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Zeroth Post
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Zeroth
Setting: 2020, somewhere cold.

Plot: You wake up in a windowless room with a single door, and a bucket to evacuate in.

You do not have superpowers. You do not know where you are. You only know that you went to bed like normal last night, and woke up here.

Welcome to the Cult

For almost an hour after you awaken, there is complete silence. The door is locked, barred from the other side. It doesn't budge. To make things worse, you've been stripped to your underwear. They didn't miss anything. You have nothing with you, no jewelry, no electronics, nothing that could potentially help you escape.

There had been rumors and even an article in the National Enquirer about a rash of kidnappings and disappearances occurring all over the world. But the article had been dismissed as nothing more than a journalist trying to make connections where there weren't any.

Cold metal; the floors, walls, and ceilings were made of impenetrable steel. Somebody had been planning this for awhile. And that chill. Where did it come from? It almost felt like you were standing in a refrigerator, or your room was in the middle of a snow storm.

But after an hour, shuffling could easily be heard outside the door. Then there's shouting, but it's muffled. These walls seem to be pretty thick, or soundproofed.

The voice and shuffling feet move closer to the door...
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As he heard the shuffling, he began banging on the door, hoping that it was someone or thing that could help. "Hello?" He began to scream, in hopes of whatever was on the other side of this door, wouldn't kill him. At this point, he could only hope for the best.
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The first thing that occurred to her was silence, it was an unwavering eerie quiet that told her she was most certainly not in her house. There was also an unwelcome chill. Kim sat up, blinking a dreary mist from her eyes as she looked around at her surroundings, then down at herself. She sighed. Given he rlime of work, and the sheer amount of people she pissed off on an early daily basis, it was only a matter of time before this happened, really. She stood to her cramping legs and grimaced in dismay, and rising terror as she realized she had been stripped, and the small switch blade she kept in her bra had been removed.

She heard a very faint yelling, likely muddled by the walls of her prison.

"Hello." She returned. A male voice. Captor? Prisoner? She couldn't tell. Quietly, she began to search for an exit. There was no obvious one so when she heard someone come near, she ran her fingers through her hair and sat down in the middle of the room, ready to gauge her situation. Perhaps it was the shock, but there was an uneasy calmness to her.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Infamous Empath
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The door to Arin's room unlocked silently, only to open with great speed and slam into the male prisoner's face. Then a man who appeared to be over 6-foot tall wearing a dark green ski mask rushed in and planted a thick-soled combat boot against Arin's chest, sending him flailing back into the far wall. The captor moved quickly, not wanting Arin to catch a glance of the exterior of the cell.

When he spoke, it was deep, and commanding: "Stay."

The man pulled a plastic baggy from his long dark brown coat and tossed it to Arin. Inside was what appeared to be a ham and cheese sandwich. The man then turned and left, locking the door behind him before Arin could attempt escape.

Kim would've been able to hear the guard shouting and the door slamming shut several meters down the hallway, but much like the voices a few seconds ago, it was muffled by the thick metal walls. Then, thirty seconds later, her own door opened, though slowly.

A man in a jet-black full-face mask, sculpted to look like a human face, stepped inside cautiously, holding a similar small plastic baggy, this one with a turkey sandwich in it. He wore an all black uniform, complete with bulletproof armor, a baton on his belt, and combat boots. He extended his hand toward the woman, offering the sandwich to the woman without a word, leaving the door cracked behind him.
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After the swift, rough action, followed by the locking of the door, he took a second to catch his breath again. "Could've been nicer." He said sarcastically. He now understood that he is a prisoner, but oblivious to who his captor is. Then he heard a similar locking sound down the hallway, which meant that he is not alone. He thought about how he could get their attention as he ate.
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Kim's heart belatedly picked up when she heard the noises from somewhere outside of her small world. Still, she had been through similar, albeit, a simulation that she signed a waiver for but she had been tortured and exposed to interrogation, so she knew how to withstand it. She took a deep breath as someone drew near and slowly opened to door.

She couldn't help the way her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Good morning," she said almost sarcastically as she hesitantly took the food. It was confusing. She was certain she had heard treatment a bit rougher, and the masked man left the door cracked behind him. She reasoned he didn't expect her to attempt escape. She decided to play that up and tilted her head lightly, watching his movements, looking him over. The baton could be an issue. There were bound to be more of him as well. "Is this about the Blackwell Case? I had no hand in it."
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Without a word, the guard turned to leave, locking the door behind him.

Four long, chilly hours passed, with no more sounds, no more visitors. However, every twenty minutes or so, there was a very slight hum from the ceiling above. It would last a couple of minutes and then fade away.

Once again, after the four hours, Arin's door opened and the green-masked tall man stepped inside. When he spoke, his accent placed his origin in mid-western US: "You are in the middle of the tundra, thousands of miles from the nearest town or person. There is no escape. You are now the property of The Sons of Winter. Tomorrow one of our leaders will visit you. Show respect. Or you will die."

With that, he turned to leave.

About a minute later, a guard in another black face-mask - presumably the same one who had come in four hours earlier - opened the door to Kim's cell. He stepped inside, tilting his head as he looked through his mask at her with curiosity. But he did not speak. He stood by the cracked door, feet shoulder-width apart, and his hands clasped casually behind his back.
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"Sons of Winter? What the he-" Before he could finish speaking, the door close. He ran to it and yelled? "Can I please have some answers? Anyone?" After minutes of waiting, he gave up. This situation was terrible. He didn't know why he was there or how he even got there. Now all he could do it wait...
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Angry was an understatement. She was asking with a mixed feeling of terror and helplessness and rage. There was nothing she hated more than being at someone else's mercy. Kim was trembling by the time she heard another interaction. She pressed her ear against the crack in the door. She couldn't hear words clearly, but she could hear someone she didn't recognize that she guessed was another prisoner.

Kim shot back but stayed on her feet this time. She crossed her arms over her chest, half in modesty, half in attitude. "That noise," she practically growled as soon as her door was opened. "What type of psychological warfare is it? What do you want?"
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"I am a guard for the Sons of Winter," said the man finally. His voice had a softer tone, even meek; his accent would place him somewhere more southern, perhaps the Carolinas. "We are a cult that worships The Purifier. He...purifies us of our...impurities."

It was clear that he was at the very least lacking in confidence, if not downright faithless in this cult's religion. Fear seemed to make his voice tremble slightly as he spoke.

Meanwhile, nobody else came to see Arin in his cell. However, Kim's door was ajar just enough, and the guard was speaking just loud enough, for Arin to possibly make out that they'd been kidnapped by a cult of religious fanatics.
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He heard a name, "The Purifier." He thought about who that could be. Possibly a god? Or priest of some kind? As he thought about it, he heard footsteps, or something that sounded like that. He needed answers.
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Had Kim been lacking in discipline, she would have laughed at his lackluster answer and lack of dominance over the situation despite being a guard. Subconsciously, her dark eyes cut to the open door and she grimaced. No, this had to be some sort of test... His accent seemed southern. How long had she been out? Long enough to travel what had to be at least ten hours. Or maybe he was out of place. She cocked her head back as though she were looking down on him.

"What? Am I a sacrifice?" She sneered.
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The guard snickered, lifting his gloved hand to his mouth, but remembering he had a mask on, so he lowered it. "Uh, I don't know ma'am. I'm just a lowly guard. Anyway, you will be left alone until tomorrow, when you'll meet one of our leaders."

He slowly backed out of the room, keeping his eyes on the woman as he stepped out into the hall. Outside was dark; there was no way Kim would be able to discern anything visually. And aside from his heavy footfalls that echoed into the corridor, there was no noise out there.

"I must go now."
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Kim can't believe he actually laughed. She glared at him, angry once more. "I don't get a bed? Even prisoners in worse cells get beds." She wanted to gesture, but she didn't want to uncross her arms in front of him. She cursed under her breath as he left but watched curiously as he left the door open. Her toes curled a bit as she stepped to it. The unwelcome and rarely felt emotion of fear took her again as she squinted in the darkness. Was it night or were they underground? She tip toed past the door and tried to look around again. She knew there was someone else, but frankly, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She jumped back in her cell regardless. No. She didn't yet know the way out and she couldn't risk running further into their clutches. She had too much to lose.
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He realized that nothing else would happen until the next day, so he decided to try to sleep. Maybe he would wake up from this twisted nightmare. "Maybe tomorrow." He said to himself. Laying there on the cold floor.
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Kim's door clicked into place and locked. Many hours later, after they had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, someone had brought each of them a ratty old blanket with holes and bugs, which smelled like it had been left under a moldy porch for several months.

Even more hours later, both of their cell doors unlocked and slowly opened inward, revealing the darkness outside. Still, there was no sound. Until suddenly there was.

From a loudspeaker came a rumbling voice: "Come out of your cells! Stand with your hands outstretched beside you like a cross!"
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He was shocked wake when the loudspeaker rung out. After a minute to compose himself, he complied and came out, arms outstretched, looking for another person. "So, what now?" He said aloud, awaiting further instruction.
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Kim glared at the blanket and killed the bugs that crawled out of it. She had just barely fallen back asleep when she jolted from the loud noise. She groaned and emerged suspiciously. Kim was hesitant to open her arms but she did, not wanting to be brutalized in some manner for disobedience.she finally looked to the other, glaring at him more than anything, as if her discomfort were his fault, or perhaps as she was trying to frighten him into looking away from her own indecency.
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Now that they were in the hallway, they would be able to see it in it's entirety. There had been no lights in the cell. The cell had been illuminated only when the door opened, by a single lamp in the high-ceiling corridor, too high for anyone to reach. The lamp had also been too high to cast anything but shadows on the walls, so Kim had not been able to see the exterior of her cell prior to now.

However, now they would be able to see just how dire their situation was: the ceilings were high, about 25 feet high; the corridor in which they stood had dozens of cell doors much like their own lining the walls; the hallway itself extended dozens of meters, curving slightly as if they were in the bowels of some circular missile silo. The walls were made of concrete and the loudspeaker was mounted by the interior wall at the high ceiling.

Then there was the sound of echoing boots marching down the corridor coming toward them. Coming from their left, closer to Arin's cell, a guard walked around the corner holding a baton. He looked similar to the one who had spoken with Kim, except his face-mask had a gash across it. And he walked and spoke with considerably more confidence. He was a lot huskier too.

"Keep your back against the wall!" he ordered. "I will not hesitate to beat you silly if ya move!"

He began frisking Arin, checking his underwear to make sure he didn't have anything on him.
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He complied, just wanting informtion, but he new that he couldn't ask. So he stood there and looked at the walls, eventually looking at the other prisoner, wondering where she came from.
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Kim's glare grew fearful. She pressed her back against the wall so tightly she was certain she would somehow fall through it. Kim watched with a bit of horror as the man also he'd captive went through a pat down. She turned her head to look around at her surroundings. Her stomach dropped at the sight ahead of her at either end. More cells. A cult? This was too much for her. She sneered again, this time at herself for not investing in a security system.
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