Member
Paging @Vixen58
Alarms. The droning sound was completely unfamiliar to the younger man, rousing him from his sleep and into a state of blurred confusion. This bed...it didn't feel right. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he realized it didn't look right either. Not that he had the faintest idea what that should be. Or what anything should be. Hell, he couldn't even recall his own name. Shifting into a more upright position, he rubbed at his eyes and looked around the room.
White. That didn't seem right either. It resembled more of a prison cell or a mental ward room, and to his best recollection, he felt he wasn't supposed to be in prison. Though once he began inspecting himself, he had suspicions to the contrary. Simple grey shirt and pants, with a blue patch on the top, and similar slip-on shoes. Coupled with the secure collar, even a saint would wake up thinking they were a prisoner.
The flickering of the overhead lights roused him from his internal contemplation, and as he stood from the bed he cast his gaze over the room around him. It was certainly more furnished than he suspected a prison cell had any right to be, so maybe this was some sort of mental asylum. Stepping over to the desk, he noticed a stack of disk cases rested next to a game console. "I guess I wasn't crazy enough for them to take away hobbies..." Reaching to grab the controller, he figured there might be some kind of name or profile logged in the console settings that might help clear something up.
The moment his hand wrapped around the controller, his entire perspective changed. No longer standing next to the desk, it felt like he was almost seeing from the "eyes" of the controller. His vision was locked looking upward at a younger man, who was acutely focused on the game he was in the middle of. This experience gave him a strong gut feeling he was looking at himself, though the lack of mirrors in the room had left him no way to confirm that.
The vision shifted again, this time his vantage point resting on the desk, facing towards the wall bearing the cell door. He could make out what appeared to be himself again, speaking to what he presumed was one of the guards of this establishment. Their voices were low enough he couldn't make them out fully, but he caught part of some kind of serial code. MB nineteen ninety-something. Vigorously working to commit that to memory, he barely noticed as the lights in the vision version of the cell went dark, before he came to in the present, the controller having slipped free of his grasp and clattering to the desk.
"What...the hell was that?!"
He was pretty sure touching game controllers wasn't supposed to show you visions of yourself, but maybe that's why he was here. That serial code probably had something to with it as well. MB-nineteen ninety had been clearly audible, but the last number and anything else was too quiet to hear. Turning to face the doorway on the other side of the cell, he noticed what was probably the oddest thing yet. It was open.
"Pretty damn sure that's not supposed to be like that..."
Stepping up to the door, he peeked his head out and glanced up and down the hallways. Nothing. Carefully creeping out into the hall in full, he could hear the sound of a voice. At first, it almost sounded German, and he found himself catching a reply in his throat. How in the hell did he know German? And that wasn't German he just heard, was it? He quickly realized the voice had finished their callout in English, and he rushed to let out a reply.
"Uhh..yeah, yes, hi. There's someone down this way. You wouldn't happen to be one of the employees, would you? I'm kinda confused about this whole...everything."
Alarms. The droning sound was completely unfamiliar to the younger man, rousing him from his sleep and into a state of blurred confusion. This bed...it didn't feel right. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he realized it didn't look right either. Not that he had the faintest idea what that should be. Or what anything should be. Hell, he couldn't even recall his own name. Shifting into a more upright position, he rubbed at his eyes and looked around the room.
White. That didn't seem right either. It resembled more of a prison cell or a mental ward room, and to his best recollection, he felt he wasn't supposed to be in prison. Though once he began inspecting himself, he had suspicions to the contrary. Simple grey shirt and pants, with a blue patch on the top, and similar slip-on shoes. Coupled with the secure collar, even a saint would wake up thinking they were a prisoner.
The flickering of the overhead lights roused him from his internal contemplation, and as he stood from the bed he cast his gaze over the room around him. It was certainly more furnished than he suspected a prison cell had any right to be, so maybe this was some sort of mental asylum. Stepping over to the desk, he noticed a stack of disk cases rested next to a game console. "I guess I wasn't crazy enough for them to take away hobbies..." Reaching to grab the controller, he figured there might be some kind of name or profile logged in the console settings that might help clear something up.
The moment his hand wrapped around the controller, his entire perspective changed. No longer standing next to the desk, it felt like he was almost seeing from the "eyes" of the controller. His vision was locked looking upward at a younger man, who was acutely focused on the game he was in the middle of. This experience gave him a strong gut feeling he was looking at himself, though the lack of mirrors in the room had left him no way to confirm that.
The vision shifted again, this time his vantage point resting on the desk, facing towards the wall bearing the cell door. He could make out what appeared to be himself again, speaking to what he presumed was one of the guards of this establishment. Their voices were low enough he couldn't make them out fully, but he caught part of some kind of serial code. MB nineteen ninety-something. Vigorously working to commit that to memory, he barely noticed as the lights in the vision version of the cell went dark, before he came to in the present, the controller having slipped free of his grasp and clattering to the desk.
"What...the hell was that?!"
He was pretty sure touching game controllers wasn't supposed to show you visions of yourself, but maybe that's why he was here. That serial code probably had something to with it as well. MB-nineteen ninety had been clearly audible, but the last number and anything else was too quiet to hear. Turning to face the doorway on the other side of the cell, he noticed what was probably the oddest thing yet. It was open.
"Pretty damn sure that's not supposed to be like that..."
Stepping up to the door, he peeked his head out and glanced up and down the hallways. Nothing. Carefully creeping out into the hall in full, he could hear the sound of a voice. At first, it almost sounded German, and he found himself catching a reply in his throat. How in the hell did he know German? And that wasn't German he just heard, was it? He quickly realized the voice had finished their callout in English, and he rushed to let out a reply.
"Uhh..yeah, yes, hi. There's someone down this way. You wouldn't happen to be one of the employees, would you? I'm kinda confused about this whole...everything."