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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 20:42:42 GMT -8
Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse You step through the door, which the giant woman closes behind you.
Click-- lights out, total darkness. You have no possessions at all, but at least more flesh
is slowly regrowing over your scorched bones.
The lights flash on, you're standing in front of a public restroom sink. Ugh-- you face
your reflection under bright fluorescent lights. You look like a faceless Pompeii victim,
scorched to ash with only two dark pits for eyes. A big sign next to the sink says:
WASH YOUR HANDS
All employees must wash their hands.
You do technically still have hands, even if you don't have fingers.
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 21:01:33 GMT -8
Maybe I could wash some blackened flesh away. None of this followed the rules of the reality I know, so maybe I should operate as if it were a dream sequence in a Bergman film. Wall, wash, wash.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 21:06:44 GMT -8
Luckily the faucet turned on with a sensor. There was a small soap dispenser that did likewise, but the liquid that rushed out was pure, liquid gold. It didn't put off any heat though, not that you could melt what wasn't there anymore. It squirted on your hand stumps, and felt quite refreshing, actually. You felt an effervescent feeling as you washed under the warm water, and soon there were fingers emerging from the stumps, and even more flesh knitted over the rest of your body. Did you keep washing?
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 21:10:33 GMT -8
As I had hoped. Even better, actually, since I wouldn't have to climb in the sink and scrub my crotch like a truck stop whore.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 21:15:11 GMT -8
What a peculiar experience, watching your body remake itself in the mirror.
Decomposition in reverse. Your eyes reinflated from dried out little raisins, skin
regrew layer by layer. Even your hair regrew, starting from a baby-like fuzz.
The burned flesh sloughed away, slopping on the floor in gritty blobs. Soon you
were as you recalled, though nude and covered in smears of charcoal. The gold
stuck to your hands, leaving them gleaming metallic halfway to the elbow. |
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 21:17:31 GMT -8
Not a bad look, actually. I open the door to see what else there is to see here. Hopefully the next sign would be as obvious at the first.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 21:20:47 GMT -8
On the back of the restroom door were a variety of flyers and warnings, though
one caught your eye-- printed gold on black.
KILL HIM WITH YOUR
BARE HANDS ALONE
Drown him in
the engine room
-Management
The door opened to that flooded hall. The dirty water lapped at the edge of
the bathroom tile. |
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 21:31:20 GMT -8
Man, some clothes would have been nice. Being naked was never a part of a murder fantasy for me. And how they fuck was I supposed to explain that?
I headed towards where I thought an engine room might be.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 21:37:31 GMT -8
A door opened for you automatically, like you'd stepped on a sensor. More drowned hallway. Something splashed in the distance. Red emergency
lights flicked on, lighting up the dismal chambers.
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 21:39:00 GMT -8
I splashed hastily in that direction. I wanted this to be done already.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 21:46:25 GMT -8
The water level is rising, now reaching mid-calf. Something moves in the water, bobbing
around by your feet. They scurry out and onto the wall. Giant cockroaches the size of
chihuahuas scuttle around you, though they seem to be leaving you be. They have
grown translucent, their internal organs clearly visible, squishing away.
More movement in the darkness, feet splashing away from you. You turn a corner and see
a body floating in the now knee height water. Dark clothes, maybe a teenage boy, face down.
It's not the splasher, they continue on out of sight. |
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 21:55:11 GMT -8
I plow onward. I don't even flinch at the weird giant bugs or the dead kid.
I might roll him over as I pass to see what he looks like.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 22:03:02 GMT -8
He blocks your way anyhow, so it's easy to kick him over. His face is bloated beyond
recognition. He'd never outgrow that acne, that now looks like horrible wounds on
his swollen face.
You hurry past, more bodies fill the hall, to the point of blocking it. They all seem to
be youths, dressed in dark clothes. All waterlogged and swollen. Long drowned corpses
in various stages of decay. You'll have to climb over, or swim under. ((Roll 2d10 + Coolness to maneuver your way around)) |
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Post by Dr. Maneep Pamplemousse on Nov 21, 2018 22:08:37 GMT -8
MTziuDXY+2 (of it's about the corpses, don't forget my advantage)
I imagined if I tried to crawl over, they'd roll like crappy logs and is end up under water anyway. I hoped these were all real and they were Mills' followers.
I held my breath and went under.·
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Nov 21, 2018 22:14:12 GMT -8
Gross, the water is disgusting and nearly opaque with filth, but you move just right to avoid getting it in your mouth and eyes. You pop out the other side and catch sight
of someone almost about to go around the corner. He turns-- orange jumpsuit now
a funky brown with dirt. He does a double take at you and stops.
Timothy-
"Oh, it's you. Fuck, thought you were a monster."
He's uncuffed, and his hair is still dry. He must've been crawling over them rather
than going beneath. Who could say if he even knew how to swim. |
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