yogsloth: Can't wait to see how this comes together.
I'm a cargo-short man myself, and to hell with the social consequences.
You expect me to do something with this information? Damn, give me a minute.
--- You stand before a mirror in a darkened room, red candle in hand. You know how this goes. The candle is lit. You say the name three times. A shudder, total darkness, and then the initial feeling of peace.
You are standing in the brightly light corridor. The places looks alright, but for some paint peeling off the walls. The corridor stretches, seemingly forever, in both direction. You look down and begin to feel shame. You are wearing cargo-shorts. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is... Well, really it's not that bad. You can feel a breeze.
Besides that, you're barefoot, shirtless, tattooed, and lugging a backpack. You don't remember what you're here for. Maybe this can help. You place it on the floor and unzip it. Reaching inside you find a gun. You're not quite sure what sort of gun, but you know it's not a pistol. It looks like the sort of thing that was designed to do bad things to a lot of people at once.
Your head begins to throb. Each short, sharp stab is accompanied by a phrase spoken in a distorted man's voice.
"Essential cleanse."
You hear another voice, but it's so faint.
"Essential cleanse."
You hear a click.
"Essential cleanse."
The door before you opens. You see a face, horrible and distorted. Before you know what you're doing, you've launched yourself at it, shoulder first. The thing, to you, is all tentacles and incoherent shouting. It seems scared, and you're not sure if its neon red colouring indicates something. Maybe it's actually angry.
"Essential cleanse."
Getting up and putting your foot on the alien creatures chest, you take stock of the situation. The living room you are standing in is nice. All polished glass and steel. Too modern for your taste. You realise you're still holding the gun. The thing has given up squirming. It's breathing heavily.
"My names Mike?" It says. It sounds like a question.
Out in the corridor people are peering out of their doorways at you, eager to see what the commotion is all about. What you assume is Mike's family starts appearing from various doorways. They seem upset. You level your gun at them. Off in the distance you can hear sirens. Your jaw clicks as you bite down on your teeth.
It's time to make a decision.
