Fantasy Hotel California: the new Host

[Axeykins]

A little twist to the original story of this old old rp. Biiiig changes are coming, are you all prepared my lovelies?

This is the world you've chosen this time.

These are to be the consequences.

Can you handle them?
​

 

[Axeykins]

After everything. Every last tiny thing he'd done to them. An eternity of torment of crushing them down to nothing more than pathetic whelps.. then denying them even death as a release. And they do this? Give him...a name? His very own name, his. It was so laughable. So insurmountably hilarious and pathetic and....kind. No matter how deep he searched in all of them there wasn't a single ounce of hate in the one before him. Anger, frustration, sadness but. Something even deeper than that. He felt a pain, his own pain reflected back.

Understood.​

What is this feeling....this. Deep in my core? So foreign, strange, new. I've never felt such a thing before. Not in all eternity.
Something so...such a. What is it? I feel so, what would they call it? What is that word? Those words?!? Is this...warmth?

"Hey....are you alright?" Sisceal shook the Host's shoulders. The strange creature of black oil and a porcelain husk had frozen before him. Long inky claws stuck within the priest's chest just...stopping at only an inch or so in. And pulling away even. "Hey...Obsidian?? or do you want the name we gave you now?"

"Y...you need to go now. Leave, all of you. Get out."

"What?" Sisceal backed away slowly. A sickening popping and cracking echoed down the halls. The room shifting and changing, breathing. Pained undulating motions as Obsidian wrapped his arms around himself as his body snapped and crunched. Digging his hand deep deep within the confines of his own chest. Digging in with all he had until he grasped something tight within his hand. Gasping painfully for air.

"G...go....wi..with the others. Sisceal. T...t..take it." A greasy hand ripped from the Host's chest as he held a small key out to the man. Causing a deep roar through the hotel that shook it's very foundations. Obsidian coughed and sputtered in response. His body twisting and contorting against his will. Hand clasping the key in a deathlike vice as he fought to keep it held outwards towards his guests.

 

[egghead]

His heart should have been hammering in his chest. Cold sweat should have been bedewing his forehead. His breaths should have been rapid and shallow, but they weren’t, because he wasn’t breathing at all. Instead, Glen stood still as death, fear tethering him to a floor stained with black blood.

Even the redhead looked shocked, her lipstick-slathered mouth forming a perfect O-shape. Watching somebody die probably wasn’t a first for Rachel, but remaining completely silent for more than a minute definitely was.

The monster writhing at their feet no longer resembled anything remotely human. There wasn’t a trace left of the hotelier they had all come to know and loathe. It was an abomination, a nightmare crossed over into a reality that never felt entirely real to begin with. Its screech, a shrill and harrowing sound, brought down an avalanche of memories. None of them were too pleasant. All of them would have broken a grown man’s mind if it hadn’t already been broken decades ago.

But that didn’t matter anymore. By some miracle, their freedom now dangled within arms reach. This was the end of a very long bad dream.

Momentarily released from the shackles of terror, the zombie stepped forward. His leg muscles twitched, resisting the urge to run away. “Sisceal,” he screamed, voice cracking with hysteria. “What are you waiting for?! Take the goddamn key!”

 

[buzz]

That small key was what would end everything they’ve gone through, but the thought didn’t bring her much comfort. Perhaps she was used to the Hotel and it had become her new home, or perhaps she was too scarred to expect anything good until it happens. Katrinne was nearly breathless from anticipation. She was so fixated she couldn’t hear the maddened ramblings of the man beside her ear until the distant yelp from a certain cadaver jolted her back into consciousness.

The man in rags next to her looked disfigured in terror, voice reduced to a whine as he kept trying to stir a response from the demon. “What do we do? What do we do?” he breathed down her neck, “Why isn’t he taking it? What is that?” His eyes bulged and his floury skin glistened with sweat. Once a meticulous hairdo, his bangs stuck to his face, hair so overgrown it now resembled a dirty mullet. Freedom would mean everything to him. Unlike the woman he glued himself to, he still had memories of life before entrapment. His body twitched and fidgeted as he debated running to snatch the key for himself.

“Shut up, Vincent,” Katrinne croaked at him, a routine phrase that couldn’t be more emphasized in this edition.

She kept her gaze steady on what was unfolding before her, unable to believe the end of the purportedly immortal Obsidian was here. For some strange reason on the verge of tears, Katrinne echoed the rest of the guests’ sentiments and called out to their de facto leader, “Sisceal, we have to leave!”

 

[Axeykins]

It took the multiple screams of their ragtag group to snap him out of the daze he was in. Staring in shock and awe at the contorted shell before him. There was sadness in the golden eyes fading deeper and deeper into the dark. Gathering himself Sisceal finally took shakey steps forward towards the poor man. Wrestling with the death like vice forced upon his hand to get the key out.
"Thank you. And I'm so sorry" The priest leaned in to embrace the figure quickly. Draping his old rosary around it as well as he did so. "Let's go!! Come on! Everyone to the doors!"

He made a break for it. Though in his sentimental moment had not been the best in judgement. The black ooze left on him from the embrace grew rapidly and made it's way towards the key. Clenching onto his forearm and hand tightly and easily and audibly snapping the bones. In a cry of pain the key flung from his grasp onto the ground. "Get it. Somebody get it!" He cried out as the hotel roared again . A vortex began picking up around the room. Whipping debris and furniture about as it grew in strength.

 

[egghead]

Though barely audible, the tiny clink of metal drowned out the universe. Instead of screams or the hotel’s rampage, all he could hear was the sound of his freedom hitting a trash bin rim. It teetered, threatening to fall back into the void, never to be seen again.

Glen lurched forward instinctively, his entire skeleton snapping with the motion. One thought surfaced: this is it. This was the moment where he proved himself as a man. As he reached out towards the key, a smile touched the corners of waxy lips. He was finally going to do something useful for once in his miserable (after)life!

Then he tripped.

Mama had always told him that untied shoelaces would be his downfall, and she was right. He nosedived straight onto the floor with the same grace of a dolphin. He even slid a little. The impact alone sent the key bouncing away from the group, but it was the harsh wind and room spasms that carried it further.

“Nooo—“ Glen wailed before being interrupted by a chair slamming against the back of his head.

 

[buzz]

She barely began to breathe heavily when the ensemble halted, their intrepid leader plummeting to the ground too fast for Katrinne’s reflexes to catch him. The she-devil would be more concerned with the visible contagion consuming him if there wasn’t another thump on the hardwood floor. As she had expected, the key was still loose in the growing cyclone that they now found themselves in. Her abundant and wiry hair flew in all directions but managed to not obscure her vision as she leapt from her position. Worn, stocking-clad legs heaved against the gusts to trudge through what felt like winter slush but was probably a certain incapacitated comrade. She flung herself on whatever lie beneath her, outstretched hands clamped above an otherwise skidding key. It was sticky, but she kept a tight grip. “I got it!”

Vincent wasn’t the quickest of the bunch. However, he trailed close enough to arrive on scene and on time to see his broody partner belly flop on an unconscious man. She squeaked something, and Vincent discovered Sisceal was spread on the floor as well.

He lifted a DIY-manicured hand to his rogue chapped lips, stifling a facetious snicker. His snickering was short-lived and ceased with a sharp inhale. “Um, Sisceal, did you get a bad tattoo or something?” He grimaced gently to avoid creasing his skin anymore than it already has under the collapsing roof of the Hotel. He pointed a chipped nail at the muck.

 

[Axeykins]

"Nows not the time Vinny." Sisceal winced as he gripped his crooked arm gently. Sliding himself up carefully as he could with the growing storm within the room.
It was proving more and more a challenge as the winds took a violent turn for the worst. He turned to see where his comrades were in a panic as a side table caught him in the chest. Providing that extra boost that knocked him off balance and sent him flying up into the vortex.

 

[egghead]

A yelp escaped from the catacombs of Glen’s throat when a heavy weight crashed down on his chest. He tried to yell, but instead swallowed a mouthful of long black hair. At that very moment he realized who was laying on top of him: Katrinne. The demon who tried to murderize him on more than several occasions. Warmth radiated through her dress, caressing cold dead flesh. It burned, the flames of hell itself scorching yet another sinner.

Glen screamed, shoving away the temptress. He broke free from her spell just in time to watch the priest ascend to the heavens like a drunken angel. The sight probably would have been majestic if he wasn’t spinning around so much.

“Would somebody get us out of this craphole already?!” Rachel squawked, her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice muted. “This damn wind is messing up my hair!”

“What about Sisceal?” Glen shouted back. “We can’t leave him!”

“We can and we will!” She punted the ghoul in the ribs to emphasize her point. “You saw what happened to him! We’re gonna be next if we keep standing around with our thumbs up our asses!”

Dropping to her knees beside a literal spawn of satan, she wasted no time in seizing its claws. After giving both Katrinne’s hand and the key a twist, an opening materialized. A massive double door unlike any other, crystalline and intricately carved, as ancient as the building itself. It swung open, casting blinding white light into the room. The other side of the portal reflected everyone’s individual worlds, their lives before Hotel California.

At long last, they were free.

 

[buzz]

Nothing good lasted in this place, so it wasn’t long until Katrinne felt claws clamping into the fleshy parts of her hand. She looked at the head of red hair and immediately yelped, either from pain or bashfulness, “What do you think you’re doing?” There was little time for an answer when she felt her wrist jerk into an unnatural position, tugged by the redhead’s vise-like grip. Immediately, the corners of her eyes were flooded by light, and Katrinne realized what had happened too late. “Don’t go yet!” She yelled at no one in particular, likely convincing herself more than the others. She dropped the key for the scavengers and instead rushed to Sisceal’s side, or where she last thought she had seen him. “Sisceal?” She called, multiple times in frantic search.

“Look UP!” Vincent screeched, rushing to Katrinne’s position like a morally bankrupt quarterback. Then, without warning, he scaled the demon. His pointy dress shoes planted themselves on her unusually broad shoulders and, as if this had happened before, Katrinne instinctively held his haute couture kicks in place. “Sisceal! Your arm doesn’t look, uh, good, but grab my hand, you crazy old man!” He stretched his arm out in the flurry, a twig amidst a hurricane. “I don’t know if this is going to work!” Katrinne shouted up to the beauty queen stacked on top of her but was only met with a high-pitched “Shut up!”

 

[Axeykins]

Sharp spires of black and red instantly shot up and around in front of the opened doors. Surrounding those near it menacingly. Beating like a heart. Doing the same for everyone else in the room. Keeping them all on lock down. Nobody was going to leave this way. Nobody! It would kill them all first. It was not going to lose. It never lost and never would.

“Stop it! Stop!” Sisceal screamed as the hotel tore apart and swirled around them in a frenzied storm and his dear friends lives instantly under threat of immediate termination. “I uh….I…I’ll take over! Do whatever you want to me, take anything you want!” He cried out in desperation. A blackened tendril wrapped him up tight. Holding him firmly in place as the debris battered him. “Do whatever you need to to make it happen, but let them go. I’m begging you.” Tears streamed down his cheeks.
The storm died down instantly. Dropping the suspended Sisceal to the ground but harshly. Leaving him to scrape himself off of the floor as he stared down…something. A glowing light from the abyss lighting his face.
“don’t” Obsidian’s voice creaked out weakly from his husk. Only to be quickly silenced by a jagged black line through his chest, shattering through it like glass. Creeping its way up to the priest. Extending out and beckoning to seal the deal.

“Only if you let. Them. Go.” He spoke loudly and firmly. His voice echoing in the deafening silence of the room. The line convulsed rapidly as it seemingly fought over the notion of all its work being lost but subsided to the click of a door. Sisceal nodded and extended his hand in return. The tendril lurched forward and gripped it tightly. Sinking itself deep into his skin.
His heartbeat sped up rapidly, pounding loudly against his inner ears. Making the world spin. His entire body felt white hot. Clutching the sides of his face his breathing became erratic. Gasps and wheezes as he tried focusing on the faces near him. Trying to anchor himself to something to stop the spinning. Sisceal was frozen in place in the room, mere feet away from the door that had been perfectly cleared at least again for the rest.
Burning, burning, burning. Everything was burning. His fingernails dug deep into his skin as he watched images flying by his very eyes. His friends, his time at the hotel, …some…white haired child…her image quickly burning away and crumbling away to ash. All of it melding into that all too familiar oozing tar. So much so that he could feel it, see it leaking from his own face and down his arms. Burning it all.

 

[egghead]

Once the slimy barbed wire had been disposed of, the only obstacle left was Sisceal himself. As darkness incarnate took over his body inch by inch, the less he resembled a friendly face and more of an obsidian statue. It was the ultimate test of loyalty: you either stay behind on a sinking ship with a friend, or abandon him to save yourself.

Aside from shuddering gasps, there was the sound of skittering footfalls. Rachel had reached a conclusion much faster than her fellow guests. She wasn’t going to kick the bucket in some creaky hotel with a bunch of nameless nobodies; her death would be legendary, a day to be remembered for years to come. Still, despite her impossibly inflated ego, something stopped the redhead from leaving straight away.

Looking over a freckled shoulder, she gave the others a nod. “It was fun while it lasted. Adieu, mes chéris!”

With a wink, she stepped through the portal...and waltzed right back into her own personal slice of paradise, The Blood Bucket. Around her, an ongoing battle between chaos and mayhem raged on. Bar stools and martini glasses colliding, bodily fluids of every colour conceivable flying everywhere, screaming in tongues both ancient and alien. It almost seemed like her imprisonment was nothing more than a hallucination, a vivid daydream she had only just snapped out of.

Inhaling the stench of blood as if it were fresh mountain air, Rachel sauntered behind the counter. After grabbing a bottle, she fixed two glasses of the house’s strongest whiskey—one for herself and another for Sisceal. She figured he would want his poison to taste like poison since up there in heaven, the drinks were watered down.

—

As soon as the harpy disappeared into the light, Glen followed suit. He circled around the priest, not once looking at him, too ashamed to face someone he couldn’t save. Instead he focused on the portal, its inviting glow, and the liberty it promised.

Much like the redhead had done, he lingered in the doorway, hesitation anchoring him in place. Despite reminding himself that his ally’s sacrifice would be in vain if everybody stayed behind, the guilt remained overpowering. Why, of all people, did it have to be Sisceal? Why was a shambling zombie allowed to leave when the preacher had a family and much more waiting for him on the outside?

“I’m sorry,” Glen muttered, screwing his eyes shut before leaping through the door.

After that, nothing. No more pain, no more suffering. No sights or sounds, thoughts or feelings. His broken body and mind, all of it dissolved in an instant. Death without the agony. Everything Glen could have asked for, if he wasn’t already a fading memory.

 

[buzz]

The stack of humans collapsed, unable to do anything for their friend. The demon tried to make sense of what was happening but second-in-command Vincent was more focused on the clambering footsteps and cackling resonating from behind them. He turned to look and was instead blinded by an enormous wall of light. “Is that heaven?” He asked the already shellshocked Katrinne on the floor beside him, despite knowing she wouldn’t be able to answer.

He left her with a scoff and walked towards the opening, eyes closed.

The next thing he could remember was lying on top of a raggedy bed. The dawn amid London smog peered through thin fabric curtains, acting as the only light source in an otherwise dark apartment. He sighed, finally remembering. Again, he closed his eyes, then opening them again to make sure it was real. Vincent stared at the mirror planted on the ceiling above him, smirk creasing the soft skin around his chapped lips.

He lay there, for several minutes, until rolling out and into the bathroom. “Long time no see,” he cooed at the shower stall and various beauty products awaiting him.

Katrinne still couldn’t find the courage to move, to leave. Whether it was in her best interest or not, she wanted to know what was happening and what she should do. Her suspended countenance shuddered only to accommodate the streams of tears that followed when she stood up to walk away. The mystery of the light was daunting for someone of her kind, or of any kind, but there was nothing left for her in the Hotel. She kept walking.

Her skin, made bloodless by the eternities spent indoors, immediately bronzed in the heat. She braced herself for a hellish scolding from the archfiend who birthed her existence. Then, amidst the darkness, came the faint sound of techno music. It grew louder and louder until it pained Katrinne, though whether her body was still intact remained a mystery to her. Then, her vision returned, and she wished it hadn’t. A mass of bodies writhing and a familiar redhead pouring drinks behind the counter—she buried her face in her hands and screamed, as loud as she could, which meant nothing in this discotopia.

 

[egghead]

Before she could taste a single drop of liquid gold, a voice reached through the supernatural squeals and squelches to yank her out of reverie. After an eternity of being subjected to that horrible sound, there was no mistaking who it belonged to. Katrinne.

Rachel lifted her gaze from a glass of whiskey to the demon slouched in front of her. She appeared to be either crying tears of joy or having some sort of mental breakdown. Regardless of the actual reason, her lips stretched back into a grin wide enough to prominently display every fang in her mouth.

“Aww, look who followed me all the way home,” she cooed. “You just couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

After a couple snorts, she grew silent, the same silent she became when Obsidian was defeated. The end of an era, the toppling of an emperor. All of it brought down by love and compassion instead of guns and bombs. How embarrassing. She probably would have felt sorry for the poor guy if he weren’t such a chump.

“Here,” she finally said, sliding the second drink across the bar. “This one’s on the house. You look like you need a drink.”

 

[Axeykins]

He watched as some figures left the hotel. Their faces familiar yet so strange to him and being swallowed up by a painfully blinding white light. They faded quickly from his sights. He wanted to call out but what would he even say to them? Could he?....Did he even know them? He reached out, words right on the edge of his lips, but the light was already gone.

And he was alone.



Straightening himself up he took a glance around. An all too familiar setting around him. Least it felt so. It felt like home.
That's what an odd nagging in the back of his mind told him as well. Pushing him along, a whispering of a voice. Incoherent and babbling in many tongues of madness but he somehow understood. Telling him all he needed to know, talking to him sweetly, tenderly. Numbing his mind until a warmth and ease set in. Straightening up his hair and clothes as they walked. Getting in close and personal as it always has to make him prim and proper for the job like a doting parent sending their child off to school for the first time. The same job he'd been doing for years now! Psht, it would never just let him be, but he didn't mind.

"I will be fine, what do you take me for? Some blathering idiot?" He chuckled as his hair was teased and pulled into it's usual sweet frumpy pompadour of silvery white by a small blackened tendril. "No guests have escaped me yet, yes I know I've lost track but I have not failed you yet! You must trust me." He waved further attempts to fix him up away. "It has been years since I've dealt with any yes, but that doesn't mean I'm rusty. Perhaps simply you haven't found the right matches yet for my methods? Maybe....perhaps. I may be able to determine that?" He rubbed his chin contemplatively as he closed his eyes to listen to the sweet hum always in mind. "Please let me chose this time? You won't be disappointed." He begged softly like a child.

 

[buzz]

She leaned a reddening face into cupped hands, the blood boiling behind her skin. Her arms were planted into the cold counter and goosebumps soon surfaced with a shiver. She hoped what felt like an intense fever dream would soon end, but the nudge of a glass suggested this was what she was doomed to.

Her compressed body loosened, unwrapping itself like a very sad and unwanted Christmas present. With one sweeping motion, she grabbed her drink and slung it at the woman behind the counter, the only remnant of the Hotel in her life.

“This is your fault, isn’t it?” She croaked, saliva splattering. “Maybe if you didn’t grab the key, I wouldn’t be stuck here!” Katrinne rose from the bar stool, her outline still stamped onto the soft cushion. “Maybe Sisceal wouldn’t be dead!” With a resonating shout, she flung herself over the bar counter and lunged at the bartender’s neck.

 

[egghead]

There was no time to mourn the death of a good hair day. Before Rachel could process what was happening, hands tangled around her throat, extracting a strangled gasp.

Adrenaline shot through the redhead’s veins, pumping her with strength to fend off the sudden attack. Using that rush, she grabbed the devil by the wrists then yanked her both downwards and closer. After that, she didn’t hold back with a swift punt in the gut—a little trick she learned in a bar fight.

Now freed from the chokehold, Rachel reeled back, holding her bruised neck. “My fault?!” she rasped. “The only reason any of us got out was because I opened the damn door! We’d all be dead if it weren’t for me!”

 

[Axeykins]

He could feel the tiniest of tugs through all space and time. A thread of something constricting inside of him. It was a disgusting feeling but....also intriguing. He could feel it buzz wildly in the back of his mind. It was displeased, trying to pull him away to more possibilities but he could not help himself. It was far too curious why he felt such a tug.
"Please? May I investigate? Take it in, see what this feeling is? I feel multiple but this one is strongest! It suddenly surged! I can feel a way to pull it in, it stings and burns with a rage and angst." A toothy grin crept across his face. "I feel with this one I could please you more than ever. and perhaps it could lead to more!" He begged like a small child to it. His caretaker. There was a long back and forth between them before it subsided with an irritated pain to his chest.


Sisceal's grin widened. It was time to shine. To test his prowess with the power given to him. Taking in a deep breath he closed his eyes to concentrate. Focusing on the building rage and hate and desire. Trying to find the thread to pull on. Unravel the very fabrics of the universe and drag this thing unto his domain. Space warping around the hotel, it's floors and walls creaking as it was pulled in every direction and warped beyond recognition. Threatening to make it snap.

 

[buzz]

There was a lot more might in that small exterior than she thought. The fit of rage grew hotter when her abdomen caved in, flinching at a sudden jab of blunt pain. The banshee didn’t dare let it show. Whatever was being shouted back at her was blocked out by reddened ears and heaving lungs.

“Why am I here?” She screeched, now vomiting the existential questions plaguing her mind. “Why’d you drag me to your shitty bar?!”

She grabbed a nearby bottle of mystery milk and cracked it on the counter. The jagged remnant of the bottle now at her disposal, she smirked a smirk of unparalleled overconfidence. “This is for Sisceal,” she muttered before sprinting towards her unwilling opponent.

A raised arm swung the makeshift weapon towards the redhead as she stepped, but a floor made slick by mystery milk disallowed any follow-up. Instead, she skid on the floor like an out of control bowling ball.

——

Steam poured into the apartment as soon as the bathroom door swung open. Humming an uncomplicated and probably made-up melody, he dried his wet locks with a pristine towel. Vincent opened the closet and, to his surprise, nothing had been stolen! He grabbed one piece after another and threw them onto his bed. Standing there nude, body glistening from the glow of the window, he looked on at the assortment. “Time for some matchy-matchy!”

 

[egghead]

Watching her adversary nosedive onto the dirty ground probably would have brought a smile to Rachel’s face if a disease called anger didn’t already spread throughout her entire body. The mere notion that such an inept screw-up got the drop on her was enough to drive the raging narcissist wild.

Rachel wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Snatching an unopened bottle from the shelf, she slowly approached Katrinne. After savagely biting off the cap, she proceeded to dump its contents all over the demon’s sprawled out form.

“You want someone to blame?” she barked. “Blame yourself.”

Tossing the now empty bottle aside, the redhead then produced a matchbook advertising her own bar. She ripped off a single stick and, in one strike, ignited it. A tiny sliver of hell itself, hovering over a creature covered in 190 proof alcohol. If the devil wanted to go home so badly, this was the fastest way there.

“Everyone got what they deserved back there, hon. It’s time you got yours.”

 

[Axeykins]

Sisceal grit his teeth and gave a solid tug on the threads. Reality warping around him more as he pulled these thing towards himself. Finding more than one that happened to be tagging along as well. Attached to one of them was...something? He couldn't feel much from that but it was stuck to it almost like a tick so he supposed that it would just come along as well now to his abode.

The more the merrier anyways right? It was so empty in this big place now. All other guests had come and gone on him already. Either swallowed up into the hotel or leaving him in their own ways....or breaking as he tried to figure out exactly how his powers here worked or how strong they were as well. Needless to say. He went through a lot of guests. Hopefully these new ones he was bringing in were more durable.

 

[buzz]

Hands placed on his hips and arms outlining perfect triangles on either side, Vincent stood as if he was a warrior basking in the glory of victory. He momentarily broke character to brush dark locks from his forehead. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled the air of a pristine central London loft, relishing in the calm. But, just as he was getting into it, a sour stench forced a cough out of the man.

Softly closed eyes shot open and couldn’t believe what was before him. His body was no longer warmed by the sunlight. He closed his eyes and opened them, ran his hands over his still damp face. This was real life.

The floor was a shimmering marble that left his legs shaking with coldness. His feet were bare. “Hello?” He called meekly, voice cracking with fear. There was something familiar about what he was seeing but it far too distant to be recalled, or perhaps he was in denial.

•

The bridge of her nose throbbed with pain. Mystery milk soaked the front of her dress and dripped from her face as she pushed herself off the ground. Amidst the deafening techno, the sound of friction and kindling was not left unheard. It knotted her insides and froze her movement. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she seethed through clenched teeth, liquid rolling off moving lips, “you don’t know what you’re doing!”

The only distraction from the uneven standoff and the thought of returning to her horrible origins was the floor below her. Her only wish would be to look at her killer in the eye instead of an opaque puddle on the floor. She stared at the visible texture of the floor and the grime accumulating in every crack. With one blink, however, that changed. The surface was cold and reflected whatever light source that shined upon it. This could only be one place, or rather one thing, but she avoided completing that thought. The dizzying bad music was replaced by silence, which was shortly broken by a high-pitched yelp.

“Oh my god, what are you doing, lady?!” The voice echoed and made the demon wince. She felt the urge to tell him to shut up but fought it off, knowing a delayed damnation was somewhat better. After turning her head to look at the hysterical source, she somewhat began to rethink that idea.

 

[egghead]

Consciousness returned with the vengeance of a migraine. The first thing Glen became aware of was pain; an incessant ache pervading every single muscle in his body. A few additions to the list of complaints was a desert-dry mouth and a cramping stomach that wouldn’t stop groaning. On top of being both starving and dehydrated, the effects of a century-long all-nighter slammed into him like a brick wall. It didn’t help that he also smelled bad, an infernal mixture of B.O and swamp onions. It was every downside to being alive crammed into a single shoddily-wrapped package.

Wait a minute. He was...alive?

Glen pressed two fingers to his wrist. When a pulse was felt, he gasped, drawing air into lungs that were no longer rotting and full of maggots. Still unconvinced, the ex-carcass groped his own chest, trying to find the hole that burrowed through it. Nothing but warm squishy flesh, the kind without gaping wounds. This body was not only as fresh as a newly-formed clone, but it was also in worse condition than ever before.

Glen couldn’t think of any other place where these kind of “miracles” happen. “No,” he wheezed. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!”

Panic shot through the old man, triggering an uncontrollable spasm. His legs unfurled from a squished pretzel to kick open the door directly ahead. Crawling out from the world’s tiniest wardrobe, he fell face-first onto dusty carpet. Displayed mere centimetres away was a greeting card with “Welcome back!” written on it in fancy cursive.

Everything had been set up so mockingly deliberate. Making everyone think they escaped and giving them a brief taste of freedom, just to drag them back into the cage. There was only a single entity that could mess with people’s minds so expertly, and that would be Obsidian.

Hot tears filled empty eyes. “It’s not fair,” Glen muttered, burying his face in his hands. “It’s just not fair.”

—

“SHUT UP, VINCENT!” Rachel shrieked, so loudly that the words echoed throughout the ballroom.

Though the matchstick died with a fizzle, her temper flared. She had been duped, cheated, bamboozled; the worst part was that she didn’t realize it until the curtains closed.

“So, this was all one big charade, huh?” Saying the truth aloud made it easier to digest, but not by much. The urge to throttle something consumed the redhead, to the point where her fists visibly shook. She was an active land-mine, set to explode at the slightest nudge.

“That was a good show you put on, Obsidian!” she yelled, at nowhere yet everywhere. “Why don’t you come out here so I can tell you exactly what I think about it?”

 

[Axeykins]

"Oh motherf....shite." He hissed out a string of curses as he rushed down the halls. "Damnit all. All of that practice and all these years and I missed!" He ground his now pointed teeth irritatedly as he sped off to locate where they had all gone. Seemed like mainly the ballroom but then there was some oddball off in another room. He didn't remember pulling that one in but ah well. More fun to be had for him!

He straightened his hair up nicely and regained his composure once more. Bringing his features back to something they may consider more..."normal". Didn't want to scare them off right away with a mouth full of fangs and wickedly long smile. Not yet, that was to come later. For now, he threw the doors open widely to greet his new arrivals in a proud and boastful fashion. Chest puffed out forward and all.

"WELCOME ALL!"

 

[buzz]

He jumped like a scared stray, the fear dawning the realization that his private parts were actually public. He closed his legs and covered what needed to be covered, hoping for the nightmare would end, though he knew it was too real to be another weird dream. He wished he could fade into the background, weaponless without his accoutrements and favorite pumps. If he was naked, he had to own it! How did she know his name, he was about to ask, but the swing of ballroom doors froze even his slightest movement. He stared at the figure, his heart plunging further into his stomach acid with every passing second. He remembered everything now, and now desperately wished he could forget.

•

She rolled back onto her feet, dusting off a dress that now looked more like a rag, stretched and torn from tussling with a certain long-nailed witch. Katrinne could only look on as she went off on a crazed tirade, provoking a sad, broken husk. The banshee didn’t acknowledge the other resident of the ballroom, her old friend Vincent.

When the man she thought was long gone emerged from double doors, she thought she was being subject to another illusion and another trick. He seemed unusually jovial but that didn’t concern her. Tears welled in an otherwise stern combatant, “Is that Sisceal?” She walked towards him, fighting the urge to run instead. “I thought you died, Sisceal! Why are you still here? How did we leave? What happened?” Her infinite questions rolled out like toys on an assembly line, an almost parental show of concern.