[COLOR=darkgray][i]The toddler in the box gazed out in horror… Darkness consumed his sight. He struggled to keep silent. The devil devoured. [hr] The next child returned to his bed, rubbing his rear end as tears filled his eyes. There were only three left for the ‘Auld Scalder’ to consume, and then things would get worse. Much worse. Banjo looked over to the other two. Jennifer’s eyes looked wide like saucers, she glanced at her foot locker in regret, there was nothing to be done now, it was too late. She’d never done anything like this before. Never even thought to get in trouble. Banjo recognised the look on her face. They’d toss her locker. She dare not even move towards it now. Find the two gobstoppers she’d stolen for herself and her younger brother from the local deli. He'd been beaten for them and hadn't even got to enjoy them yet. For a reason he never understood. Just as every child before her had already taken a half dozen ‘bites’ from ‘Auld Scalder’, but her fate would be different. With the culprit found the leather would find far more of her flesh. Her rear, through the thin flannelette pyjamas, would be lit up like a Christmas tree, and if past cases were any indication, there’d be no sleep for her that night. He could still remember the whimpering of the boy who they’d caught on the first night they’d been through this. How long was he going to be stuck in this Hellhole? Prospective foster parents weren’t even shown to him. Was that even allowed? Beating minors with a leather goddamn three-strap piece sure as Hell wasn’t. Not that he had any recourse for that… Hell, where would he even go if he issued that complaint? What year did they bloody think this was? As the heavy feet fell closer, Jennifer whimpered, and pried her wet eyes from the foot locker. He dropped from his bunk. [color=darkgoldenrod]“So you finally got to me, Huh?”[/color] Dark faces turned to him, from the girl’s bunk who was next in line. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Took ya half the bloody night. Surprised none of these jokers didn’t dob me in well and truly before this… Or did they, and you just wanted to keep beating your way through kids arses, ya pair-a pervs?”[/color] The dour faces on dark faces turned a darker shade still. Humourless. Cold. His footlocker was seized. The contents upturned. The invasion of privacy met only with a shake of the head and a laugh. [color=darkgoldenrod]“You reckon I’m stupid enough to just hang onto the evidence? HAHAHA! Mate… they’re long gone.”[/color] He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, pointing at it. The two dark grown figures looked at each other, and satisfied that the confession kept them from wasting any more time on the task at hand, grabbed the small boy by each arm. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Hold up… hold up… You’re not gonna straighten my shit up? What kind of turn down service do ya call this?”[/color] His heels slid forward as the pair dragged him away. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Well, you’ll get no bloody gratuity from me…”[/color] He was brought before the Resident. Auld Scalder was brandished, tapped in the palm of the other hand. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Ah, ya found it. Been lookin’ everywhere for that. I’ll just take that off ya hands and be on me way then…”[/color] The grip on his arms was tightened, as he was cast further into the shadow of the seemingly growing Resident. Too late to back out now, anyway. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Three of ya. To haul off on one kid. How pissweak must you lot feel, eh?”[/color] The sound of the strap, and the boy’s wails echoed much louder than from any of the half dozen that night. It seemed someone wanted to prove their arm wasn’t pissweak, if nothing else. Banjo walked on tiptoes from the calves down, with a tight grimace, as he made his way back to his bed. As he got there he looked up. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Ya jokin’ me?”[/color] [color=white]“Tidy it up.”[/color] The two grown men who awaited him said, referring to the upturned foot locker. Banjo stuffed his tongue deep in his cheek, as he considered his predicament. His rear end hurt so much it radiated heat. He was pretty sure it had actually lifted strips of flesh. They’d worked him for a good few minutes. If he took another serve from telling them to go fuck themselves, would they work the same torn up area? Would sick bay actually do anything about the open wound? [color=darkgoldenrod]“Ya not jokin' me…”[/color] His eyes flickered up with spite, as he clucked his tongue and sighed. Turning the foot locker back over and beginning to dump the contents back inside in a haphazard fashion. At the conclusion he slid the box back and gestured to it. Until, content that whatever point they’d attempt to make had been made, the pair moved off. Banjo sighed and fell into his bunk belly down, as the lights went off and the quiet and still fell upon the room. Banjo sniffed and his eyes felt wet, even as he tried to blink the moisture away. He twitched and jumped as a figure appeared from the darkness. Jennifer put an arm over his upper back and hugged him. He couldn’t relax into it. He sniffed. How much longer was he going to be in this goddamned place? [hr] Silence was absolute in Paisley's History class. The rail thin man walked up and down the rows of desks. The tension in the room as always, was palpable. And his decision to teach from a mobile position, never static at the head of the class, only exacerbated things. After a term on the French Revolution, this education-bloc had turned to the American Revolution. If the Butler didn't pull him out of this school, the next revolution would see one of Paisley's or Banjo's heads on a spike... A familiar flicking sound, resulted in hushed shuffling as every student's head turned around to see which it was today. The unspoken tension in the room heightened even further, Banjo knew what it was, before he even looked. Paisley lifted the lighter, and today it was the cigar. Banjo turned back to his desk, and internally psyched himself up. He stood up. [color=white]"Sit down."[/color] The thin man's voice barely raised above a hoarse whisper. This wasn't what he wanted. But good. Fuck what this dessicated skeleton wanted. Banjo thought to himself. The smirk crossed his face. [color=darkgoldenrod]"Y'know what... I'm never going to America, so why the fuck do I give a shit if they had a revolution?"[/color] Paisley's face held the same pallor it always had in times like this. The same it always would. Banjo's held defiance. In the face of the inevitable, which both knew was coming. [/i][/color] [center][color=darkgoldenrod][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][img]https://i.imgur.com/fnUOHKB.jpeg[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Southern Plateau, Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean - Present[/I] [I][/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][b]Welcome Home #2.041:[/b][/COLOR] [I][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/2qeYY4SxrPLyGCdCXL6tbg?si=omJEjRboSqeolAhYWm8bpA]Horror Movie[/url][/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=darkgoldenrod][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]Calliope - [@PatientBean][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=darkgoldenrod][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I]Under Water, Above Board[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent] [color=darkgray] Calliope hesitated at the door. She turned and looked over to Banjo and Gil. [color=F796A9]"So we just....go through our door?"[/color] Was she stalling? She seemed to have pushed through some of her prior anxieties, to something else, but perhaps she needed a little more assurance. She gave Gil a meaningful nod and then looked at Banjo. [color=F796A9]"I'll see you on the other side? I love you."[/color] [color=goldenrod]"Love you, too. Remember what I said. The way out is through. Whatever it is. Whatever we see."[/color] His words affirmed her. She could push through. She was stronger than she knew. He just wished she believed it as much as he did. [color=goldenrod]"And yeah, I'll see you on the other side, too."[/color] Calliope turned and pushed open her door and stepped through. He watched her go. Then sighed and looked at his own task that lay in front of him. Banjo stepped through the door with a surprising amount of ease. [i]This isn't real. None of it. Stand by to be fucked with. Whatever it is.[/i] He walked down hallways filled with the empty desks of students. Crisp and sterile. Presumably the layout of the Foundation's facilities again. Or an approximation by whomever programmed this. As he walked the hallways though, the classrooms began to look different. Bigger. Colour added to the decor. And more familiar. Or was it to give the illusion that he was smaller. To take him back to an old-- That classroom was painfully familiar... Banjo picked up the pace to a trot, leaving the memory of the scent of burnt flesh and cigar ash in his wake. As a sneaking suspicion set in as to who or what he could expect to cross paths with. [color=sienna]“G’Day…”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“Jessie fuckin’ Christmas!”[/color] Banjo jumped back about three feet in surprise. Mamili Motlop’s uncle from years ago. [color=darkgoldenrod]“You bloody dug deep on this one, eh? A bloke I knew for a few weeks, years ago?”[/color] He spoke to the sky, as if a divine force or the programmers of this digital Hellscape were watching on. [color=darkgoldenrod]“What, are ya here to tell me I’m a disappointment? Am I that hard up for male bloody role models, you reckon this counts as a father figure? I suppose I should be thankful they at least had the sense to outsource it and not try and squeeze Jim-Bob in that role… or Heaven bloody help us, Tad…”[/color] Something was off about his appearance, and not just the fact that a Darwin native tribal elder was over ten thousand kilometres from home in an augmented reality environment. No. Beyond that. Something was off. Banjo just couldn’t think of what it was. [color=sienna]“I’m not here for that. I was led from the veil of The Dreaming to be here as a help.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“Hmm. Somethin’ tells me this ain’t that kind of game…”[/color] Banjo eyed him skeptically, looking over the Cleverman’s appearance. [color=sienna]“For some, no. But then as I once told you… sometimes the audience is equal part of the message as the telling.”[/color] Banjo nodded in recognition. [color=darkgoldenrod]“New girl. Whatsername. Amma.”[/color] He said, considering the message and how it. [color=sienna]“You’re not surprised.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“That thing back there with the training robots. Still felt, I dunno, a little pedestrian. Like, I dunno. Like busywork. I mean a couple Gils went belly up, but it kind of felt like the usual kind of problem solving for the Trials. Just... you know… a bit higher stakes, granted.”[/color] [color=sienna]“Busywork?[/color] Uncle asked. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Yeah, y’know, like when you get sent to the Principal’s office and they give you some meaningless worksheet or assignment to keep you out of their hair while they actually deal with something else ‘important’...”[/color] He looked at ‘Uncle’ who was listening but it seemed like he hadn’t caught the analogy. [color=darkgoldenrod] “Of course you don’t… Well, it feels like we got pushed to a corner, whilst this place deals with what they really wanted to focus on. The décor too… Foundation layout… That’s not for my benefit.”[/color] He stopped and thought on it, soaking up what he’d seen. From what he’d heard around the campfire the Foundation could be… rough around the edges. But if what he’d seen here [b]ACTUALLY[/b] pertained to their newest teammember’s experiences in the place, and her reaction to it when they first got in here suggested that was the case... He got quiet. That train of thought didn’t bear more thinking about for now. Not productive. Wait-- [color=darkgoldenrod]“Except there was one room back there…”[/color] He remembered, thinking back to a few rooms back. [i] … The only way out is through … [/i] [color=darkgoldenrod]“Damn it.”[/color] He turned around and looked back down the hallway at where he’d come from. There was a half fallen fluorescent light, hanging off of one remaining thread, that was flickering and sparking back down from the way he’d come, towards the old classroom he had recognised. Just in case he'd missed the hint of the initial ominous vibes. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Yeah sure. Wasn’t bad enough the first time, I guess.”[/color] He sighed. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Let’s do this, I suppose.[/color] He turned to ‘Uncle’ and he was gone. A cackle of ambiguous laughter hanging on the uncomfortable atmosphere. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Alright… so you’ll be on your way then. Guess that happened.”[/color] As he looked back down the hallway, sparking and threatening in intent as it was, it struck him that this was more mundane than terrifying. Right down to the conversation he’d just had, with the figure he’d just sort of been reunited with. It also dawned on him what it was about the Cleverman's appearance that seemed 'off'. He was bigger. Banjo was smaller and younger when they'd met, he'd since grown considerably, but 'Uncle's appearance had grown proportionately so he was still towering over him. Keeping him feeling more 'familiar'. A comfort. [i]Playing to overconfidence..? Is that what they’ve got on me?[/i] Taking the quiet opportunity he checked his surroundings and drank in whatever those meagre surroundings provided him. His body turned jet black and a small corona encircled him, there was only secondary artificial light kept low, and the air conditioning was quite cool. His breath quickened and halted and his synapses flared as his body re-knitted. He held his form for a little while, not knowing when he’d next get the opportunity, and knowing there wasn’t as much of the day to draw on in this dark place, before letting his form revert back to his usual state. The time and space to think was starting to make him second guess what lay in waiting ahead for him. [i]This whole thing was… what..? Just some Foundation move on Amma? Well, you saw how she took things at that assembly. They’re making some kind of point or taking some kind of shot.[/i] His mind kept racing as he slowly approached the classroom with trepidation. [i]No. That doesn’t sound right. This whole thing is just about her, and nobody is taking a shot at any of the rest of us? Even if it did seem to get the desired reaction with her piss-boltin' off at the start.[/i] He could see a sliver of light through the open classroom door now. [i]You mean ‘you’.[/i] He stopped and stepped to the side to get a clearer angle to look through the door and what may be awaiting him inside, without getting closer. [i]That’s your ego talking. Can’t bear to think it has nothing to do with you. That fake Calli at the start said it about her other, but it could’ve easily been about you. Can’t stand to not be seen as the centre of attention.[/i] He didn’t see any movement. Couldn’t hear anything obvious either, not from out in the hallway. Maybe if his hearing were up to Haven’s lev— [i]This is what the design is. It’s to make you overthink. Get in your own head. So get out of your bloody head, and get in the room![/i] He clenched his fists together and strode inside for whatever awaited him. And he found himself in an empty room. No ghosts. No enemies. No Paisley. And then he could hear it. Faintly, from the front of the classroom. A portable AV set on a wheelable TV tray, facing away from the direction of class, which muffled the speakers as they spoke of the events of the screen. He turned back, half expecting some horrifying imitation of Paisley with a cigar, or flamethrower or some other poetic equivalent to appear at the back of the class, awaiting the lowering of his guard. Seeing nothing, he slowly decided whatever puzzle this was, it’s solution was awaiting him at the front of the room. Projecting the rules of engagement away from him. As he approached he could hear it before he saw it. The sounds of screaming. He rushed to the front of the class and saw the television split twelve ways, four rows of three columns, with two blank screens along the bottom row. One on the left was a view of himself looking at the television from above. He waved an arm up, to get a sense of where the camera was. But all of this paled to what was on the other screens. It quickly became apparent what the scream was. A winged girl was strapped to a surgical table in the middle column of the top row. He recognised the sound of Haven’s own voice in her screams, and the sound of a bonesaw. The angles didn’t provide the best view of the winged girl, but just how many winged girls did he know? – and the screams certainly confirmed it. Aurora took a punch from a figure, and was held aloft by the neck by a redheaded girl, in the third column's middle box. In another box Lorcán was fighting a version of himself and losing, his face being scorched whilst he screamed. Calli fought for her life against something so monstrous he could barely even recognise, in the box opposite Banjo's on the right. Teeth sank into her arm and she screamed. The screams combined, a witch's brew of pain, angst, horror and growing torment of everyone he cared about being poured over him. He jumped back from the screen. His sniffed, his breathing increased. His heart pounded in his chest. He was getting lost in his quickening breath. He sniffed again. His eyes started scanning the backgrounds of the scenes in feeble desperation, if he could recognise where they were maybe he coukd find them. In... this place... where appearances mean nothing. He turned away from the screen and the screams grew louder to compensate. As if chasing him. [color=white]“Sit down.”[/color] The thin man’s voice, barely above a whisper. He could hear a hint of pleasure in the situation rasped from the gaunt figure. Somehow it penetrated the screaming. It was a familiar voice, and the only one he'd expected to hear in this room. [color=darkgoldenrod]”Get ‘em out. Now.”[/color] Banjo growled, trying to regain a grasp of some sense of control. [color=white]“You have nothing to barter. Nothing to offer. You’re not in control here.”[/color] Mirth caught in Paisley’s throat, as the corners of his mouth upturned, and specks of saliva flew from his mouth. [color=white]“Now. Sit. Down.”[/color] The old thin man was right. He had no play. Except for that itself. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Sure... But not until they’re out.”[/color] A forced leer started to creep across Banjo's face. He worked to quell the pounding in his chest, and the obvious effect it had taken on him in his breathing. He wasn't sure how convincing it looked, but it was the only play he had. As the screams wore on. With intermittent breaches of bonesaw mixed in.. [color=white]“If you’re worried about missing what’s on the tv, you needn’t be concerned. And as for your compliance, it was just requested for ease. But you never could do things the easy way.”[/color] A desk behind him swept Banjo through to his own chair further back in the class, and a wall raised up from the floor, which contorted and twisted in shape until it produced a wall sized screen of the same thing he’d just been watching. He was corralled to his desk, and then the back wall itself started to move. Paisley stepped through a back door, which locked behind him, and opened a slide to a multiplex window to watch proceedings. [color=white]“No. You won’t be taking the burn for anyone else. That’s not how today is going to go.”[/color] The walls began to close in, above Banjo a fluorescent light burst, whilst others flickered as walls gradually closed in. Amidst destroyed lighting and desks getting splintered as they were pushed together beyond what they had left to give. He scrambled upon his own desk to buy himself some more time, before his legs would be crushed in his seat. As he'd turned away from the screen to do it the screaming torment got louder in his head, again as he did. He felt like everything was collapsing on him. His view was dragged back to the screen in time to see bindings tighten around Amma's middle and her throat as she gasped out. Katja found herself drowning in blood as flames licked at her heels. And even hers... even Katja's screams... added to the concoction of trauma pumping into his head. Rory grunted with exhaustion as flames consumed everything around him. A Gil getting jumped and dog-piled by about a dozen other Gils whilst some strange new gal watched on. Baxter was being cut and hurt by the same red head who tormented 'Raw. Katja's bloodcurdling bellow sliced through louder. The bonesaw... Banjo dropped to a knee and gasped. More air. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer. Gotta have more air. His breathing at a fever pitch. [color=white]“You don’t get to point the gun at your own face and eat the bullet to spare seeing anyone else hurt.”[/color] Paisley’s voice rasped. [color=white]“Here. Now. You’re going to watch all of your friends die, and then you’re going to join them in discovering whatever afterlife awaits you.”[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod]“You never talked this damn much. You were just... a sadistic prick.”[/color] He barely squeaked out between breaths. [color=white]“Well, yes. Because I’m not really here. Or are things really starting to blur for you, are you that far gone already? No matter. Doesn't help them, anyway. Nothing you do. Nothing you say. [b]Nothing[/b] is going to make me give them up to you. You'll watch them die now. Maybe if you got here a little sooner. But then you always made your way to class in your own time as well...”[/color] The bonesaw and the screams were louder. Somehow, whenever he looked away, the sounds, the screams, the angst came in louder. [i]Just... need to breathe... That's all. Breathe... And think...[/i] [color=white]“You really had some of those younger kids fooled. But this is exactly who you always were. The biggest pretender of them all. For all your talk. All your bluster. All your machismo and 'I don't care' for the sake of being cool. You're just a scared little boy who doesn't want to see anybody else get hurt. Who's so broken that you'd rather take it yourself first, just so you don't have to live to see it.”[/color] Darkness started to fall upon him as more lights had burst from the closing walls, and the chilled air made him feel worse. Every part of this was curated for purpose, to maximise the anguish. His heart felt like he it was going to explode in his chest. The walls closed in, the cold, the dark. Haven’s screams. Calli was grabbed by some kind of a tongue. She cried out. Hers were different. Calli's torment cried out to him. Rather than just another ingredient in the pot. It was as if it was targeted. Directed. To him. Even though he wasn't there. [i]So I've gotta live... to get her out... If nothin' else...[/i] He put a knee down on the table and took a few deep breaths. No plan yet. No way out. No problem to punch into submission. [color=darkgoldenrod]“I'm not goin' out... to a prick like you. Even one who just looks like ya. No way, no how.”[/color] And then his table tipped on one side as it to was getting crushed by the closing walls. 'Paisley' laughed at his enfeebled defiance. The two walls were elbow width apart now. He pushed off in a sudden panic, and his face smooshed against the TV wall as Haven's wings were torn through in a bloody mess of bone, sinew, blood and feathers as her screams dimmed amidst the cacophony. ‘Paisley’ looked on in as much sick joy as the original may well have had. The dark. The cold. Wait— the cold..? The curated cold. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Oi. Paisley. Fuck your American Revolution right off. Vive la Banjo, Numbnuts.”[/color] He lept off the table and bounced off a wall, before bouncing off the next, back higher again to the first and jumping for the overhead air conditioning vent. Scrambling like a rat up a drainpipe, he could hear the Paisley simulation swearing behind him as the tv wall was crushed against the compressed furniture below. He pulled his legs up, just as the walls closed together beneath him. It wasn't until he did, that the enormity of everything he'd just seen actually hit him. [color=darkgoldenrod]“Holy-- Holy fuckin' shit... Haven-- Haven's dead..?”[/color] He hugged his legs and leant against one of the walls in the tight air conditioning vent, as the adrenal kick wore off and he once again found himself gasping for breath. [/color]