In Hunting Beasts and Monsters

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"Good evening fair Hunter. I trust you've had a pleasant rest? I'm glad you made the journey in one piece because I'm afraid you'll have to sleep a little longer. Please don't fret...I promise the monsters under your bed won't bite."

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There are many interpretations of Hell, some of which become incomprehensible to mere mortal minds. Personal Hell. Eternal Hell. Physical Hell. This was Hell. In every sense of the phrase and forevermore. Or rather that’s what it seemed to be. It certainly was Hell for those lost in the endless nightmare, forced to walk alone in this realm of twisted notions.

The Temple seemed to breathe on its own. Dusty, dank, and molted breath, almost like a noxious vapor used to kill pestering insects and other infestations. As decrepit as it may be, it was the closest thing Iredele had to a church. Thinking about it a little more broadly, it was perhaps the last standing place of worship in this nightmarish realm. The World of Wasted Dreams. A plane wrapped in eternal night.

The room must have been in one of the lower branches of the Temple, the lowest in fact. The gathering point where all fresh meat was gathered to display for the haunted souls of this damned place. The room had dirt flooring and no windows, the area being enclosed by sandy brown bricks. A single wooden door separated the room’s occupants from the interior hallways, and the beginning of their escape. The ceiling lay low overhead with several carcasses of dead bugs plastered on its surface like old pieces of candy, and a salty dank smell reeked throughout the place.

There were several occupants locked away in this makeshift prison. A predator and his daily meal. Things were supposed to run smoothly. Get the new ones initiated, make a little threat here and there, maybe promise them some false hope that would never come. The others, those who had been brought to this place on this very night, were trapped in the room in more ways than one. As each of them would wake up one by one, they would find themselves in low darkness. That, and they were all tied up rather nicely. Ropes binded their legs, wrists, and ankles together, while a simple dirty cloth wedged between each of their pretty little lips silenced them.

From the corner, a veteran of this world just by his smell and appearance alone, began to scratch away at the ground with loosely shattered teeth. His skin was both ashen and blackened at once due to some unknown cause, and his torso found itself locked in a rather torn and aging leather jacket. His hair lay matted and sagging over his shoulder to one side and he gave a soft sighing sound with each creak of his heavy step. Each of his eyes had been gouged out with dried blood crusting down his cheeks, and he crawled around on the floor in vain, gradually getting closer to the bound children. His voice was one of quiet endurance, the barest of whispers.

“Meat. I smell….food. Yes…fresh flesh with warm blood running in your bodies to sate my thirst and make me full and make me happy again. He comes. He comes for you and me and everyone….heheh, he comes, he comes!"

The man paused suddenly, as if he saw or heard something the newfound occupants of this world could not, and then continued with his madness mantra.

"I can smell his handiwork…you all….tied up nice and…tight. Makes the sweat and the blood collect all over your squirming masses. He cares after all…"

The man's voice began to pick up into a keening wail, almost a scream of intense recognition.

"A gift for me! He knows how I like them to struggle! Thank you…oh blessed your black soul! He comes, he comes to sing us a nice tale and song!”

The man was foaming slightly at the mouth now, his presence gradually closing the distance between him and those trapped. Outside, the sound of metal clanging on metal resonated and reached into the ears of those trapped. The sound of things in the night, escaping their Hell, now let loose to wander these halls freely.

The boy's glasses were slightly fogged, because the gag was making his breathing awkward and some of the air was directed upwards as he panted with panicked, near-hysterical breaths. He'd woken up about five seconds ago, and it had taken three of them to realize he was somewhere wrong and the other two to realize he couldn't get away.

Think, think, work this out fool...No windows, dirt floor, low ceiling, must be underground. Gods above, what is this place? His heart was pounding so loudly it was a wonder it hadn't woken up some of the others. The old man, if he even was a man--how could a human being live in such a hellish state?--was creeping about, scouring the room. Did he not know they were tied here? Some kind of dungeon? Other people, tied up like me. Ankles...wrists...legs...We're on the ground, not tied to anything, just tied. His joints ached and chafed as he wiggled to see how tight the ropes were. The old man spoke of meat and blood, of being full. His bestial crouch, his obvious insanity, they were more terrifying than his blindness was pitiable. The boy was growing desperate.

Kenji Nakamura liked logic, liked things to make sense even if they weren't simple. But simple wasn't always bad; indeed, within limitations humans were found to often be more creative than if they had complete freedom. Writing a story about "something" was always easier than creating a story from "nothing." This situation he found himself in could not be more simple, because despite all the variables, there were only two possible outcomes no matter what path he took.

There were multiple people tied up in this freak's dungeon, and said freak was apparently having a conniption over getting to cannibalize them. Kenji did not know the other people, or where they were within this building, or how he had gotten here. He did know that he did not want to die and did not feel enough pity for an old blind man to hold him back.

What if he just overpowers me because I'm tied? What if he has a weapon?

I'm going to murder someone, what the hell is wrong with me?

He's blind, and he's old. I can do it. It's this or die.

Kenji rocked himself back and forth on his side until he could sit up. He rocked forward and pushed up with his legs until he could stand, though awkwardly, his knees still slightly bent. No doubt he'd make noise; no doubt the old man would notice. No doubt if this didn't work he'd be killed.

Better to go quick than watch it happen to someone else, or wait helplessly for it. Better to succeed and not go at all.

With strength born of desperation, mind-numbing fear, and an intense feeling that somehow he'd seen someone just as psychotic as this old man before and had failed to stop them that last time, Kenji bent his legs and then pushed off, leaping like a frog. He came down both feet first with all his weight, hoping to land on the old man's head and break his neck. His eyes were blurring with tears even as adrenaline started to surge through his veins.

It was ironic to say the least.

The first thing Donny remembered was a bright flash. The first thing he saw is utter darkness. First he felt panic, then he felt something tight keep his arms and legs together. Then he heard the voice of the old man, and the slamming of metal, then the slamming of bodies. Whatever was going on Donny didn't want to be around to find out. In his panic he began to struggle against the ropes, either trying to force himself out or perhaps shrink his body small enough to free himself. However neither plan were going to work; the ropes were too tough and too tight. But he had some options.

Firstly, his hands were free. The rope were tied around his wrists, leaving his fingers available to work the ropes around his legs. His mouth was also open, so he could try to chew through the ropes, or at least use his teeth to loose them up. First he started with the ropes around his wrist. It took some feeling around with his mouth and tough, but eventually he felt where the knot was. With a surprising amount of skill even for Donny, he was able to undo the ropes around his wrists. His wrist felt raw and sore, but being released from their bindings brought a small amount of relief. Now that his hands are free, he was able to undo the ropes around his legs and ankles with ease. His body felt a bit weak all over, as if he had been in this state for at least an hour or so. But frankly, Donny has no idea how long he's been out. Or where he was at. Or why he was here. Even the old man's rantings didn't really give Donny a clear idea aside that this place was dangerous.

It was also dark. Donny couldn't see a thing, and didn't know his way around the place. He suspected there were more than one person here, not just him and the old man. But if the old man was any indication, the others might be insane and dangerous. Insanely dangerous. Dangerously insane? Either or. Taking some of the rope, Donny reached out and felt the wall. He would slowly walked with his hand on the wall, and hopefully he find a door or something similar he could use to escape. How he would get through the door if he finds it, Donny wasn't certain. Hopefully he had enough strength to force it open or break it down, if need be.

Many a time had Otsune dreamed, of heroism and action and fantasy, but never before had she dreamed like this. Very slowly, despite her best efforts to blink it away, the darkness of unnatural slumber subsided from her eyes, to be replaced by a darkness far more permanent. Her hazel eyes flickered back and forth, naively attempting to make sense of the bizarre things that the pathetic light presented before her. Other sensations surged forth where her sight failed her: the raw, fibrous, and utterly unfamiliar sensation of ropes, the unwelcome tickle of cold air against her face and through her hair, the nigh-revolting, sickly-sweet musk of feculent decay, and most haunting of all the implacable and noisome rantings of a desirous madman.

Instinct flooded Otsune's veins, tugging on her nerves, and she began to feebly rock back and forth. In the oppressive and threatening dark, she couldn't even figure out what she wore, much less how to free herself. Though in truth the steady and inexorable pain that had pricked her bones bothered her no more, the incredible stress now buffeting her brain kept her from realizing it, and that troublesome organ conjured up phantom pain in a misguided attempt to soothe its owner with the familiar. All that her senses frantically relayed to her fell into chaos as the deafening reverberation of metal resounded between the walls of the ruined temple. Beneath that cacophony, Otsune's writhing subsided into a frozen, curled-up ball, no different from a child succumbing to the kicks of a crowd of bullies, and every bit as desperately craved it all to stop.

When the other captives began to take action, they could not count Otsune among their number. In the face of this sudden and unexpected nightmare, when seemingly only moments before she'd been slipping into the quiet embrace of eternal sleep in a hospital bed, confounded her completely and utterly. Only one thought could be pulled from the frightened mass that best characterized her mind: Please, God, save me!

Sinthe slept like a log, he laid flat on the floor without moving, his dreams were nothing, just pitch darkness really. When his eyes opened he didn't say anything, he leaned up with his body feeling tired and fatigued, he tried to move his wrist and ankles only to notice that they were restrained.

The white haired man noticed his hands were free and reached for the ropes on his ankles, he began undoing the ropes on his ankles to free up his legs, when his legs were free Sinthe got up with his still binded hands and noticed some kid drop onto someone.

The white haired man ignored the kid dropping onto someone and nearly killing them, and looked around to his surroundings, it looked like he and the others were taken to a crypt somewhere, probably under a church, Sinthe had an odd feeling like he's been through this once before, been in a place like this, with similar people, but he feels as if he wasn't tied up like he was before hand.

Sinthe noticed a woman with a scarf nearby along with another person that just chose to leave after getting himself free, the guy looked like he had a problem with seeing where he was going and decided to use the wall to guide him out, Sinthe struggled with his binds around his wrist and attempted to pull the ropes apart and after a couple seconds he broke the ropes and a small bead of sweat nearly escaped his forehead.

The dark skinned man walked over to the woman that seemed to curl up onto the floor, he lightly kicked her in the stomach not trying to hurt her in anyway really." Do you need help ?" He asked, he had a serious look about him, he stared at her with his nearly glowing green eyes awaiting an answer, he was curious to if she did.

"Well, if it isn't a novelty? I barely came back and already have more work to do?" Maria thought as she traversed the dark and muddy main street of Iredele on her way to the temple. Sure, with the last one of the previous group having met this demise a couple weeks ago, it was more than in time for... erm, fresh-blood to be brought in the World of Wasted Dreams.

“Ut absolutam gratiam tuam.” Maria said as she entered the not-so-sacred hall, making sure to throw a few rusty coins on the offering box as she crossed the threshold and walked between the rows of derelict benches towards the stairway leading to the basement. Once she arrived at the place from where the new presences were coming from, Maria pushed the heavy door open with almost preternatural ease, probably leading anyone by it to stumble on the grimmy stone floor and assessed the situation before taking any action.

"Would you all care to stop, please?" Maria drew Dark Titania and shot a warning shot close to old man's feet "What someone like you is even doing here? If you don't want to die for real get the hell away from here." Maria gave an icy glare towards the old man, making sure for him that she wasn't bluffing.

With that resolved (or so she though), Maria turned to the newbie hunters, reload her gun before holstering it again and waited to for their reaction with arms crossed under her bust and her back reclined against wall, blocking their only way out of the basement.

Regaining consciousness, body aching all over, mind still dazzled by the last memory before he awake in this place. Bishop looked around, ground below his feet but no sky above him, an underground location was his second thought, first one being where the fuck was he? Seeing his wrists and ankles tied up, hands still free allowing him to remove the cloth stuffed in his mouth then, proceeding to untie the ropes binding his feet. Making out a door in the dim darkness, he frantically ran for it ignoring the other tied up people or what they were doing, and avoiding the mistake of nature crawling on the ground sprouting nonsense. Him? Eating them? Hahaha, by the looks of him he couldn't even swallow yogurt. Just as Bishop was next to the door reaching to the handle with both hands, the door abruptly opened with enough force to slam Bishop back in the ground.
He started saying-"Fucking bi.."-but then noticed the gun that the girl possessed-"bi..beautiful gorgeous being"-the girl then saying-"Would you all care to stop, please?"-addressing to everyone in the room, further adding-"What someone like you is even doing here? If you don't want to die for real get the hell away from here."-while shooting a bullet at the ground near the old man's feet.

More life was stirring, and Donny was getting worried. He hasn't heard anything from the old man, so he was either dead or worse. And if he was crazy, how crazy was everyone else? How crazy was Donny? Existential questions which he could save for later, once he's out of this place. Dony quickened his steps as his eyes grew slowly accustomed to the darkness. He was able to make vague outline of people, though it could just be his mind playing tricks on him. Even his eyes couldn't be trusted it seems.

"Whoa!"

As he was trying to find the door, Donny tripped over something. Or rather, someone. He looked around and noticed the vague outline of someone standing over him. They didn't seem tied up, so either they managed to break out like Donny did, or they're the ones who put them here. Their dimly glowing eyes did nothing to make Donny feel comfortable about their liberation. Looking in the direction of his feet, he could vaguely make out the outline of someone on the ground. This person was tied up like he was, but Donny wasn't sure if this person was alive, dead, dangerous, or just another victim like him. The standing person then asked if they needed help, and Donny was uncertain if he should respond or if the question was even being asked towards him.

Then somewhere in the room a door opened. A woman spoke, followed by a gunshot. Donny wasn't able to catch everything she said, but he guessed that she was their captor. She was certainly in a position of power: the only thing Donny had to defend himself with was a small length of rope, while this woman a least had a gun, and likely knew how to fight much better than he does. At least when she opened the door a small amount of illumination entered the room. It was still dark, but now Donny was certain there were two people near him. He was able to see that the other standing person was male wearing what Donny could only describe as a "fighter robe", as it looked like robes suited for a fighter. The person on the ground was a woman, and while she seemed to be alive she wasn't moving. Perhaps she was unconscious? Either way, Donny had to do something.

Flipping the body over the first thing he looked for was the ropes around her wrists. Sure enough she was bound much like he was. Once he found the knot Donny was able to undo them without must hassle, letting her hands fall down to her sides. Next were the robes around her legs and ankles. He didn't think about it at first, but those ropes are precariously close to her crotch. But any titillation Donny may have normally garnered from the situation was lost due to the threat of potential death, so Donny just looked for the knot on the ropes tying the girl's legs together and undid them as fast as he could. Once her legs were free he moved down towards her ankles, removing those as well.

In less than a minute the girl was free. Donny would have stayed and chatted, but freedom was just beyond that door. But before he could get that freedom he'd have to deal with the one at the door. With the rope he obtained freeing the girl, Donny was quickly able to knot the rope into about three feet. It's use as a flail or lash was possible, but underwhelming. Instead Donny wrapped the rope around his sleeve and hand, turning it into a makeshift gauntlet, capable of slashing blows. If he needed to punch someone. And he might have to soon. Once Donny was armed he made his way over to the mysterious woman, the fear evident in his voice.

"Who are you? Where are we? And what in the hells is going on?"

The approach of the white-haired brawler, his eerie eyes piercing the gloom with freakish emerald light, went unacknowledged and unnoticed by Otsune. Lying on the floor, curled up and shut down, fitful shivers her only movements and rough lengths of twine her only companion, she in fact needed help so incredibly obviously and badly that she could not physically ask for it. As such, when the brute jammed his booted foot into her guts, and in a bass monotone inquired as to whether or not she possibly required into assistance, he received no reply from the terrified woman. Neither did the movements of Bishop or Donny perturb her, not even when the latter collided with her in the dark and tumbled onto the rough, unkind tomb floor.

Only the explosion of costly, mercury-filled steel against the ground penetrated the veil of senselessness into which Otsune had receded. She flinched visibly when Maria wasted her bullet in an act of intimidation, which no doubt frightened the captives every bit as much as, if not more than, the mad cannibal. If Otsune still possessed eyes to hear or ears to see, she would not have regarded the deathly-pale huntress as a hero of any sort, instead another nightmarish threat, and one far more deadly than the age-stricken loon. Putting up only a slight, semiconscious resistance, she allowed herself to be rolled over and her bonds worked at. Despite the miraculous speed and deftness with which Donny undid her restraints, she remained silent and limp, each little freedom only giving her added ability to confine herself.

Once fully unbound, she lay as still as a corpse. For the first time since her rude awakening, silence settled over the room, and in this lull of tranquility the pounding of Otsune's brain began to wane. Inch by inch it gave up its stranglehold over her body, though not until her senses told her no nightmarish danger remained would they relinquish her to awaken anew and regain her lucidity. She longed for some kind of help, some sort of sign that she wasn't alone, forsaken, and lost, to use as a foundation for pulling herself together.

Lillian’s bright eyes flickered opened to darkness, her breath escaping her as she took in the surroundings. A small, danky room with not a hint of light anywhere and the repugnant scent of death filled her nose. Where was she? A large pain ached in her head as she tried to recall where where she had come from. All that came were flashes of a bright white within a hospital room.

A tight, high pitched scream echoed throughout the room as Lillian realized she couldn’t move. Something bounded both her hands and legs, making her stiff with panic and fear.This place wasn't right. Something was terribly wrong, and Lillian wanted to leave. Tears dripped down her pale face. Of course, none of this was real though. She would either wake up very soon or she would find a way out of it herself. She was sure of it. Lillian bit her lip down to stop herself from crying and willed a smile from her dry lips.

Tugging at the bounds, Lillian groaned in annoyance. Why wasn’t it working?! She rolled around the ground, hoping she might come across something to help her. All that she managed to do was make a large sum of noise and look like a dog yearning to itch its back.

Light voices soon caught Lillian’s attention. A rather beautiful girl stood before the rest of the sleeping bodies she hadn’t noticed until then. A thrilled grin covered her face. Lillian was captivated by the girl, as she lied stuck on the ground, and couldn’t keep her eyes off her. She was completely sure they would make great friends and was looking forward to meeting her.

When Sinthe didn't get a reply he choose to just give up on the tied up person, choosing not to help her at all, But before the white haired glowing eyed man could even leave the unresponsive woman to her fate, the man from earlier choose to intervene, he had untied the girl on his own and fashioned some type of longer rope, Sinthe felt like he and the man met before in a different type of time, but felt their meeting was kinda short in a way, like He and the guy met but were distant with one another Sinthe held his head and looked at the guy while he asked the new blonde lady questions.

Sinthe wasn't gonna join the pointless badgering that the man was doing he could easily tell that he wasn't where he was originally, he wasn't going to panic or get crazy, he was a bit curious about the woman that remained on the floor and about the others around the room around them, when Sinthe laid his eyes on the woman he didn't recognize her or get a feeling that he knew her in any way shape or form he stared at the pale woman before she fired a shot at the old man without hesitation, then threatened him." Well I can see that the people are friendly here towards one another, give a good look on how we'll be treated." Sinthe spoke aloud.

Hayden stirred awake, her head pounding as pain shot through her skull and the rest of her body. Getting herself off the floor, her sore shoulder ached and burned as she got herself up. Looking around, darkness was the only thing that greeted her; torches and candles from distant places broke the shadows and gave enough light to see to some degree.

Slowly the ringing in her head subsided, only to be replaced by the cult-like mantras of an old man. It was a very pleasent thing to wake up on a stone floor to the voice of a senile old fool going on about someone's "handiwork" and "blessed black soul". Creepy was an understatement. The first thing she should do was to get up and-

Shit.

Hayden took a good look down and discovered her bondage of rope and fiber. Is this what that man referred to as "handiwork"? Does he have some strange kinky fetish? Twisting and fidgeting her wrists, Hayden felt the rough rope burn and scratch into her wrists already turning red. However, the ropes had gotten looser by exactly .071%; it felt like Hayden's hands would sooner just fall off than freeing her shackles.

Sighing, she resolved to just look around and recall what happened. She remembered a... police car? And a truck, something about a murder and a hospital. Panning her eyes around, it was clear that this was no hospital she knew of. The cold stone felt slick to the touch, Hayden spotted some kind of vegetation around the edges of the cell and the iron bars that caged her in like some disobedient pet.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard someone else walk in, a girl. She looked like doll, her skin white enough to shine even in these dim lights with long hair that reached her waist. She looked like someone's childhood doll come to life; only with a gun. The shot she fired rung in Hayden's skull, causing her to wince once more. "Who the hell is this girl and who gave her gun?", Hayden thought as she shook her head to clear her vision of her hair, her eyes getting used to her new setting.

The man reacted alright, throwing off Kenji's aim, but the boy still managed to catch him with his awkward, hysterical blow. Somehow he'd torn the leathery, mottled, sickly skin, and the old man's blood began to bubble out with the weak, unsteady beat of his heart. The old creature let out a screech and scrabbled backwards, falling over himself. Kenji did much the same with less noise, the bindings making it awkward to distance himself. At first he was terrified, thinking that the cannibal would recover and come after him--but a shot rang out, and the creature scurried to the corner where he collapsed, twitching and sobbing, no doubt in incredible pain and trying in vain to hold back the blood with his gnarled fingers. Soon his clothes and the dirt around him were even filthier as the thin, watery fluid refused to be staunched.

Kenji managed to roll over and turn his face enough to see what was going on. A door had been thrown open, allowing more light into the room, though the darkness still ruled this grim place. The others had begun to stir; Kenji watched several of them use their hands to frantically work at the other knots binding them.

Holy shit why didn't I think of that. I pride myself on doing smart things, holy shit I just completely missed that.

You were panicked and thought you were under attack. Also are you seriously just going to ignore that you just killed that guy?

Someone else in here has a gun.

I have to ignore it, if I acknowledge it now everything goes to hell, I have to stay calm...have to survive...safety first, think primitive, think simple, find safety...

A white haired man, muscular, had managed to break his binds with a grunt of effort, the rotted ropes fraying and crackling as they came apart. He had moved to help a woman who was rocking back and forth, whimpering. The pale woman who was the one responsible for the gunshot, judging by the weapon at her hip, was near the door, apparently blocking the exit even though she'd been the one to open it from the other side. Near her was a man with his hand on the wall, likely feeling his way before the portal to the outside had been opened. This fellow had completely undone his bindings with what seemed like practice skill, as opposed to hastily tearing at the knots or just breaking them with sheer strength.

Some guy with the whole "hooded mysterious figure" shtick was in front of the woman with the gun, having been knocked on his rear when the door had opened. The guy who'd been feeling his way through the dark, now able to see, moved to help the other man and undo the bindings on the still-catatonic woman. He used the ropes to jury-rig himself a weapon. The now-freed woman still lay there, completely still...was she hurt? Dead?

Another girl, a blonde, screamed as she woke up, and like Kenji had she began struggling to get herself into a position where she could see something. When she finally laid eyes on the woman with the gun, she froze.

The white haired man, who Kenji now realized seemed to be wearing some sort of martial arts uniform, spoke up in a louder tone than most of the others thus far. He made a snarky remark about the woman with the gun and her treatment of the old man.

Must not have noticed I literally kicked that man's jugular out just a few minutes ago. Maybe he won't notice. If he does I hope that doesn't put me on his bad side.

There was another girl in the room, this one with brown hair, and she merely seemed to be taking everything in silently. There were still others, but they seemed to either still be sleeping, or at least not moving around much. No one yet had apparently taken notice of Kenji even though he'd been the first one to try and do something about the crazy old man aside from this woman with the gun.

Maybe that's a good thing. Let's focus on freeing myself and getting some room to think, here. Everyone else is already asking the questions--let's just wait until the woman with the gun actually answers.

He scooted backwards until his back was against the wall, and he could look out over the room and see everyone, make observations. He managed to loosen the gag around his mouth enough to let it hang down around his throat. Then he untied his ankles, then his legs. Using his teeth he undid the knot around his wrist--finally, he was free. Like the other man, he decided that the rope would probably make a good weapon, but he wasn't very good at tying knots. He just did a basic over-and-under, like he was tying a trashbag shut, then did another one on top of that and another on top of that, eventually binding all the robes together in an awkward flail-shape, the knotty bits forming a heavy weight at one end. The whole time he was doing this, his eyes roamed the surroundings, explored faces, took in expressions. His ears were pricked for voices, trying to pick out anything that would help him figure out just what the hell was going on.

Like the booming crack of a clap of thunder, the loud raucous gunshot so rudely grabbed the slumbering gentleman and swiftly ripped him into the waking world. His eyes snapping open, he felt as though he were a drowning victim saved from a potential early and watery grave. Sharply gasping for a breath of air as he abruptly woke and immediately wished he hadn't. His head swam and his ears rang painfully as he briefly thought for a moment that he was blind. Coughing violently, the young man blinked a few times as he fought back the urge to vomit from the horrid fetid and rotten smell that had wafted up his nostrils. Shaking his head, he let his vision adjust for a moment and determined that he was thankfully not blind. More alarmingly, it was just an intense darkness. Frowning, he then thought that perhaps he had died and that this was the afterlife. Breathing heavily, he tried to move and found it difficult to do so as he was tightly detained by knotted ropes. Dread filling his heart and causing him to panic, he realized that he was indeed very much so alive. At least, for the moment.

"I'm not dead. I'm captured. More than likely about to be executed if that sound was anything to go by." he thought to himself.

Instead of struggling against his bindings and thrashing about screaming for help, he forced himself to gather his mental faculties and to remain calm. His head still ached with a dull pain, the smell of wherever he was located was just horrible, and his ears were just now recovering from the sound that was responsible for his conscious state. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling too good about himself at all. Shutting his eyes tightly, he thought hard to himself.

"Okay, think. First of all...who am I again?...My name...My name is Paul. Paul Delacroix. That's right. Alright, so how-...how did I get here? What..." Having rediscovered his name, Paul was quickly regaining his bearings. Only problem was, he strained to remember much else other than a few bits of knowledge about himself. Thinking any harder caused his mind more pain. "Ugh...my head. Okay, that's not as important right now. Right now it's very obvious I've been captured and detained. For what reason, I don't know. All I need do right now is to stay calm and think of a way to get out of-.."

The sound of other voices and movement caused his eyes to reopen and he came to the sudden revelation that he was not alone in this blacked-out place. Far from it. It was hard to make out details and shapes, but he was certain there were others just like him moving about and even speaking. Damn it all if his senses weren't taking their sweet time to fully recover. Still feeling hazy and sick, he decided to give himself more time to assess the situation. Straightening himself as best he could, he wriggled his way backwards. Why that particular direction even he wasn't sure of, but when his upper back met with a wall he let out a quiet sigh of relief as he sat up against it. For now, he would take no action. Deliberate information gathering was the name of the game. Eyes flitting to and fro, he used his peripherals to try and make out exactly how many others were there with him. His ears focused in on any spoken conversation, though that was a bit of a challenge as his blood loudly rushed through his veins and washed everything out. Adrenaline and a fast-beating heart the main culprit there. Willing himself to calm down, he futilely looked at his bindings to see if he could somehow work his way out of them. He figured as tight as they were, he didn't have the dexterity and finger strength to free himself through that method. Instead, he maybe thought to use their tightness against themselves. If he could find something sharp or serrated enough, he could carefully rub his wrists against it until freed.

"One thing at a time. For now, stay quiet and observant." Paul told himself.
A nervous bead of sweat slowly rolled down the side of his face, his breathing still labored and ragged from fear.
"Damn it all if I can't at least get this disgusting taste out of my mouth!"
Leaning forward and reaching up with his bound hands, he successfully removed his gag and spat a few times to rid himself of the aftertaste of wherever that filthy rag had been. At least now he could breathe a little easier. For the moment at the least.

Caval began pulling against the ropes anything he could do to get them off hed did: biting them, pulling them. Anything he could do to escape, he started to become erratic. He started feverishly struggling against the bindings, the ropes began burning his wrist, rubbing them raw. He cried out in pain, his breathing became irregular.

Then he saw a girl and he stopped struggling, he was entranced by her presence then his eyes fixed on the gun by hip. He snapped out of his trance and moved back against the wall like a caged animal. He resumed biting the ropes, ignoring everyone else but he did see others removing their bindings. He was free, he began freeing his feet. He began clapping his hand childishly, then the reality of where he was hit by the reality of the situation and he began to sob in fear.

"How did i get here." He thought bitterly, he began to erratically grab his hair and biting his nuckles and rocking back and forth in an attempt to calm himself down. He thought back to the room, the smell of the hospital, the woman, the blinding light. He curled himself into a ball and waited to see what the girl would do.

A variety of sounds and smells assaulted the sleeping Lazar, but despite the undertone of panic and fear they held the man continued sleeping comfortably in the dirt. At least until the gunshot jolted him to wakefulness. Instincts he didn't remember earning kept him lying still as he pieced together the scene. A filthy rag in his mouth and old ropes around his legs and arms constituted his bindings, but he didn't try to remove them as he listened to the different mutterings and exclamations from the other occupants of the room. When he felt sure that no one was looking at him, he picked up his head to see what was going on.

Most of the occupants seemed to be prisoners, like himself. Some were standing, dark shapes in the distance, who might be captors. Against the far door a woman stood with commanding posture, clear even in the dark, and from the holster bulging at her hip he presumed she was the one who fired the gun. As he watched, others were working at their bindings so he figured he might as well seize this opportunity to do it too. First, the gag was pulled out, then he rubbed the back of his hand across his brow and licked the salty sweat to get the taste of filth out of his mouth. Then he set thick, clumsy fingers to his ropes, unsuccessfully. How did I get here? He thought. Memories of heat prickled his skin, smoke that made his eyes water, but not much beyond that.

After a length of time, Donny noticed the stirring of others. He still couldn't see more than vague outlines of these people, and most of his attention was focused on the mysterious woman, but Donny now had an internal conflict. On one hand he was scared and wanted answers. But knowing there are other victims like himself here, he felt... Compelled to help them. Rationalizing that perhaps if he helps them, they could help him. Help him escape, or fight against this woman, or whatever they need to figure out and survive this place. Plus while Donny didn't trust the mysterious woman at all, she wasn't aiming her gun at them: as far as he can tell she's leaning up against the wall just watching everyone. Assuming she wasn't suppose to be here to keep everyone trapped, Donny figured he might have some time to help the others.

So carefully Donny began moving around the darkness, looking for people who were bound up. There was a high pitch scream not too long ago which Donny felt was quite close, so he went towards it. Eventually he was able to identify a vaguely female shadow (@BlueAjah) at his feet, so he knelt down and spoke softly. "Hey. My name is Donny. I'm going to help you, so just... Stay still please." Carefully Donny reached for the girl's wrists, and assuming she wasn't resisting, he undid the rope around her arms. He would have stayed to undo the rest, but if this woman was alive than she might be able to free herself now that her hands are not bound. And if she was hostile, keeping her legs bound would give Donny time to run.

Donny worked his way towards the next person. He wasn't anywhere near a wall so he walked carefully, but he stepped into something wet and slippery, causing him to trip and fall forward. His head must have hit the wall or into someone's skull, because even though he stuck his arms out to catch his fall his head slammed right into something. After the flashes of pain was over he noticed another silhouette (@ClocktowerEchos) in the darkness. "Whoa. Uh, sorry about that. I guess I've fallen for you, eh? Ha ha ha hah." Bad joke aside Donny got to work. Like before he felt around for the rope around the wrists, undoing them with deft speed and precision. By now Donny was able to take these ropes off almost instantly, as so far they all seemed to be tied the same way. He was able to pinpoint almost exactly where the knot was going to be as soon as he figured out where the wrists were.

Soon Donny did find himself back at a wall, and he could see that a few figures have also pressed themselves against the wall. Walking even more carefully this time to prevent slipping or tripping Donny made his way towards the others. He wasn't very quite as his foot-steps echoed through the fairly empty room, but hopefully this would allow the others to not be surprised when she shows up. And assuming they haven't already freed themselves and were planning on fighting their way out, hopefully they won't hurt him when he tries to help. He found his first victim (@harinezumikouken) against the wall, who Donny saw moving something from his mouth. Perhaps it was a gag? Whatever it was, he was awake, so Donny knelt down to his level. "Hi. I'm Donny, let me undo those ropes for you." Reaching down towards the stranger's wrists, Donny was able to take the rope apart with just one hand, though it took him a bit longer than usual, he still removed it. "I'm going to try to get to the others, undo the ropes around your legs and try to help."

Donny continued to move around the room trying to free as many people as he could. By this point the woman with the gun was just a distant memory; he had other, more immediate concerns, like freeing as many prisoners as he could. Donny could only hope he wasn't making a big mistake...

---

---

Maria said as she looked at the writing old man, not even the least trace of sympathy was visible in her wine-colored eyes. "You all should be thankful, that you didn't ended like him. At least for the time being."

"I have to say, compare to the last group, you guys at least look like you have what it takes to be a hunter." Maria waited until most of the newbies were freed by the one who looked like he had a lot of skill with ropes as she wondered if said skill couldn't be put to more... entertaining purposes "Such a shame it had to be a man.", she sighed.

While she observed Dony work the others bindings, Maria took the time to assess everyone who seemed to have come back to their senses, not really caring for the ones who still lay "asleep". But eventually, the huntress decided that it would be the best to brief them on their predicament in a place that smelled and felt a bit less filthy.

"If you are all feeling better now, I'd like explain your current... 'situation'. However, a feces (and some less pleasant things) caked cellar makes for a pretty poor meeting room. Why don't you all follow me upstairs and have your first meeting with the Absolute?"

With that said, Maria turned her back on the newbies and gestured for them to follow her upstairs, but not before throwing a long stare towards a certain blond girl worming herself up on the corner of the cellar. "Perhaps this time things can be a bit more fun..." she thought, finally leaving them to their own devices and finding a less precarious bench to rest Pandora against and wait for them.

Others were waking up, each having the typical reactions. Wiggling about, trying to look around, some crying or whimpering. The one who had felt his way about the darkened room now made his way to some of those who were having trouble with their bindings. Kenji could hear well enough to pick up his name. Donny.

Doesn't sound like he's from around here...

No, wait. Where is "here?" Where was I...before?

My name is Kenji. Nakamura Kenji. I'm Japanese. Donny's not a Japanese name. Before I was here, I was...

...

What the hell?

The boy felt gingerly around his head with his fingertips. No bumps, no blood, no cuts, no suspicious microchips sticking out of his skull. He was fine, from head to toe, aside from the chafe marks of the ropes and a general sense of unwellness, likely from the atmosphere and environment he'd found himself in. No head trauma. So why was he missing such a huge gap in his memory?

Two plus two is four. Yeah, that's definitely right. Sine, cosine, and tangent are functions derived from quadratic equations that produce predictably shaped graphs. I have a high school education. I WENT to high school at...

At...

Dammit, okay. Japan, the United States, Russia, the United Kingdom, China, South Korea...I'm pretty sure I remember a lot of the names of countries from wherever I was. I'm Japanese, I have a Japanese name. I must have lived in Japan. Therefore, I LIVED AT...

...Dammit!

The woman with the gun was speaking. Kenji's eyes cut to her sharply, not wanting to miss anything she might do with that firearm. She said something about "hunters," putting enough emphasis on the word that Kenji didn't think she meant regular game hunting. She told them that she would answer their questions, if they followed her to meet someone--or something--called the Absolute.

...I think they're speaking English, not Japanese. I know, despite these gaps in my memory, that I cannot speak fluent English. But I understand these people perfectly.

That woman says she'll explain everything, but let's see what I can figure out on my own.

Slowly, he stood up against the wall. He looked around at the others, who for the most part seemed just as lost as he was. Maybe more so.

Now that I think back, I do remember hearing...sounds, before that old man's cackling. Metal, clanging on metal. Things...things that I want to say perhaps sounded bestial. The old guy talked about blood and eating people. This woman talks about Hunters. The old guy was scared of her, and...

Huh. If that old guy's not dead yet...

Kenji looked into the corner where that freakish cannibal had retreated. With another look back towards the group, Kenji approached the old man freely, no longer bound by the ropes. Instead his bindings had been fashioned into that makeshift flail, which he spun fast enough to make it whistle lightly. Standing in front of the twisted, blind creature, he hardened his eyes and his heart.

"Alright, freak." he said, the first words he'd spoken aloud in this place. "That lady says she's gonna do the explaining, but I figure you're already here. So why don't you give me some answers first?" He popped the short length of rope like a whip near the old man's face.

"What building, in what town, within what country, on what planet, are we currently, in that exact order?" he asked, his voice like flint. "And what is a Hunter?"

The only answer was a pained gurgle. The man's throat wound was apparently bad enough to damage either his airway or his vocal chords. Either way, he couldn't give Kenji the answers he wanted. The threats wouldn't change that, so the boy sighed and simply left the creature there. He thought about maybe trying to kill the old man again--to at least make his passing quick--but when he thought about how utterly fucked everything around here seemed to be, he decided that he didn't have enough pity to do that.

"I don't suppose anyone else would be willing to pool our resources and information, before we go out there blindly believing everything we're told by a woman with a gun, huh?" he asked, though his voice had lost its edge and become rather half hearted. He kind of doubted some of the other people would even bother responding to him, as little communication as there had been so far.

Bishop got up, not paying much heed to the others behind him, his left hand visibly shaking and proceeded to follow Maria upstairs. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, one which was visibly pulsing on his neck which would* be visible if it wasn't for his masking cloths. He climbs after Maria slamming the door behind him and quickly launches himself at the unsuspecting Maria, locking both his hands(still tied) in her throat and Bishop breaks into an hysterical laughter while strengthening his choke on Maria.