolla leaned his head back in deep thought. 'Deep thought' meaning the best kind of thought he could manage at this time.
"I'd fackin' find the motha'fuck that put the bruisin' on that child! Ain't no right being done to hurt a child ya know? Me uncle was a flammin' pedophile..." he leaned forward, "He enjoyed the company of young lads if ya know what I'm sayin'... Tried to 'ave a go at me one day, but I stuck 'em with a worked pencil, I did!" In the mist of telling his story Izzy wobbled off balance and fell to the floor, his face smacking the floor with a wet sounding spat. Again, he found his current state amusing as he giggled like a psychotic loon.
As he lay helplessly on the floor, his brain was still processing the doctors' question instead of normally displaying his disapproval for being a lifeless lump (most likely because he thinks its is own damn fault). With the limited movement he had, he rolled on his back, answering both Dire and Esqu.
"I'd give the kid a coupla pounds to buy some clothes, perhaps a bit of food or some sweeties... but a kid gotta find their own way! You'll never find my hand puttin' a bruisin on no kid, but I won't be settin no path for the child neither! It's for them to find that on their lonesome!" He then turned his attention to the doctors, "What the 'ell are you blokes gettin' outta this? Does askin' odd questions get you off?"
Sickly
03-02-2012, 01:16 AM
"Of course I would help the child. I may seem a bit rough around the edges but that's only because I've been kidnapped, drugged, and interrogated for an undetermined amount of time. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I'm tired. I am an old women with regrets, with pride, with honor. I hold a position of authority and respect above my peers. Yet none of that matters because what I've been asked is a series of questions that help you understand my character just a little bit better. For ulterior schemes or just your sick fetish, I don't know. Yes I would help that child, I would comfort him or her. I would do my very best to give that child a safe place. Is that what you want to hear? No? Yes? Perhaps you wanted me to say that I would abandon them there to cry. Or how about not even noticing the child to begin with. Would that satisfy you? You don't need to pump me full of drugs for me to stay vulnerable, for me to speak the truth. I because I already know what's really going on here. You may or may not be biologically human but there is a sentient mind in there and its broken. Knowing that make me fearful, but its not nearly enough to cripple me. There is no reason for creatures such as yourselves to hide behind shadows. No, I don't need to see your eyes. At this point I simply do not care whether I live or die."
Dame Victoria finally took a breath and finished.
"Do your worst. Death is something I should have expected the moment I awoke. I am a foolish old woman for not realizing this sooner"
Snotgirl
03-02-2012, 09:48 PM
“Also correct.” They say, nodding in unison to emphasise their point.
“I aim to please.” Gregory said, sticking out his tongue playfully. He loved to quote movies.
“Yet another question…”
“…For your life.”
For some reason Gregory felt something growing in his chest. And it wasn’t relief or happiness.
“Uhh yeah…” Gregory frowned a bit.
“If you saw a child, a stranger, bruised and crying on the streets, how would you respond?”
Gregory was starting to question why these queries had any point at all. You know, other than for his
life.
“Honestly? I think I would try and comfort the kid. But I don’t think I would spend an entire day
figuring out what was wrong.”
Gregory hated himself for such an honest answer. Not everyone had the heart of Mother Theresa.
“Maybe a call to the police? I supposed it’s a logical choice. Kid crying with bruises and all.”
Now Gregory recognized the feeling that was growing in his chest.
It was panic.
Client One - Nathaniel Welsh;
"I left him there... I just... left him there..."
The man laughed, but not with mirth. His answer, although vague, was all they really needed.
[Deceased] Client Two - Corinne Anderson;
The girl stuttered over her reply, almost choking as she tried to force the words out.
"I think I'm having a heart attack!"
Esqu and Dire remained silent, waiting.
"I would walk by… If someone else was helping, I would too. But otherwise... I'd just walk by. Just... leave."
“Thank you, Ms Anderson.”
It was a disappointment; she had almost been interesting to question.
“You will feel tired,” they continued, “but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, black, seeming to billow from no particular source as it flooded her sight. As it touched the skin, it seared the senses. Pain, overwhelming.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Four – Justin Crane:
"I would not do anything to help them at all. Their injury would not be anything of my concern. I would walk on by them without a thought to their situation. Their existence would mean nothing to me. Or perhaps I should say...."
"What child?"
“Ignorance is bliss…”
“…Isn’t that what they say where you come from?”
The duo commented, before brushing all interest aside. The man was smiling as he spoke, an inappropriate display of emotion if any human were to judge him then.
Client Five - Jane Evans;
"I would walk away. Why should I have to be the hero when I can't even be a hero in my own life? It's not like there is that many good people left in the world - I know I'm not one of them, and I don't try to be."
"What would you do in that situation? Would you walk away, too?"
They pondered. It was an odd question.
“There are a hundred ways to respond…”
“…None of which we could take.” They answered in alternating voices.
[Deceased] Client Eight - Izzy StarChewer;
"I'd give the kid a coupla pounds to buy some clothes, perhaps a bit of food or some sweeties... but a kid gotta find their own way! You'll never find my hand puttin' a bruisin on no kid, but I won't be settin no path for the child neither! It's for them to find that on their lonesome! What the 'ell are you blokes gettin' outta this? Does askin' odd questions get you off?"
“We find no more pleasure in this than you, Mr Starchewer…”
“Despite your beliefs…”
They grew swiftly irritated of the way he spoke, but their judgement was not based on that.
“You will feel tired,” they continued, “but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, smog that clouded the vision of the man. As it spread over him, it burned with unbridled fury, swallowing him in agony.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
Client Twelve - Adam Baker;
“Please… please… I don’t wanna die!”
“I- I-‘d stop. I’d stop, I’d ask what was wrong, maybe buy her some ice cream and lie, tell her everything’s going to get better, even though it probably won’t. I wouldn’t walk her home, though, no. That’s always where it starts, that’s always where it starts. Maybe I’d even pray for her to get lost, run away, never go back. B- bu-but please! Please....”
“You do not need to panic, Mr Baker,” they replied, “We are not here to cause you harm.”
[Deceased] Client Thirteen - Dame Victoria;
"Of course I would help the child. I may seem a bit rough around the edges but that's only because I've been kidnapped, drugged, and interrogated for an undetermined amount of time…”
They weren’t allowed to stop her talking as much as they wished they could. If her words were focused solely on the question, it wouldn’t have been so frivolous a speech.
"Do your worst. Death is something I should have expected the moment I awoke. I am a foolish old woman for not realising this sooner."
“If you like…” they muttered, “You will feel tired, but do not fear sleep.”
A gas leaked into the room, black, opaque. It curled around the arms of the woman and rent pain across her mind, sizzling at the flesh with every moment of contact.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
[Deceased] Client Fourteen - Gregory Springer;
“Honestly? I think I would try and comfort the kid. But I don’t think I would spend an entire day figuring out what was wrong.”
“Maybe a call to the police? I supposed it’s a logical choice. Kid crying with bruises and all.”
“Logical, indeed.” Esqu replied.
“You will feel tired but do not fear sleep.” Dire followed.
A gas leaked into the room, a smoky tarnish to the air. It burned at the skin, turning each raised hair to ash as it wove its way through the environment. The doctor duo remained unaffected.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
All Remaining Clients:
Tick… Tick... Tick…
The waiting comes again as their words are mulled over.
“Correct, once more.”
Their masks begin to warp, their beaks twisting into the whispers of a smile. Their voices seem almost… happy.
The walls are bulging more now; the snouts and forelimbs of the massive canines protrude into the room, their jaws lined with bloodstained fangs.
The doctors ignore them. Your emotions return in greater strength.
…Once more, they speak.
“You are trapped in a room with a small child. There is a loaded gun in your hands, yet no means of escape or trickery. If you kill the child or yourself, the survivor walks free. If you refuse to commit the crime, you are set free yet a hundred innocent strangers are killed in your place. How do you react?”
Wattz
03-03-2012, 08:25 PM
Adam sunk back further into his chair. Sweat soaked the front of his shirt, sticking to his skin. Little bumps lined his arms as he shivered so violently the chair shook with him. He closed his eyes and rested his head upon his chest to escape the gaze of the twisted masks—
“You are trapped in a room with a small child. There is a loaded gun in your hands, yet no means of escape or trickery. If you kill the child or yourself, the survivor walks free. If you refuse to commit the crime, you are set free yet a hundred innocent strangers are killed in your place. How do you react?”
Another child… a stranger… one hundred others… his own life….
Did he really want to die?
His voice cracked. “No… no no no no, I wouldn’t do anything. Their faces… I wouldn’t be able to kill them, but I don’t want to…. It’s only a hundred, right? I can’t even see them! How would I even know if they were real? Yes! Yes, that’s it, I’d walk, the hundred, the hundred aren’t real, I’d tell myself, they’re not real it doesn’t even matter if I walk, it’s all just a trick, a stupid little dream! I can't see them, it doesn't matter!”
Adam had throw his head back now, shaking it from side to side as his eyes opened inhumanely wide.
They seemed happy, there was a hound trying to pull itself into the room, the questions had removed some of his shackles ..... all was good. Oh, and those dogs had some nice blood on their fangs -excellent.
"A Hundred strangers.... or a known child..." Justin repeated to himself. "Or myself." He added that last part more as a joke.
Clashing ideas and answers crossed the man's mind, but most of them were wrong and simply trying to justify.
"A hundred strangers, people I've never met, I'd like for them to die. But, who are they? They should die. But, how can I cause them their death if they don't know me?"
"No, I'd sit down have a nice little chat, 'Hey there, I'm Justin Crane, what's your name?' - perhaps ask them about their life, their family. Maybe talk about myself, about what I've done ... and then...."
".... And then shoot the brat."
Another correct answer. How was it correct? She felt like a horrible person just answering that question. She hated it, the truth, the anger, the shame, the regret swelling up in her chest, making her want to vomit. She couldn't, though. She couldn't let the beaked things see any more weakness than they already had.
Jane tried to focus on the warped and blurry face of the two beaked figures. She couldn't focus her eyes, not without seeing the blood dripping from the fangs of hounds. Hounds that protruded through the walls in some forsaken manner. Was it all an illusion? Side effects from the medicine? Her temples pulsed as her headache worsened.
"What was the question?"
Then she remembered.
“You are trapped in a room with a small child. There is a loaded gun in your hands, yet no means of escape or trickery. If you kill the child or yourself, the survivor walks free. If you refuse to commit the crime, you are set free yet a hundred innocent strangers are killed in your place. How do you react?”
Her jaw fell slack. That question, she was sure she had heard it from some movie she could not name. What was with their fixation on children? How could she ever kill a child? Tears brimmed her eyes, threatening to trickle down her cheeks.
"I could never," she stammered, "I couldn't hurt a kid. I don't want to die either, but..."
She shook her head, "Could you look at the face of a child as you pulled the trigger to end its life? I couldn't. Why would I? It doesn't make sense. Someone has to be heartless to put someone in that situation. It's not right. I know, hundred lives compared to mine or a child's is a big deal, but what if you all decided to kill one-hundred other kids? What good would that do?"
She shook her head again, and groaned. "I would kill myself before I'd kill a child. At least they would have a better chance of living."
By this time, he was sweating hard.
Too much...
It was TOO FUCKING MUCH
He was slowly losing it...
Losing whatever that was left out of his sanity...
He started to chuckle.
And he slowly glared up at them with deep blue eyes that grew big at the sight of their awkward transformation.
NO
It couldn't have been so...
But it was so.
The fuckers were laughing... they laugh at HIM... How dare they make fun of him?!...
Coughing and breathing hard after a long moment of laughter he let his head drop at the sound of the next question.
"Maybe I'll just shoot the bastard....", he chuckled, "You know...", he looked up at them but was shivering and didn't look as intimidating as he was hoping to be, "Better him... and not me...".
He grinned, "Was this what you were hoping to hear?... Was this what you were hoping for me to say?! Well fuck yeah!!! I'll shoot the kid...", he then swallowed hard, "Or... will I?"
For the first time he was unsure, unsteady, sick and terribly shaken. The images of the kid from the previous question flashed before his eyes but he didn't budge no matter how painful was the memory...
"Twisted little sick psycho, aren't I?", he said as his lips formed into a horrible smile, which has almost resembled theirs, "I'll just lift it up, stick it up and *bomb!* off with his little tiny head...", he stopped laughing all at once, "I wouldn't care what was going to happen to other people... give me the time... corner me long enough to lose it... and I'll do it...".
[Deceased] Client One - Nathaniel Welsh;
"Maybe I'll just shoot the bastard… You know… Better him... and not me..."
"Was this what you were hoping to hear?... Was this what you were hoping for me to say?! Well fuck yeah! I'll shoot the kid... Or... will I?"
"Twisted little sick psycho, aren't I? I'll just lift it up, stick it up and *bomb!* off with his little tiny head... I wouldn't care what was going to happen to other people... give me the time... corner me long enough to lose it... and I'll do it..."
His moods swung about in a dangerous manner.
Esqu and Dire observed his display dispassionately, pausing only slightly before they said,
“Do not fear sleep.”
The hounds clawed at the floor with inch-long claws, dragging themselves free from the confinements of the paint. Their jaws bit at the air, their nostrils twitching; they had been waiting for their moment of liberation.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
It was not long before the dogs were there in the room, sprinting towards the man with frenzied eyes. Their jaws clamped around his limbs.
Death could not come quickly enough.
Client Four – Justin Crane:
"A hundred strangers, people I've never met, I'd like for them to die. But, who are they? They should die. But, how can I cause them their death if they don't know me?"
"No, I'd sit down have a nice little chat, ‘Hey there, I'm Justin Crane, what's your name?' - perhaps ask them about their life, their family. Maybe talk about myself, about what I've done ... and then...."
".... And then shoot the brat."
“Wasting time before a rather simplistic decision,” they commented, but said nothing more. Time was growing short.
[Deceased] Client Five - Jane Evans;
"Could you look at the face of a child as you pulled the trigger to end its life? I couldn't. Why would I? It doesn't make sense. Someone has to be heartless to put someone in that situation. It's not right. I know, hundred lives compared to mine or a child's is a big deal, but what if you all decided to kill one-hundred other kids? What good would that do?"
"I would kill myself before I'd kill a child. At least they would have a better chance of living."
She rationalised the decision aloud, and they waited patiently for her final answer.
When it came, they exchanged a glance, hesitant words leaving their mask-hidden mouths.
“Do not fear sleep.”
The hounds twisted more violently, tearing themselves for the wall with lustful howls. Their only desire was flesh.
“Death is only the next step forward.”
The dogs tore free. They lunged for the girl.
Her death was slow, but it was final.
Client Twelve - Adam Baker;
“No… no no no no, I wouldn’t do anything. Their faces… I wouldn’t be able to kill them, but I don’t want to…. It’s only a hundred, right? I can’t even see them! How would I even know if they were real? Yes! Yes, that’s it, I’d walk, the hundred, the hundred aren’t real, I’d tell myself, they’re not real it doesn’t even matter if I walk, it’s all just a trick, a stupid little dream! I can't see them, it doesn't matter!”
“Unfortunately, they are very much real, Mr Baker,” Dire commented to be followed by Esqu,
“But luckily for them, the situation is fantasy.”
Both Remaining Clients:
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Correct.”
A word which holds such little meaning for you in your limited view of the world.
“And this brings us to our final proposition.”
The doctors were not wasting time anymore; they wished for a result, a finale.
“There is another human in a room parallel to your own. They have been going through the same questions that you have.”
The hounds that seemed to protrude from the wall fell limp, still, their duty - unknown to you - finished.
“You can nominate either that person or yourself to die. We will honour your request on one condition; if you both choose to nominate the other, or you both choose to nominate yourself, you will both fail the round.”
‘Failing’ was not the same as ‘dying’ – They placed an emphasis on the difference in wording. Their masks had twisted fully into smirks.
“This is no longer a trial, but a matter of chance. Both of you deserve to succeed in our test, but we give you this final game. Play well.”
This was it, the dogs were dead apparently wasted against the wall. Just him and them two there, they seemingly urgent in their explanations. And Justin was stalling himself knowing what needed to be said. To avoid a lie.
Through out the meeting he been full of confidence, perhaps too much so. Now? His heart raced and he wanted to snap at them. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair his eyes darting between them both.
"Another stranger, or myself." He didn't joke this time.
They grinned at him.
Just another person who wouldn't know him.
"Kill-"
He stopped himself short. Could he justify that? Is the fact they knew he lived enough? Sure, they didn't know his name but they knew of him.
"-Me."
Wattz
03-05-2012, 08:13 AM
Adam’s body relaxed ever slightly as the hounds on the wall withdrew. But the calm wouldn’t last long, not with their disgusting masks twisting even more. He wished he could reach up and rip them off, watching them collide to the floor in millions of pieces—
But yes, some hope. Another person.
“H-HELP!” he screamed, hoping to god the person could hear him. “HELP! OH GOD PLEASE, HELP ME!”
Adam sobbed like a child, his face screwed up into an ugly shadow of what it once was. “Please, oh god I can’t take it anymore….”
Correct. Correct. Correct. Every time the masked men had uttered this, every time, it had chipped away at his brain slowly… slowly… slowly….
“Please,” he spoke again to the mysterious stranger, somewhere on the other side. “Please… save me…. I— I’m not ready to die! Choose him, not me! Choose him!” This last part he spoke to Dire and Esqu. Choose him, not me.
Choose him.
When Kenneth Burke brought forth his first definition of man, he ended with a final point that struck the hidden core of truth; humanity is rotten with the need for perfection. A rock is content to be a rock, the same a tree wants nothing more than what it is. A deer does not wish to gain wings and fly; it accepted its given build without the need for question. Man was the first to express its dissatisfaction with what the gods had granted them. We strive, we yearn, and in our endless labour, we rot.
For lust is never sated and, in its hunger, greed is born. It is this sin that is our curse and it’s what brought forth our enemy eternal.
Death.
Life is the purveyor of success and of defeat, but always does it let us try again. Only when it’s snatched from us do our sins lay down to rest.
We’re granted peace we didn’t know we needed.
One second in time, frozen across the world.
And in that lingering moment, they were dying.
For some, they lay bleeding; a car accident or a bullet’s hole.
For some, disease and drugs clawed at their existence, dragging them slowly towards a bitter end.
For each and every one, the tendrils of the afterlife came forth.
Fifteen people left by fate to rot.
Yet there is kindness, even in those unseen.
“Too many,” Esqu murmured, “They can’t all die.”
“And yet, they can’t all live,” Dire followed in a tone of equal sadness.
Gatekeepers to the world beyond, they pondered, as they did each time.
“They must be tested.” The conclusion came from both their mouths, out of sync a fraction of the second that time was halted upon. The flow of life on Earth was still; it would stay as such until a verdict had been reached.
Justin, Melena, Breeze, Suzy, Charlie, Corinne, Jone, Victoria, Beth, Gregory, Nathaniel, Jane, Jazmine, Adam, Izzy.
A seemingly never-ending list, they were tested.
The greed that haunts our race, so often matured by the cynicism of growing age, that curses us until our dying day. It is the same infliction that comes forth when all we know is tested.
Should there still be hope - should we still retain the innocence of youth and inexperience…or even should the nature of our soul give rise to hesitation, defiance, at the truth - then perhaps we will be granted one more chance; life, a second try.
But should there be nothing left but what it is that makes us human, no resistance towards the darkness of our selves, then cursed are we. Our enemy eternal emerges victorious.
And that was the test that the doctor duo put forth onto the humans, a series of questions to determine who was the most selfish and the least caring about being so.
Adam Baker, he was chosen, so determined to survive that he sealed an opposing fate. They took him forth, past the gates, despite the protests he screamed within their ears. Into the darkness, he was shun, never to lay eyes upon his beloved Earth again.
Jazmine Farahani shared the same misfortune; her soul, upon taking, too fragile to survive its incursion. They offered pity, but little else was there that they could do. The only life that they could give her was one of a saviour. They stole her being and gave her breath within the whitewash walls of the gateway. She became one with the hounds that snapped their way forward, straining to tear forth into the room, desperate to sink their jaws around the victims… so that those people might return to Earth alive.
As for the others, their souls were returned to their bodies; they were given another chance. The memories of the procedure became a haze.
The pure paint across the walls, a burst of white light.
The questions put forth, a blurred recollection of their life.
The faint feeling that there was something more, but no certainty.
The world resumed life for another second.
And in that lingering moment, others began to die.
“Too many,” Esqu muttered again, as he always would, “They can’t all die.”
“And yet, they can’t all live,” Dire followed on cue.
And so, the cycle repeated.
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