PROJECT: Absum

You ignore the sigh.

Who cares if it could be a serial killer, you want answers, and you won't get them flopping about and not asking questions.

"Who are you?" you ask, starting with the basics. So many questions, but it wasn't as if you could ask them all at once. One at a time.

The man's smug, pleased expression did not change a single bit. "The Game Master. Your GOD, to be precise."

Oh great, not only were you in some weird prison cell, this guy was a nutjob. Whoop dee do. The others in the other cells seemed to be taking in this answer as well.

The girl who'd protested only scowled. "The fuck?" It was obvious she was pissed off, and the other teen had resorted to stomping off to one of the corners of his cell, huffing and obviously annoyed.

The Game Master, whoever the hell he was, only continued. "Welcome to Absum, hell on earth. For you, at least."

You couldn't get a single word out, as he added.

"I'll be seeing you all later, so enjoy your recreation hours. Or loathe them. Whichever you prefer."

And with that, he was gone.

Great.

Juuuuuust peachy.