The room was silent; your bed was hard. Your first view of the room was as dismal as you remember. The walls were clean, but somehow confining. Like they were imposing over you. Your body was stiff, like you had been lying still for days. The bed certainly was not comfortable, but that was not the only reason that you wanted to get up. You felt a sense of urgency to the situation, like someone was trying to prod you along, or your adrenaline was on the cusp of flooding your body.

You look around the room. The others are unfamiliar, and everyone looks out of place... literally. Something is telling you that these people do not belong here. You had a feeling that if you were to see yourself, the same would apply to you. Maybe you're superstitious or maybe you just have a knack for feeling instinct, but everything here felt wrong. An affront to everything natural. And that was beyond the fact that you've been apparently kidnapped!

You lift your head to face the opposite wall, where a cracked TV hangs precariously, static filling the screen. Unmistakably, however, you see that a face flickers across the screen - only for a few milliseconds at a time. He (for it is clearly a 'he') is shrouded in a silhouette, but there is a sense of superiority about the figure. As if... he knows why you're there.

In an instant, the lights go out in the room, and a loud banging is heard. A sense of dread sets in, but it is over as soon as it begins. The television screen is now completely black, but something disturbing catches your eye.

Carved into the wall above the screen is a single word. It was not there before.



Somehow, you know that awaiting a rescue is pointless at this time. You get up to explore the room and interact with your fellow captives.

A head stuffed with inquiries and confusion. A pair of lungs seemingly empty. A heart filled with dread and about to burst. Perhaps it might sound poetic on paper, but to Harold, it felt like a horror story. His body felt filled with adrenaline yet sluggish, in a daze yet entirely alert. All the contradictions that were made up of this new truth he had discovered couldn't possibly be real, but somehow they were. A flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm him entirely. Questions barely had time to surface in his head before they were overwhelmed by more, an unceasing flow of impossible askings. Did his parents know he was gone? Would his modern literature professor notice his absence? What would happen to him? Where was he? How would he ever get home again? How-

"No. Stop thinking like that," he thought to himself. "Breathe." He didn't even realize he was hyperventilating until he had stopped to think. His father's voice rung true in his ears, spouting cliché phrases that only meant something when they needed to. "The best way to control your situation is to control yourself." Harold walked back to the bed he had woken up on and sat down on the mattress, if it could even be called that. "In, and out. In... and out." He waited until he had regained control of his lungs and his senses. "Well then," he mumbled to himself. "What to do now?"

Well, there was a lot he could do, he soon realized. He could further examine the walls and confines of the box they had been locked up in, perhaps to search for some hidden compartment or a way out of here. Another option would be to take a closer look at the television, where he and the rest of his new boxmates had received their only clue as to what was going on. Or perhaps, the best option would be to introduce himself to the other occupants of their room... cell... box? He still wasn't sure of the classification of his confines. Either way, he realized that taking charge and stepping out to make friends could easily help him to seem knowledgable about the whole situation. Or would taking the time to examine and take in his surroundings give the same impression, along with providing actual information?

"Screw it," he stated, under his breath. "Hopefully, I won't be in here long enough for it to even matter." A nonchalant statement, made with surprising force. He stood up, fully invested in what he was going to do. Beginning over by the television, he began to examine the walls carefully for any noticeable indentations. He was counting on the hope that the others would notice and join his search. "The more eyes we have on these walls, the quicker we can find something and get out of here." Unless, of course, there was nothing to find. Harold still had a hunch that something eerie was going on here, something that couldn't be explained by the sciences he so often studied. Yet, if there was something to be found, he would forever despise himself for missing it. With that decided, he continued to scour every last detail on the walls, hoping beyond hope to find something, anything.

Thomas rolled about in his bed. He didn't want to get up yet, he didn't have work today. Ben can make his own breakfast, he's old enough, Thomas thought to himself. He rolled over on his side, and pulled the covers over himself. Wait a second, he wondered, why's it light in here? I have blackout curtains. Thomas suddenly sat up and opened his eyes, seeing a fully lit room, with other people in similar beds to him. He looked around him, not seeing his kippah, which was usually on his bedside table. However, he had no bedside table now. Thomas looked down, and saw that he was fully clothed. Hoping that this continued for his entire body, he felt his head, where his kippah should be. Under his hands, he felt his suede kippah, attached to his hear with some clips, and let out a sigh of relief. Now I can worry about other issues, he thought to himself.

Thomas got out of his bed and made it. After all, a tidy room makes a tidy mind. Hopefully, James would remember that whilst Thomas was gone. Thomas also hoped that he would get back to his son, and out of this room, that he couldn't see a door out of. What he did see, however, was a man who was dressed just as smart as him, possibly even smarter. @SomewhatAverage He walked over to him, and began to introduce himself, "Hey, you have any idea what's going on?" he asked.

James was worn out, he wearily gets up and his back begins playing up, and searches his pockets for a book, or anything he could have had on him, but he finds nothing. Nothing but his clothes.

"Oh hello there! Searching for something are we? Why not check that the beds? I'd help but I almost had my back broken by a recent convict... Last time I visit an old case if we get out. Did any of you two scratch that word in the wall?" James states in the most hearty and friendly tone he can before keeling over in pain back onto the bed. "I'll lie here for a while... I hope you find something to get us out of here with."

Leah woke to voices, but didn't want to open her eyes until she could identify them. She could see bright light through her eyelids, much brighter than it should have been in her dorm room. She hadn't had a roommate since last semester. But then who was in her room?

She sat up in her bed and opened her eyes, looking around wildly for something familiar, but her surroundings were strange and quite alarming. She was in a room with several other people in varying states of wakefulness, some up and walking around, some still asleep. Leah set her sights on a well-dressed man who was inspecting a large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. From the back he reminded her of Jared in appearance, though he wasn't as tall. She shivered and looked at the man making his bed. He was wearing a small, bowl-shaped hat. Ah, he's Jewish. The next man who'd woken was still laying on his bed, complaining of back pain. He was trying to sound friendly, but something told her he was not to be underestimated.

Though none of the men were paying her any attention yet, Leah still felt the chill of intimidation creep into her limbs. She didn't like being so confined with men around. She decided to stay in her bed and watch them take charge of the situation. Obviously she'd been kidnapped. She didn't want to make things worse for herself by drawing attention. Perhaps in a normal situation she'd introduce herself and pretend men didn't bother her at all. But stuck in this doorless, windowless room as she was...she wasn't going to risk being polite. Leah turned slowly in her bed, pressing her back to the wall right next to her. She crossed her legs and spread her long, pink skirt over her knees. Crossing her arms defensively, she stared impassively at her new roommates.

What woke Avi was, in fact, the lack of paws in his face. Pen had a tendency to wake him by pressing his paws to his cheekbones until he swore he heard them crack. After that, when he opened his eyes he registered literally painfully bright lights. He groaned and shut his eyes again, moving his hand around and looking for his blanket to covers his head again. But there were no blankets. The bed didn't even smell of feel like his bed. Confused, Avi sat up, only to find well holy jesus on a stick, it wasn't his bed. A glance around told him he wasn't even in his house anymore. The room was barren, apart from a flatscreen in the corner -wow, someone's watched too much SAW- and a few other people. A word was scratched onto the wall and he swore it wasn't there the first time his eyes did a sweep of the perimeter.

"So, we're stuck with each other, I suppose, since there are no blatantly obvious exits..." Avi thought aloud, standing, taking a moment to balance himself and tie his hair back, and then beginning to press his hands to the walls, one palm at a time. Everyone seemed either to be coping or trying to figure out a way to get out. Understand the situation. Well everyone except Princess Daisy, Avi noticed. "Hey girly, mind helping me out with a perimeter check? Looking under the cots maybe? Cuz as pretty as you are, you're not actually helping, sitting there like that," he said. His tone wasn't rude necessarily but it was appropriately urgent. It would do no good to sit and do nothing.

Leah's head snapped over to the man who had called her "Girly". She narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise did not change her expression. It was best to keep her emotions to herself, even if she was irritated at the man already. He looked like the type of guy who wouldn't leave her alone if she simply ignored him, so she untangled her limbs and stood. Her fear made her shaky on her feet, and she could feel herself go lightheaded. She leaned against the side of the bed until the feeling dissipated, then walked over to the man who'd spoken to her. She put her hands up to the wall next to him, shivering slightly, and started feeling around for something, anything, unusual. Clearing her throat, she asked him "What should I be looking for?" Her voice was small and tremulous, and she hated herself for her timidity. She hoped she could at least blame her shivering on her thin pink skirt and white cotton blouse. It was quite cold in the room, and the beds had no blankets.

Maele jolted awake, the way that people sometimes do when on the verge of consciousness, with a feeling of falling. Unbidden, she stiffened her limbs, the movement jolting her head from its pillow. Her mind swam in a strange haze, and she shook it wearily, her vision clearing slowly. Immediately, a weight settled upon her chest, an icy chill running through her body. This was not her apartment.

Suddenly, the haze was completely gone, replaced instead with a terrible feeling of panic. She sat up in alarm, eyes wide, as if allowing more light in would help her to understand what she was seeing. There were others in the room; a few men looking at the walls, a thin girl who looked just younger than Maele herself, and a few more that were still on beds of their own. The room itself was almost bare, just the beds, a blacked-out TV and the word 'broken' on the wall... and holy hell. No windows. No door.

What was going on? How did she get here? Who were the others? Maele took a deep breath to stop her thoughts from reeling out of control. Clearly, someone had brought her here, and clearly, the others were in the same situation. But some of them had woken up before her; maybe they knew something more? She decided she would have to ask someone... but who?

Alright, good start, Harold. Now keep it up. After a few minutes of scanning the walls of their confines, the other members of their room burst into action. Another of his new roommates, Jewish, from the look of their headdress, began to approach him and spoke to him. "Hey, you have any idea what's going on?" Harold glanced over his shoulder and responded with a small smile, "Well, not yet, but the point of experimentation is to find results, is it not? Do you think you could lend a hand?" He celebrated internally at the second set of hands. If this guy helped him, theoretically, they could cut the work time in half. Honestly, he could tell that there was most likely plenty more to be uncovered here that he was looking at on the short term.

Indeed, another of the men in the room pointed out a large flaw in his plan. Two, in fact. Harold let out a small sigh in frustration as he realized. I should've thought to look under the beds or examine the words. He tried to maintain his neutrally positive expression as he spoke. "Thanks! I'll go check that out now." He walked over to the television, where he saw what appeared to be their only sort of actual clue.

BROKEN.

What does it mean? The only broken thing that he saw was the television. Or perhaps the beds, given their relative uncomfortableness. He took a moment to thank his recently filed fingernails; they would serve him well in the task ahead. However, scratching at the words seemingly carved into the wall revealed nothing. It was almost as if they were somehow part of the original design of the wall. That was impossible, of course, but the wall remained its integrity even through desperate scratching. All the change that he noticed was a woman in a pink skirt sit up on her bed. Certainly, it was a difference from his regular attire, but each was entitled to their own style, he supposed. Personally, he was just glad that he still wore his black suit and purple tie. It gave him a sense of maturity and capability, despite their hopeless situation.

A new voice in the crowd was what knocked him out of a bit of a daze. Harold turned to see another man had woken up. He was happy to see that the newcomer got straight down to business. Even more so when he convinced the girl in the skirt to help them. "Great. The more people we have searching, the better chance we have of actually finding something." Speaking directly to the girl, he said, "Do you think you could look under the empty beds? Just under the sheets, mattresses, just in case whoever stuck us in here thought they could pull a fast one over us." Realizing that his scratching was getting him nowhere, he voiced this observation to the group. "The walls aren't peeling away near the words. Somehow, it's like they're part of the wall. I'm not sure how."

As he moved back to examining the walls, another young woman woke up into a sitting position. Harold turned to her and said nonchalantly, "As long as you're up, would you mind checking under your bed for anything? We're just trying to get a scope of the place." While he turned to the wall and continued, he really started to notice was the difference between everyone in this room. Most serial killers had some sort of signature, but their serial kidnapper seemed to lack this. It was clear that everyone in here was not of the same appearance, gender, religion, or age. So why were we the ones to be targeted? Pushing such thoughts aside, he continued to examine the walls. It seemed to be the only thing he could do without making himself look and feel helpless.

OOC: I'm pretty sure I've at least mentioned everyone who has posted so far, so it seems like an exercise in futility to tag everyone. Carry on.

"Well, not yet, but the point of experimentation is to find results, is it not? Do you think you could lend a hand?" the man that Thomas had spoken to asked him. "Sure," Thomas replied, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. Thomas walked around the perimeter of the wall, not finding anything of note. He saw the word BROKEN on the wall, above the TV, but he saw that the other man was looking at it. When he was just about done circling the room, he saw a girl, with short, black hair @millificent228 sat on her bed. Thomas walked over to her, to see if she was okay.

Hey, I'm Thomas, he introduced himself, "Are you okay?"

From the second she opened her eyes, Jess knew something wasn't quite right. She didn't feel any real panic just yet, she had woken up in an unfamiliar place many times before. The bed she shifted on wasn't exactly made of clouds, but it was by far better than a park bench. Furrowing her brows, she kept her gaze transfixed on the ceiling for a good twenty minutes, the only sign that she was still alive was her chest rising and falling beneath her thin white top.

It was only when other sounds of movement echoed across the room that she turned her head, her features betraying nothing but mild boredom. Her eyes darted around the room as people began to wake, clearly disorientated and as clueless as she was. And, boy, how she hated not knowing more than everyone else.

Jessamine's gaze was particularly drawn to this one girl in pink. The colour choice already caused her to raise an eyebrow, even more so when she stood up and spoke in a tiny voice. Pathetic. She made a mental note of each and every person as her attention slid across her surroundings. Most of these notes consisted of one word, some of them unspeakable. Good thing she never said them aloud, it wouldn't be good for her to be the most hated in the room already. Instead, she just stuck to her usual sarcastic comments.

"Good luck searching for nothin'." Lifting her legs up in a child-like manner, her full lips stretched out into an innocent smile. "I'm just sayin', whoever put you here obviously isn't gonna leave things lying out waiting to be found." As always, she addressed everyone as 'you', instead of 'us'. It was something she liked to do to ensure that everyone knew she was different, better.

Maele was still trying to work out who to approach first when the decision was made for her. Two of the men had been talking near the wall, and the younger one began giving out orders. He wasn't rude in his approach, but he was confident; she chose to take this as a good sign. Whatever had happened before she woke up didn't seem to have dulled his initiative, so perhaps the situation wasn't as dire as it seemed. And especially in these starting stages, she knew it was important that they had someone calling the shots. Happy it wasn't her, she would comply.

He wanted her to check under the beds? Sure, it was a good idea. And definitely better than sitting around doing nothing. She stood, and was about to lift her mattress when the second man approached her. "Hey, I'm Thomas. Are you okay?" He was older than her, dressed neatly, and he had a small cap on his head that she took a second to place. Oh, he's Jewish, she realized, feeling somewhat ashamed that it had taken her a moment to register. She smiled at his question, appreciative of his concern, and discovered that it was nice to know another's name. Somehow, even this small piece of knowledge made her feel less alone in the room.

"I'm Maele," she replied, trying to keep her tone light. "Thanks, I'm... well, as okay as I can be right now. Are you alright? Have I missed anything?"

She jumped when another voice rang out in the room. A third girl, who she had not noticed before, was now sitting up in bed. She spoke to them as a group, and it was clear that she thought that any searching they might do was fruitless. Which was possibly true, but Maele had never been a fan of just giving up. She wiped her palms on her jeans, now feeling twice as determined to give the room a thorough search.

Harold was just about to give himself a pat on the back for organizing everyone so quickly when he heard someone say what he had hoped they wouldn't mention. "Good luck searching for nothin'." He turned to find a young woman in a white top still on her bed. @Filthy Mudblood "I'm just sayin', whoever put you here obviously isn't gonna leave things lying out waiting to be found." She spoke these words with an eerie confidence, as if her voice was meant to be heard above the crowd. Oh dear, he thought to himself. Perhaps others wouldn't be too concerned with her comment, but Harold knew better. Sometimes, all it took was one negative voice in the crowd to discourage everyone. He doubted any of his new roommates were pushovers, but he wanted to make sure all of his bases were covered. Besides, he had a feeling that she was far craftier than her innocent look revealed. Depending on their encounters, he knew that they would either end up as allies or rivals. It was simply the way authoritative people like him worked.

"Well, I'd much rather look for something and find nothing than not bother and miss something useful. Say, while you're up, why don't you check under your mattress? We would've gotten it for you, but you were busy sleeping while the rest of us were searching." He made sure to keep his voice calm and even with only a hint of authority. He recognized that his statement managed to contain helpful advice and a veiled insult, so he made sure that she could reasonably respond however she saw fit. After all, the game's only exciting if you're not the only one who knows how to play it.

Leah stiffened as the well-dressed man told her to look under the beds. She didn't like being ordered about and singled out, however politely it was done. But she put on what she hoped was a serene expression as she turned away from the wall and the bearded man and started on her task.

The floor was clean and bare under the beds, and she saw nothing out of the ordinary, not even a speck of dust. She was halfway done with them when another girl woke and spoke to the room mockingly. Leah saw the girl give her a scornful look. Well, clearly she doesn't like me already. Leah gave the girl a wide berth when she checked her bed, avoiding her gaze.

The well-dressed man, who Leah was starting to think of as the leader, replied easily and confidently. He seemed unperturbed by the mocking girl's pessimism. Leah, however, had to agree with her. It didn't appear as if the person who kidnapped them would have left anything useful behind. The room itself spoke to the kidnapper's character. He was clean, organized, and smart, whoever he was. No, he'd let them know only what he wanted them to know. That much was clear from the TV set hanging from the wall. It had to be for some kind of communication. And that word...BROKEN. Leah stared at it when she was finished searching the beds. Nothing meaningful came to mind, and she frowned.

As she stared, she overheard the Jewish man and another girl with black hair exchange names. Thomas and Maele. Leah thought that it would be a good idea to introduce themselves, but she was far too shy to suggest it to the room herself. She hesitated, then strode purposefully to the well-dressed man. "Um, excuse me?" She waited until she had his attention before she spoke again, trying not to flinch at his gaze. "I think it would be helpful to know everyone's names. You seem to be in charge so far--do you think you could get everyone introduced? I'm Leah, by the way."

Fire... the sensation of her burning skin was something that she would never forget. At first Jekaterina was terrified of that strange sensation, but in next several she realized that in the end karma decided to punish her. Ankudinov sadly smiled, it was truly ironic death in flames looked like when you took into account how she killed her own parents by burning them alive. Ankudinov didn't regret it, they deserved it once she learned the truth... No no no! It wasn't right ! While deep inside Jekaterina felt unrestricted anger from her 'other' self, her main character was terrified and disgusted by her actions. She was nothing, worth less then dirt under someone shoe. What kind of right Jekaterina had to just sentence her own parents? Yes, horrible ones, but still parents!

Because you would never accept it otherwise. Once in your pathetic life you wanted to take care of the problem on your own...

Once she heard that voice she knew it was true and in the end Ankudinov didn't fight the sensation... She accepted her incoming death with sad smile on her face, while she burned alive and shockingly the only answer were the tears slowly dropping down her face. Once Jekaterina felt that the end was near, she ended up... in strange room surrounded by strangers. First instinct was to curl up and ignore everyone around.

PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE!

Jekaterina repeated in her head over and over again. Her insecurity, extremely low self-esteem and lack of confidence were clearly visible on her face. Ankudinov ignored people talking around and tried to calm down. Deep down she truly wanted to join their conversation, try to find some sort of closure, but it was impossible. Extremely strong fear of rejection and potential bullying stopped her in her track. Plus once she peaked a look towards them, she noticed how... pretty and handsome they all are. It was unnerving and unnatural! She was disgusting, ugly and even if she stripped, probably someone would puke in front of her instead of feeling arousal... Not that she wanted anyone to get close to her THIS way. She knew the feeling of intercouse to the point where she felt nothing. So she curled up and ignored the voices. Maybe it was a dream and they would dissapear. But for some reason she doubted that.

Maele and Harold searched the room in an attempt to find something out of place - but perhaps the most unusual thing they observed was how nothing seemed noteworthy at all. It's as if someone had built this room around them - there were no seams in the walls where hidden doors could be, no slots on the roof to drop anything down. This room was its own environment; nothing seemed to be able to penetrate it. At the same time, something was clearly off with the objects in the room. There were the beds that everyone woke up on, but also a few miscellaneous furniture pieces. A metal table in the middle of the room, a few night stands next to random beds. Some shabby looking rugs here and there.

When you looked at the objects, however, they seemed... unreal. As if they were constantly coming in and out of existence. You saw a lamp on the night stand next to Jess's bed; you blinked, and it was gone. But you weren't sure if there ever was a lamp there, or if you just remembered it slightly wrong, since you now see there's a lamp next to Harold's bed one spot over. It was as if some mist was clouding your mind from fully getting your bearings.

Anyone who searched the room came away feeling uneasy, uncertain and more vulnerable than ever before.

Carmen lie on her bed, fast asleep, knocked the hell out. It took her much longer than the others to wake up, she must've been a heavy sleeper! The woman's consciousness rose from the depths of her mind, a dreamless sleep, and once it surfaced to her mind, her eyes cracked open a little, the woman giving a soft, weak groan. At this point, she was still trying to make sense of the reality before her, not even realizing she was in a different place, as the cieling looked different last she recalled. Groaning gently, Carmen Chavana closed her eyes gently, still trying to summon the strength to pull her consciousness to the surface of her mind.

It took her a few seconds, but she was eventually successful. She opened her eyes and saw her surroundings. Seeing that it was not the motel she was at the last night she was awake, she knew something was up. She was hearing voices, and she saw the shadows of the others. She wasn't in her motel room, and she wasn't alone. Her mind raced... what happened? Where the hell am I?

She sat up, looking around. "Wha... what in the... fuck!?" She looked around, confused, and once again out of the many times in her life, very scared. She saw the large room around her, the isolating walls, and the prisoners there as well. Immediately, Carmen checked herself for her personal belongings, searching her black carpenter pants. No cell phone, no car keys, no handgun, no ammo. She was kidnapped, robbed, and imprisoned for the second time in her life. At this realization, she whimpered and put her face in her hands, falling back on to the bed. "Nooooo! God... damnit!" She nearly cried. "Not again! Fuuuu-uuuck!" She whimpered. This cannot be happening! She thought to herself, sighing heavily. "Uugghhh!" She groaned. She remained there during the time the other prisoners were talking and searching, but by the time it all happened, she sighed and sat up. "Man..." She groaned, getting up from the bed and stretching a bit.

She looked around, getting a sense of the surroundings, and the prisoners. She knew that the surroundings and the people captured would give her an idea of why she was here at least, this wasn't no ordinary prison cell. She was still wearing her clothes from last night, and she was in the presence of a diverse cast of other normally-clothed people. No jumpsuits. No bars. No guards, no wardens. Was she taken because of her past as a criminal? She was just released a month ago! She already paid a debt to society! Was it because of the man she murdered? Typically child rapists don't have criminal connections like that! That bastard had no friends, he lived alone and secluded from the world! Not to mention he deserved to have that .45 vent his skull... what he did to those poor kids was unimaginable. Like putting Carmen in a cell without any trial, explanation or even reading her rights for that matter! This was bogus on so many levels.

Carmen looked among the surroundings. Silent room... concret walls, creepy lighting. Standard, yet uncomfortable furniture... a cracked and broken TV up at the back wall. Metal table, no doors. That's right, no doors. How the hell did she get inside of this room then? How did anyone get inside of this room? Was she in purgatory? She promised to the good lord above that she'll try to redeem herself! Was this some kind of cruel joke from the divines? No, don't think about it. Find out what's happening... save these thoughts for later.

She looked among the prisoners and sighed. "Can any of you assholes tell me what the fuck is going on here? This better not be some sick joke or a prank or... those 'social experiments' those assholes on the Internet call them!" She shouted. It was quite obvious that she was angry, though if someone were to look a little deeper, it was her fear that fueled the said anger.