Hall of Infinite Doors
When next you open your eyes you find yourself in utter darkness, sitting upright on a chair with your arms and legs bound to it. A searing pain stabs through your head, a violent upheaval torments your stomach. You vomit on yourself.
You hear footsteps coming towards you in the distance. A light begins to glow from one of the walls and you can see the broad-shouldered woman silhouetted by the glow.
"Welcome back," she says to you in a mock-friendly tone, the kind you might hear from a bitter ex-lover. You try to respond, but your tongue is unusually thick and uncooperative, and your words come out as a moan.
"Listen," she says to you. "We know who you are. You're not one of us. And if you are not one of us, you are one of them. The question is not about who you are, but why you are here?"
Again you try to speak, try to tell her that you are where you are because you had a shotgun pointed at you, but your tongue will not function properly. Your feeble attempts at speech remind you of the b-rate zombie movies.
"I want you to think about it for a bit," she says. "I'll be back."
"Water," you manage to say through your thick tongue and parched lips.
"When I return," she says. All you can do is watch her walk away and think.
What the hell did you do to deserve such treatment? You never should have entered that fucking hallway.
As you think on how to clearly explain what happened to you, you are met with the understanding that no matter how you put it, your story will come out completely preposterous. You walked through a set of sliding elevator-like doors, tumbling through the air for what seemed like an eternity, only to land on the ground unscathed? You're having trouble believing it as you recount it. How can you expect her to.
You come to the conclusion that you are fucked. There's no way around it, really. When she comes back, and you hand her your story... You're fucked. The best thing you can hope for now is that no one tortures you.
As you sit, the glow spot on the wall fades until the darkness swallows the room.
There is no way for you to track how much time has passed, but it is quite a long while before you hear footsteps approaching you in the distance. It sounds like two or three people, you aren't entirely sure.
When they activate the glow spot, it nearly blinds you. There are three of them; the broad shouldered woman who seems to be in charge, the friendly guy who brought you down here at gun point, and an older man you haven't met.
You look to the woman. She has water. She holds it out before you, but doesn't pour it into your mouth. Her eyes have a frightening manic depth to them.
"Are you ready to tell me what really happened now?" she asks.
Your voice cracks as you repeat your story again. She seems frustrated and begins cursing aloud at you. "How many times are you going to hand me this bullshit line?!"
The older man speaks timidly from behind. "Tina," he says. "He may be telling you the truth."
She whirls back on him with intensity. "I didn't bring you back here so you could get involved, old man. You begged to see him, and now you have. Be gone."
He looks down to his feet but doesn't move. "There is something you should know," he says.
"What can you possibly know?" she asks.
The old man looks up at her and shoots her an enraged glare. "Mind your tongue, child. I was running this place before you were conceived. There are many things that I know, and many things that you must learn."
Tina's shoulders slouch a bit and she looks a little humbled. "Go on," she says.
"I would like to speak with you in private," he tells her.
There is an awkward period of silence before she concedes. "Very well," she says, walking with him out of the room. Your eyes follow the bottle of water as she leaves.
"Keep an eye on him, Joe," she says.
"With pleasure," Joe replies.
Their footsteps trail off into the darkness and you are left alone with the asshole that brought you down here and beat you over the head with his gun. If the ropes that bind you should ever loosen, you vow to give Joe back some of what he gave you.
"I hope you're enjoying your stay so far," he says to you with an amused mockery in his tone.
"Fuck you," you say. If there was saliva in your mouth, you would spit at him.
The butt of the gun come in at you and smacks you hard across the jaw, your face moving to the side so fast with the impact that your neck cracks a bit.
"You watch what the hell you say to me, punk," he says.
You laugh maniacally at him. He hits you again and knocks you back, your chair falling back to the ground with a loud crack of wood splitting. Despite the splitting wood, you find that the chair is still intact. Joe picks you back up to a sitting position and you note that the rope is a little looser after the impact. Joe is close enough to your face to bite him...
You hear footsteps coming towards you in the distance. A light begins to glow from one of the walls and you can see the broad-shouldered woman silhouetted by the glow.
"Welcome back," she says to you in a mock-friendly tone, the kind you might hear from a bitter ex-lover. You try to respond, but your tongue is unusually thick and uncooperative, and your words come out as a moan.
"Listen," she says to you. "We know who you are. You're not one of us. And if you are not one of us, you are one of them. The question is not about who you are, but why you are here?"
Again you try to speak, try to tell her that you are where you are because you had a shotgun pointed at you, but your tongue will not function properly. Your feeble attempts at speech remind you of the b-rate zombie movies.
"I want you to think about it for a bit," she says. "I'll be back."
"Water," you manage to say through your thick tongue and parched lips.
"When I return," she says. All you can do is watch her walk away and think.
What the hell did you do to deserve such treatment? You never should have entered that fucking hallway.
As you think on how to clearly explain what happened to you, you are met with the understanding that no matter how you put it, your story will come out completely preposterous. You walked through a set of sliding elevator-like doors, tumbling through the air for what seemed like an eternity, only to land on the ground unscathed? You're having trouble believing it as you recount it. How can you expect her to.
You come to the conclusion that you are fucked. There's no way around it, really. When she comes back, and you hand her your story... You're fucked. The best thing you can hope for now is that no one tortures you.
As you sit, the glow spot on the wall fades until the darkness swallows the room.
There is no way for you to track how much time has passed, but it is quite a long while before you hear footsteps approaching you in the distance. It sounds like two or three people, you aren't entirely sure.
When they activate the glow spot, it nearly blinds you. There are three of them; the broad shouldered woman who seems to be in charge, the friendly guy who brought you down here at gun point, and an older man you haven't met.
You look to the woman. She has water. She holds it out before you, but doesn't pour it into your mouth. Her eyes have a frightening manic depth to them.
"Are you ready to tell me what really happened now?" she asks.
Your voice cracks as you repeat your story again. She seems frustrated and begins cursing aloud at you. "How many times are you going to hand me this bullshit line?!"
The older man speaks timidly from behind. "Tina," he says. "He may be telling you the truth."
She whirls back on him with intensity. "I didn't bring you back here so you could get involved, old man. You begged to see him, and now you have. Be gone."
He looks down to his feet but doesn't move. "There is something you should know," he says.
"What can you possibly know?" she asks.
The old man looks up at her and shoots her an enraged glare. "Mind your tongue, child. I was running this place before you were conceived. There are many things that I know, and many things that you must learn."
Tina's shoulders slouch a bit and she looks a little humbled. "Go on," she says.
"I would like to speak with you in private," he tells her.
There is an awkward period of silence before she concedes. "Very well," she says, walking with him out of the room. Your eyes follow the bottle of water as she leaves.
"Keep an eye on him, Joe," she says.
"With pleasure," Joe replies.
Their footsteps trail off into the darkness and you are left alone with the asshole that brought you down here and beat you over the head with his gun. If the ropes that bind you should ever loosen, you vow to give Joe back some of what he gave you.
"I hope you're enjoying your stay so far," he says to you with an amused mockery in his tone.
"Fuck you," you say. If there was saliva in your mouth, you would spit at him.
The butt of the gun come in at you and smacks you hard across the jaw, your face moving to the side so fast with the impact that your neck cracks a bit.
"You watch what the hell you say to me, punk," he says.
You laugh maniacally at him. He hits you again and knocks you back, your chair falling back to the ground with a loud crack of wood splitting. Despite the splitting wood, you find that the chair is still intact. Joe picks you back up to a sitting position and you note that the rope is a little looser after the impact. Joe is close enough to your face to bite him...