#survivorsopen

[papcrandpcn-blog]

“ Here’s a notebook and a pen. ” Oscar adjusted the glasses she’d found while exploring. They didn’t truly have a purpose, but she found them very pleasing for her aesthetics. “ Write down everything you can remember about yourself from before. Things like your favorite singer, favorite food, what languages you remember... ” She trailed off trying to think of what else she could personally remember.

[justxray-blog]

Amongst the group of twenty-six, the man had worked his way slowly to the back, taking several steps in that direction every time he was free from anyone’s sight. What the hell is going on here? How are these people? How did we all get here? Where is here?

Looking down at his name tag for the hundreth time in the last few minutes alone, it still didn’t make any sense. X-Ray? Was it code for something? There were too many questions to answer and nobody seemed to have the answers. He carefully sat himself on a street curb, tucking his hands beneath his armpits. Anyway to make himself smaller and out of sight seemed to be his best option.

“This can’t be happening,” he whispered. “This has to be some sort of nightmare simulation.”

[rhiannonfields-blog]

He crushes a beer can within his large and scarred palm - a hiss releasing itself from the small indentation - and tosses it aside among aging floorboards. They’re mottled with dust, a clear indication as to how long time had stood still; withering away like the world beyond a glass pane window. Although he had surveyed the ghost town, squinted his dark eyes and clawed at every possible clue, Victor was as unknown as the world he had been born into.

Eventually, despite his lack of interest, a figure arises within his peripheral vision. The shade of grey is familiar, clad in a jumpsuit just as he, and his lips part to reveal a silver tongue and mannerisms doused in arrogance.

“Y’know, I’m all for the element of surprise, but forgetting my own damn name ain’t what I had in mind.” There’s a tilt to his jaw as the echo of strained vocal chords ricochet from wall to wall. “Funny thing is,” he gestures, pointed fingertip, at the large letters across his chest with little acknowledgement for what was embroidered across the other. 

Phonetic, he assumed.

“There’s some poor bastard out there branded Hotel.”

[papcrandpcn-blog]

The silence was only enjoyable for about thirty seconds before she began to want to fill the silence with something. Even screaming sounded appealing. But no one screamed, and no one spoke, and only her own footsteps echoed down the street. It was frustrating, and she hastily grabbed a snickers bar from the plastic bag she’d taken from the convenience store on Oscar Drive. The crunch of the wrapper filled some of the silence, and the candy helped fill her empty stomach.

She was in the middle of opening a bag of chips when she caught sight of a figure dressed in gray at the end of the street. Perking up, she shoved the chips back into the plastic bag, all the while vowing to find a clothing store and get a backpack, and ran up the street. It only took a moment to catch up but she struggled to catch her breath as she greeted this wonderful other person.

“ Hey. ”

[limatheliar-blog]

A face. Not one that she recognized, but it was human all the same and thus inspired momentary relief to billow up in the depths of her abdomen. How to approach this individual? How to draw from their well of knowledge and pluck out necessary information? Already she found herself inspired to milk the stranger dry of their usefulness. “Thank god. I thought I was alone,” she began in a falsely timid voice, testing the waters as her timbre echoed down the hospital corridor. The needle previously obtained burning a hole in one palm as she kept it flush against her lower back. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

[ofherocs-blog]

he wanted different clothes. the grey jumpsuit only made him feel like a prisoner, or someone stripped from their identity. technically, he had been stripped from his identity, and the jumpsuit wasn’t exactly helping. stumbling into an open shop wasn’t the most surprising thing for hotel that day. finding the store empty and dark also wasn’t surprising. considering the day he’d had so far (consisting of a mere one hour and twenty-three minutes, he’d been counting), nothing could surprise him anymore. he found clothes quickly, but once he actually had them in his hands, he felt hesitant about changing.

maybe he was supposed to have on the jumpsuit. was it a rule that whoever’d put him here had made? would something bad come to him if he took off the jumpsuit? he stood in front of a clothing rack, which was in front of a mirror and he looked up at his reflection. his face was tired and the stitched word on the jumpsuit over his heart seemed to pop out at him. he should keep on the jumpsuit, hotel was probably the way he was going to be identified. 

he looked down at the clothes in his hand he’d gathered, and then decided to pack them up. he’d keep the jumpsuit on for now, for safety — but he’d change as soon as there was a sign. “i’m following made up rules by nobody. that’s normal.” he sighed to himself as he walked out of the store onto the street, like he was just out on the town shopping.