trusthell | Welcome.

You last remember feeling safe.

You don't know what caused that response, now that you think about it; you can't remember what you were doing before the warm, comfortable feeling came over you, a sensation somewhere between relief and the light contentment that comes with the knowledge that you're safe enough to sleep and god, are you ready to. It feels like you may have been sleeping for a while before this, even; your limbs are heavy in the memory, and you recall how difficult it was to open your eyes.

Turning your head is likewise difficult, it feels kind of like it's full of sand. Weighted-down by sleep. It's so much easier to remain still, and so you do, and before you haze out again you can vaguely hear a voice.

It's no one you recognize, and it sounds strange and vaguely distorted as you start to drift off again.

"Everything'll be fine."

There isn't an answer that you can hear; the voice speaks once more.

"...you ready?"

You don't remember what you wanted to say to that. Always, maybe. Or Ready for what? Or perhaps What's happened to me?

But none of it matters, because consciousness slips away from you too quickly for you to respond.

---

You wake up some time later; the comfortable, safe feeling from earlier certainly isn't dampened any by the bed you wake up in. Whether you like it soft as a cloud or firm enough to support the most finicky of spines, the bed you're in is nice, and it's pretty much exactly what you've been looking for in a mattress.

Shame the rest of the room is probably going to be a bit jarring when you wake up properly.

The room you're in is completely unfamiliar, all concrete and steel and almost nothing that makes it yours - but there's a trunk near the bed and there's what looks like a smartphone sitting on the trunk, and you might want to grab that before you leave the room. Trying to text or call out won't do anything for the time being, unfortunately, but it's something. A lifeline, maybe.

If you're looking to see if anyone is here with you, maybe you can find someone as you wander through the main corridor; after all, there are a few places to explore here, even if the bulk of the place is pretty much a straight shot down the center. If you're looking to gather, the dining hall is probably the best place for it, as it's large enough to accommodate all of you.

Wherever you choose to go, however, there are a set of rules posted in every room; the far wall of the dining hall, across from the entrances, also has a bulletin board with twenty-seven pictures, along with some...interesting information, posted on it. The board is large enough for all of you to look at it, but you might not want to try to get at anything posted there; just like the rules, there's glass in front of it, and it's looking to be extremely shatterproof.

Sorry about that.

There's one more thing you'll notice on your wanderings through the corridor – there are no windows, and there are no doors that can possibly lead outside.

Looks like you're trapped. Might as well get to know those that are here with you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'd be more concerned about the mysterious information than I would the mysterious picture, darling!

[...says the robot, who is wandering back in after getting up for a while and generally speaking not helping at all.]

Unless the picture was taken on your bad side - in which case, go ahead and be upset, you deserve to be.

[...The thing is, Speedwagon hadn't entirely connected the whole robot thing. So this might be a scene about to happen.]

How can you think about a bleeding decent photograph in a time like this? Can't you see we're stuck here with our information on display?

[...And it's not a bad photograph either, actually.]

I can't even remember where that photo was taken...

[...It really isn't a bad photo. Good job, you photogenic bastard.]

Oh, believe me, I can see that just fine. It's also not like any of my information was anything scandalous.

[Probably the first photograph in his life. And it's one he can't even remember. How's that for a kick in the face?

... No, really. A kick in the face and he's suddenly here. It's almost - no, it's pretty embarrassing really, when you think about it.]

"Entrepreneur" and a celebrity... you some kind of entertainer then?

You are correct, gorgeous!

[Here we go.]

Singing, acting, dancing...you name it, I do it.

Ah, an entertainer then. [Nodnod. No one would look that garishly pink if they weren't doing it for a reason.]

Unless you're here as a way of keeping us entertained, I'd figured you're stuck in the same predicament as we are.

Why does everyone assume that I'm part of the setting?

[...Probably because you're a fucking mechanical person wandering around a bunker like he doesn't have a care in the world, Mettaton, just a guess.]

I woke up in the same sort of hideous little cell as you, don't worry. I've got no idea what's going on, but I'll make it work for me.

Well, I can appreciate that. But you certainly look the part of being here, at least to me. [All that... metal. Hmm.]

That's an impressive costume, I'll say.

What?

[...Oh! Oh, that. Oh.]

No, no, darling, this isn't one of my costumes - you'd know those when you see them.

....What? [Is there an echo in here? Possibly.]

Well there has be something underneath that suit of yours, isn't there? [Speedwagon no....]

...Circuitry? More metal? My soul?

[...One of those things was not quite like the others.]

...I was thinking more in the sense of organs and all that.

[nani the fuck is 'circuitry']

Well, that's a little disgusting to ask about, isn't it! But no, none of that.

[do you regularly ask people about their organs

you are a very strange person with very luxurious hair]

[well not normally but this seems to be a very special case

and mettaton is very special.

and his hair is luxurious, thank you for asking.]

Then, if that's it... [???... !!!] Unbelievable... a living doll!

...Well, it's closer to-

[...uh]

...Actually, you know what? Sure. Yes. Yes! Something like that.

[That's how the red string connects in Speedwagon's head. Might be best to just go with it.]

What the hell... That should be impossible!

[...No offense.]

...Not really? Like I said, I have just as much of a soul as you do. Different, yes! But it's there.

[...Mettaton, please - ]

That's...! [Nnnnnnope. He takes a step back.] I'm not sure who you are, or rather, what, but I'm sure of one thing. You'd better not do anything with my soul then!

[He needs it for things!

And yes, he is overreacting. Or maybe this is the right amount of it.]

[...This is actually a normal reaction to an abnormal amount of bullshit, probably, and Mettaton is just going to be over here not helping - ]

What do I need your soul for?! I've got my own!

[Truly Speedwagon's greatest power is natural common sense.]

Because...! [...Hang on, actually he has to think about that himself.] I can't say what precisely a haunted doll would do to someone, but I could wager it would involve their soul.

Who said anything about being haunted?

[...I MEAN YOU AREN'T WRONG]

[HE'S REALLY RIGHT TO A DEGREE that's the strange part.]

That's just what they normally are in stories. A pretty doll, a child's toy, possessed by a spirit who wants to use it for their own ends. usually for the worst!

[...Then again.] But you, you say you're an entertainer.

I am! My creator made me to entertain people, that's all.

No soul-stealing required.

[...ahahahahahahahahahahaha well

there is an irony

but that's beside the point]

Hmm...

[Well... He's keeping an eye on you...!! probably.]

Well, you look as much the part as any harlequin.

Welcome.

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