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

[...Kamui isn't entirely unfamiliar with the concept of giant talking robots; there are robots like that in other worlds, but they're not usually this... robotic looking.

He's not sure if he's cool with the weird energetic cheeriness or if it makes him angry, but either way it's not as if he's about to punch a robot in the face.

Looks like he's going along with it.]

Fine.

[Kamui, at least try to look a little happier about it-]

Great! That's wonderful, darling, I appreciate it.

[...Hello there, short, dark and surly. Thank you for not punching the robot in the face!

Fortunately, said robot seems to have all the time and patience in the fucking world and a willingness to talk enough for both of us, so.]

I don't suppose you recognize anyone else here, do you? It seems none of us do so far.

[Short, dark, and surly over here doesn't seem terribly fond of that question, and there's a notable pause before he's actually willing to admit that-]

I don't either.

[...And that's a problem, apparently.]

That's either a shame or a good thing, depending on how you're looking at the situation.

[I mean, most people would agree this shit's not ideal.]

What were you doing before this, do you remember?

[...]

We were underground with a lot of water. My brother and I.

[Not counting that... Whatever that other memory was.]

We weren't in the middle of anything important, if that's what you're asking.

Well, you're probably the first I've spoken to that wasn't - everyone else seems in such a rush to get back to what they're doing. Like they're the only people with something to do with themselves! It's ridiculous.

[I mean he is absolutely in a rush to get back to what he's doing, but what he's doing definitely falls under business as usual.

...But more importantly-]

Do you have something to get back to?

Yes and no! I am the sole celebrity in the Underground, after all, and I do have my businesses to look after and no one to look after them in my stead.

But I wasn't doing anything too special when I was brought here. I was talking to a friend of mine? She had some sort of plan she wanted to tell me about and was taking forever in getting to it, as she does.

[...The sole celebrity in the Underground. Okay. Sure.]

The Underground?

[Does this guy live somewhere like this, is that the kind of underground we're talking here-]

...Yes. Let's say it's where monsters like me live and call it a day on that, shall we?

...You're not a robot?

[He's leaving the Underground topic aside, at least.]

[Uh.]

Why not both?

[Because how does that even- no. You know what.]

...Sure. Why not both.

[If that's the way it works in your world, why not. He's a celebrity robot monster.]

[He kind of looks confused for a moment, as though he isn't quite understanding why this is so difficult - he's not a total idiot, he knows when he's being humored - but after a second of I DON'T UNDERSTAND internal screaming something seems to click over.]

Well, I was created with a soul, darling - it's not as though I don't have life of my own.

[...AS THOUGH THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING.]

[...Celebrity robot monster with a soul.

How the diddly doodle does that even work--]

I wasn't questioning that.

[He is not here to decide if robots are people or not, but it's good to know that this one is especially people.]

Well, you seemed a bit perplexed, that's all!

[...METTATON YOU ARE NOT DOING AS GOOD A JOB AS EXPLAINING THIS AS YOU THINK YOU ARE]

It's the first time I've heard someone gleefully call themselves a monster.

[...And also you are a robot, and apparently you have a soul? Did some person put their dead lover's soul in a robot. Is this what happened.]

...What else would I call myself? I'm not human, obviously.

Why don't you tell me what a monster is instead?

[Since obviously you don't think this is something we call complete abominations or horrible people that have done terrible things.]

Oh! They're nonhuman people, darling, made out of magic instead of water and blood and...organs? And things.

[Science!]

Our bodies are connected to our souls as opposed to anything physical. That's the main difference. That and appearance, of course.

...So you're made of metal and magic.

[And a soul?]

Correct! You get it, sweetheart!

[...SAID WITH ALL THE BOUNCING ENTHUSIASM OF PAT SAJAK TELLING YOU WHAT YOU'VE WON

WELCOME TO WHEEL OF FUCKING FORTUNE, BABY]

[...You know what, okay. That makes a whole lot more sense than whatever he was thinking.]

Do you call everyone darling or sweetheart?

[Man are those words weird coming out of his mouth.]

I do, yes! Or gorgeous, that's another one. Beautiful. Things like that.

As long as I'm not special.

Welcome.

b

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