DARKSOL SERUM: Still accepting for a while longer.

Umbra Facility
Coordinates Unknown

Something slams on your cell door and rouses you from your drug-induced slumber.

"Rise and shine!"
"Get up!"
"Get your ass off that bed!"

A variety of morning greetings, depending on the mood of the guard, confront the subjects as they blink their eyes open and groggily assess their surroundings. Some may feel a bit of panic at seeing an orange, prison-style jumpsuit (albeit a well-fitted one: many subjects are no longer humanoid, and Umbra's tailors are always busy) on their body. Someone put these clothes on me. Someone saw me naked. Oh my. There was also, of course, an aching soreness on the vict-subject's nondominant arm, in the crook of the elbow where you'd shoot up if you were a druggie, or be shot up with Serum if you were unlucky. There were no mirrors to examine oneself with in the cell-in fact, the room was spartan, having only a mattress on a concrete slab (a quick push down into it confirmed it was all feathers, no springs) and a toilet. Claustrophobia would be quickly overcome inside the facility.

The doors to your cell slide open, moving back into the wall. Christ, that thing is thick. Harsh fluorescent light floods into your twilit room, making you blink a couple times, perhaps throw up an arm while your watery eyes adjust. You move slowly towards the door, looking around. Two guards stand at your door, holding their weapons at the ready. Despite the mirrored visors on their helmets, you can feel their stares on you, and their fingers are wrapped around the trigger. Yeah, these guys aren't f*cking around. You're slowly corralled, along with the other prisoners, down the hallway. Your mind still feels fuzzy from the-whatever the fuck they put in you. The short walk ends in a small room, one that appears to be a common room of sorts. There's a TV (an episode of Scrubs is playing on mute) and several couches set up. A coffee table is littered with magazines, all of which appear to be severely dated. The room was perhaps intended to make you feel at ease, but it just gives off an eerie, sterilized feel. The dozen plus men with full body armor and military grade weaponry doesn't help at all.

You stand for a moment or two, glancing at the other prison-holy shit, that guy's way more messed up than I am-ers as you take in your surroundings. The more your head clears, the more confused and frightful you become. Weren't you at home sleeping? Or at work? Or somewhere alone, somewhere quiet, where a truck could easily pull up, whisk you away, and no one would ever know.

Wait, wait, wait, if they did that to that one guy, then, what did they do to me? What are they going to do to me? Oh Christ, I have to-

Your panicked internal soliloquy (or perhaps you're taking this better than most-perhaps you're cracking jokes-I have no idea!) is interrupted by a door, heavy steel and seemingly unable to be opened from the inside, sliding open. A small group of people walk in, with a small cadre of guards walking behind them.

Remember that weird, eerie feel? Like a total alien, entirely ignorant of human customs, tried to make a room comforting to people? These people have that feel-like they stopped being human quite a while ago, and are somewhat clueless as to how actual people operate.

The center one is far and away the oldest, appearing to be in his mid forties, perhaps fifties. This is Doctor Isaiah Steele, director of the Darksol project and undisputed autocrat of the Umbra facility. He stands perfectly upright, an entirely unconvincing smile on his face. He has salt and pepper hair slicked back, a face totally devoid of facial hair and emotion, and an outfit that's equal parts practicality and style. A knee-length leather trench coat, something out of Hugo Boss' wet dreams, shines in the room's lighting (the room almost seems to not have shadows-lighting is omnipresent). He surveys the newest round of subjects, the strange smile on his face refusing to fluctuate. After a few moments of analyzing the subjects, he speaks in a calm, passive voice-there's a faint trace of an accent, something European, but it's hard to place. "Well, I don't intend to make you stand all day! Please, sit down, make yourselves comfortable. My name is Doctor Isaiah Steele, and I will be your host for the duration of your stay here."

Yeah, comfortable. Lot of that going around.

Standing beside him-and towering over him by perhaps half a foot is his son, Drago Steele. One questions the paternity of Isaiah, as Drago quite frankly has no resemblance to him-and his mother must've been an Amazon for him to be that much taller than Isaiah. While Isaiah is pale and lanky, Drago's a behemoth-easily in his late twenties, he has a full, dark beard, cold blue eyes, and a cigar firmly clamped between his teeth. He stands confidently, letting his gaze linger a little longer on the female subjects (and he puts no effort into hiding it). Across his broad chest is a bulletproof vest, reinforced with steel plates. Similar protection covers his legs and arms, with a riot shotgun hanging from a strap behind him, and two smaller scatterguns tucked into sheathes under his arms. "Fresh meat, eh?" He murmurs. "Chlo, maybe Squidward over there could be your new boy t-"

Chloe Steele, who appeared to be old enough to vote but not old enough to drink (legally), glared at Drago. Perhaps you've never endured a truly harsh glare, the sort of withering look that makes you feel like curling up into the fetal position and shutting the world out. She was out-glaring every Catholic school teacher and drill sergeant in the world right then. Smoke began rising up out of her ears, quite literally, and her hair flared up for a moment. It was currently a vibrant red, but as the little powwow in the common room went on, you would find it changed. Her hair matched her eyes perfectly, each flickering from vibrant red to deep purple to golden yellow over the course of a few minutes. It didn't seem to bother her at all. Her appearance, again, didn't seem to reflect that of her father's: she appeared to be of Southern European descent, with deeply tanned skin. Perhaps, beneath the plethora of weapons strapped to her, she's shapely, but it's hard to get a gauge for her figure with her current outfit. Chloe looks as if a group of SEALs, Deltas, and Spetsnaz operatives all got together and picked out her wardrobe. She appears, unlike Drago, to have eschewed protection for mobility, with a lightweight, Kevlar-free vest and flexible black pants. Two pistols hang from her hips and underneath his shoulders, with a pair of submachineguns resting on her lower back. Knives are strapped to each ankle, and one can see a pack of open cigarettes at the top of her vest, where they're easily accessible. Chloe doesn't appear to need a lighter to get them going. "I swear to God I'll-"

"Chloe." Isaiah speaks calmly but sharply, and his tone conveys absolute authority. "Not in front of our guests, darling." The guards share a few uneasy looks but very wisely say nothing. Chloe, visibly fuming (literally and figuratively), turned away for a moment, drawing another cigarette and puffing on it. Drago didn't bother to hide his smirk.

The faint sound of giggling could be heard, with the youngest Steele clearly finding her older sister's reprimanding amusing. Olivia Steele, usually called Livvy, was wearing a pink and white polka dotted dress with light-up-with-each-step tennis shoes. Her light blonde hair was pulled back into pigtails, and her face was splashed with a few freckles. She seemed genuinely happy and unperturbed by the men with guns or the violent display of emotion Chloe had just shown, clutching to a teddy bear with blissful ignorance. The bear was dressed up like a soldier, and after a moment of trying to listen to the boring grown-up conversations, she flopped down and began changing his outfit to that of a doctor's.

"My apologies. These are my lovely children: Drago, Chloe, and young Livvy." Drago beamed a smile at the subjects; Chloe barely glanced up before putting another cigarette in; Livvy looked up at the mention of her name, realized she was not being addressed, and resumed playing with her teddy. "Now, I'm sure you are all wondering what exactly you're doing here. I'm pleased to inform you that you're doing a great service to your country! I won't bore you with the specifics-certain aspects of it aren't appropriate for," he gestured a hand at Livvy, who was pulling a tiny stethoscope out of her backpack to put on the bear, "certain people, but suffice to say America is in a bit of a dilemma. You see, the furor over Edward Snowden's little vacation to Moscow and those Russian spies who were discovered some time back are merely pieces of a much bigger picture. In the Cold War, it was the arms race, the space race. We're in a different era, now, with a different form of competition." Isaiah stretched out his hands, beaming that unnatural smile. "Our people! What you're participating in is a study, one which is designed to ensure our wonderful land stays happy and free. We trust that you'll comply-after all, not only is your safety our primary concern, but we have national security to think about! I'm sure you all have a great many questions, but unfortunately, a project such as this requires constant work. I'm going to be leaving you in the capable hands of my children, who are assisting me in this project. They're very capable of keeping you safe and ensuring that we obtain the test data we need. I trust you'll treat them with the same authority you would any government official."

Livvy, of course, had to giggle as he said that, presumably at something the teddy bear told her.

"Anyhow, I must be off. Chloe, you and Olivia handle one group. Drago, you the other."

"Sure thing," Drago said, extinguishing the cigar against his armor before tossing it at one of the guards. The guard flinched and caught it, then looked around for a place to dispose it. Drago seemed to find this amusing. "Alright, my people." He pulled out a tablet and flipped through it lazily for a moment. "I need Melissa and Peter over here." Drago moved over to an area of the room separate from Chloe and Livvy.

Chloe seemed to be taking her duties with much less gusto than her brother. She pulled out a similar tablet and, in a tone of voice that made absolutely no attempt to hide her contempt, barked "Belle, Tobias. Here."

Welcome to Darksol. Enjoy your stay.

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Any questions you have, details you need clarified, etc, feel free to ask in the OOC. I'll comment on anything your character could observe, such as what's around them, how many guards there are, so on and so forth, for the duration of the RP.

No scent, no sound, and nothing to be seen, and it was as though he were trapped in a void. The only thing allowing Peter to let him know he was awake was the twitching of his fingers and feeling the hard ground beneath him. He felt groggy, and was unable to let out a groan. He turned his head left and right - or so he supposed - and blinked to lift the veil of darkness that had been draped over his eyes. Still nothing. Still naught but a void. He must be in a dark room. But why? There was hardly a feasible reason for such action to be made. Where was he? He was strapped to a table and injected with a serum and the next he knew everything went black. What had happened? He brought his hand up to face to rub it, his eyes, and all the creases that should have been there. Except they weren't. The finer sensations of his sense of touch were gone. And everything seemed hard. Smooth and polished. It lacked any kind of rubbery texture, or even warmth - in fact, he felt cold all over. There was no warmth to be found, and yet at the same time... it didn't feel to bother him. How peculiar... was this the serum? The serum...

The serum!

Peter's hand immediately shot for his left side. His rib cage. His armpit. His shoulder... no... no! It wasn't there! Damn! Damn, damn, damn! DAMN!The serum failed, he didn't have his arm or anything! Peter felt his mind beginning to rush. No, no, no, this wasn't right. They assured him he'll have his arm back! Or at least he thought they did. He thought he remembered that. It was dark in here, he felt weird, and his arm was still missing. This whole experiment was a failure. Where was he now? The back of a box truck being sent home? No... there was no sound. Or bumps, or anything to suggest a motor, or even movement. He was stagnant. Did that mean he was still at the Umbra Facility? Why? Why would he be there if the experiment was a failure?

...Of course. Arm or not, he was still injected with the serum. Tests had to be made. Of course. For all he knew, he was a ticking time bomb. He'd have to cooperate until he was allowed to leave and go home so he can resume his research. Now he just had to get adjusted... his clothes? His clothes were replaced. It was a one piece suit, he could tell by how it restricted him... but it felt... weird. Weird in that he couldn't really tell what it felt like. He knew it was there, it resisted his tug. But he didn't actually feel it, it seemed. He could... "feel" his arm, so to speak, but he was numb to the fabric. What a peculiar serum. This was what he got for volunteering to test a prototype serum. Did he volunteer? Well, technically, he was initially kidnapped. Sure, he volunteered later after he learned about their purpose. Why were they allowed to take him in the first place? Suppose it was possible they had political immunity to do such a thing.

Then strange, eerie noise broke the silence. It sounded like a vibration that echoed through his head. He felt it in his legs and his torso too. It was odd - it sounded like it was supposed to be human speech, but it was warped. Perhaps even hollow. Like a rrrooiiiisse enn shee-iiiinnne. And it echoed. It echoed through him. Why? What was this place?

It was followed by a louder, more thunderous boom. He felt its echo trail off for a short second before it had completely vanished, in synchronized with a loud click that felt as though it came from overhead. He felt his body vibrate... why? His body tingled, a sensation that started from his head and crawled its way down his body. The faintest flicker of static could be heard from overhead. The boom was something familiar... had a door opened? It was like a jail cell. Why would he be in a jail cell? And that loud click? And the flicker? Like a light! But if it was a light, why couldn't he see, still? Maybe it was a switch or piece of the door mechanism? But why was there no light, still? Was the other side as dark? It had to have been. This darkness was ridiculous. He heard another, low, dull noise. Geeeuut eeuuooop. Just faintly. What? Was someone there? He felt a sensation beneath his arm's pit. It tingled a little bit, as those there was static there. In the shape of a hand. The sensation was still there, and the static felt a bit sharper, but painless altogether. What?

Then an incredibly sharp static feel in the center of his forehead - this time it made him flinch. W-what was that? There was a loud, resounding echo, and vibrations went across his body? What? There came again a similar noise to the previous one. Geeeuut eeuuooop. Was somebody telling him to get up? But why did they sound so weird? And why couldn't Peter see them? It was so dark, and yet they could see him? What was with all of these weird sensations? Regardless, he slowly pressed his hand against the ground and picked himself up. He felt a little weird getting up, not seeing anything. But he got up with such ease. He, Peter, a middle-aged man. Not a single ache in his back or his limbs. Sure, he still felt a bit groggy, but he was rapidly recovering from that. Aside from his numbness, his body felt great. He felt another super-sharp static sensation strike the side of his head, where his temple would be. Another resonant echo. What on earth was that? A headache? These headaches were happening all over his head it felt like. In a similar manner too, like a narrow streak across the sides of his skull. They weren't necessarily enjoyable, but they didn't really hurt. Was that a serum effect? Little to Peter's knowledge, one of the guards had just stricken him in the head with a heavy baton for the second time.

He slowly paced out of the room, trying to keep his balance in the dark. There were vibrations, he felt. Several people. Some vibrations were more noticeable than others, such as those he assumed were the one that allowed him out of whatever room he was in. Several people. He bumped into so many, yet he couldn't see past the thick shade... oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, please, please, dear lord, let it not be, do not let it be so... what if? What IF?! His research! His research! What would he do, what could he do?!. All of his notes were written! No, this can't be. Years upon years upon years of research! It is all gone! Gone! It was gone to him! What could have possibly happened to... the serum! It was the serum! This was the serum's fault! The serum RUINED him! It tore down everything he had left! Arm? HA! What arm?! The serum assured that would never, EVER happen! Darksol, Umbra, tear it all down! They promised him! They promised him! They promised him an arm and instead took away his life! What had he left now? A family? No. Not even that. Peter never had family.

And now he was blind... there was nothing for him anymore. Who's to say what kind of freak he turned into? He stood where he was for a good few moment, a static tingled this back, but throughout his despair, was unable to notice it. Little did he know, he was just outside of the room all of the subjects were led to. Just outside of it. And there were just a couple guards just behind him, pushing with all of their strength to push Peter into that room with the rest of the subject. Literally senseless, he was ignorant of everything they were doing. One last guard was all they needed to make the difference, and when he put in a helping hand, despite the doctor engulfed in all of his worst fears, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that was was falling. Then another sharp feeling of static was concentrated on the center of his forehead, where he had fallen. He tried to feel his head, but the ground blocked the path of his arm. I'm... I'm on the ground, aren't I? He thought. That's... only suitable, I suppose... It was a good minute before he felt any desire to pick himself up. And he did, and he again picked himself up with no struggle. Even with one arm.

All of the echoes and vibrations he felt as he stood there - for who know how long; Peter no longer saw any need to count - his legs remained strong. He stood there still as a statue, unresponsive to all of the echoes and vibrations around him. He had little clue of Dr. Isaiah's presence and his children just in front of him. His legs didn't even ache. Or change position. They remained strong. He felt like a young man again, except... more solid. Heavier. Stronger. His mind raced a mile a second. Everything that has happened, everything he has discovered, all within the past fifteen minutes. All of it, it was just overwhelming. No arm. No sight. His hearing was peculiar and... assuredly terrible. His senses were... they were nearly eliminated, almost completely. What had they done? What did he look like? What exactly has happened to him and is there anything he can do through all of this? Stand up? Stand still? They stuck a huge needle in his arm, wasn't that supposed to hurt? But no, except it didn't. No, it did... but it doesn't. Not now.

He just barely heard Drago say his name. But it wasn't enough to grab his attention. Nothing sounded like they were supposed to be, to him. To him, he was stuck in an alien world where he can't see anything, where his arm was gone, and where everything he heard was a strange, peculiar sound. As though they were talking underwater. Except... not quite like that. It was definitely a unique sound.

He was completely unresponsive to Drago, and stood there as still as a statue. His expressionless and featureless face staring ahead. Quite the enigma, and nearly unrecognizable from before the experiments. The only thing that would let anyone know he is one of them was the orange jumpsuit he was dressed in. And the name tag that was on it: Peter Brooke.

Even her dreams had shadows. Belle recalled normally having extremely vivid and colorful dreams, ones featuring cake and friends and cute animals. So this dream stood out to her and felt unnatural. She was in a dark room, one that felt almost smokey or misty, so dark that she struggled to see her own hands in front of her as she struggled through the dark. She waved her arms out, trying to feel for something. In this dream, even her voice seemed far away. “Momma? Poppa?” Her voice echoed through the misty darkness. Belle flinched, as if startled by hearing herself. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to wake up. Even when she clenched her eyes shut and covered her ears with her hands she could still see and hear around her. Two shadowy figures emerged, both lacking faces or distinguishing features. Despite this Belle knew exactly who they were once their voices broke through the silence. “Belle? Baby? Where are you?”

Suddenly, Belle's wish of waking up was granted. She sat up quickly, almost too quickly, and let out a soft gasp into her dark room. The voices of her parents still echoed. Where are you? Where are you is right. Belle's neck and back hurt for some reason, but it wasn't enough for her to find time to complain about it. What really ached was her arm, it felt as if she had gotten a shot. Belle's eyes widened in the dark. That was right, she had gotten a shot. She had been hiding in the woods when some people found her, they had promised her something. A syrup or something that would help her. With what she couldn't remember. Her memory felt a little fuzzy after that, she remembered being told she was going to have a shot and then immediately trying to run away, but what was it.

Belle brushed her fingers through her hair. She felt a little funny, maybe from the nightmare. She had only wished her room had a nightlight.

And then, much to Belle's surprise, the door to her room opened. The sudden light flooding into her room caused the girl to flinch and rub her eyes. With the light now in her room she could finally look around. Her room wasn't the nicest thing she had even slept on, but at least she had a mattress. What Belle really didn't like was the jumpsuit she was wearing. Orange. What a gross color. She would have rather had a pink or a floral one. She did find it nice that her name was sewn into it. She might have been a poor reader, but she could read her own name. Belle looked up from her jumpsuit when she noticed the door had opened and two guards were standing outside. Belle smiled, she even had her own little protection team.

Her voice was surprisingly chipper for just waking up on a thin mattress in a strange place. “Good Morning! I'm Belle! What's your names?” She asked the two guards, instead of getting an answer they moved her along with the others. Hmm, they must be shy.

All of the subjects had been moved into a sitting room, in which Belle immediately found a spot on a couch to sit on, bouncing up and down on it slightly. She didn't seem bothered at all by the situation, in fact she seemed more relaxed now that she was out of her room. She still wished she had a nicer outfit on, or at least a hair clip or something. Belle flinched slightly when Doctor Isaiah Steele introduced himself, he was a doctor. Belle didn't like doctors. She kept her eyes down for a bit, until Chloe walked in. Belle smiled, her eyes were awesome and flickery.

And then Olivia walked out. Yep, Belle decided they were going to be best friends. She had stopped listening to the other adults, that was until her name was called. She hurried over to the lady who had called her name, with a smile still on her face. She got to hang out with the cool eyes lady and Livvy. She looked over to the other guy with her, he looked a bit odd. But her mother had taught her never to stare, so she kept her eyes to herself and stopped herself from saying anything too rude.

She leaned over to Livvy, a smile on her face. “I really like your light up shoes.” Belle felt a pang of jealously, wishing she could wear cool light up shoes and have a pretty dress too. For a moment Belle didn't understand why she had to wear an orange jumpsuit and Livvy could wear a dress. It bothered her, but not enough not to let their friendship grow. It was then Belle noticed her bear was wearing a doctors outfit and Belle found herself panicking for a moment. She didn't like doctors, doctors were bad. But then something dawned on her, Bear doctors were waaaaay different from human doctors. Human doctors were mean and gave her shots, but Bear doctors were nice and gave lollipops to good children. “Whats his name?” Belle said, looking at the bear.

Melissa "Missy" Baroness.


The now monstrous teen was resting. Peacefully. Blissfully unaware of her sinister surroundings. A happier dream had overwritten her mind. If one were to look closely, she was even smiling. Whatever she was dreaming about, it was definitely better than reality anyway.  

Her eyes shot open like she just heard a gunshot.

Awoken by the guards slamming on her cell door. It was enough to snap Missy awake just like that. She was still groggy from whatever she had been injected with, so it took her some time in order to come to. She felt sore, strange, even inhuman. Despite her vision being blurry, Missy tried to take a look at her hand... Pale, vein-y, and odd. Just the way she remembered it after what that damn serum did to her. Missy got up, until she was sitting on her behind, she rubbed her watery eyes. Her prehensile spine was lazily rested on her bed, it twitched. This jumpsuit was tailor made to accommodate her new physical alteration, or else Missy would have tucked her spine underneath her outfit.

"The serum..." Missy angrily slurred, contorting her face into an angry frown. The doors swung open, and two gun toting soldiers came with weapons ready. Urging Missy to come with them. She was getting angry, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't have a choice anymore, did she? Missy's feet touched the floor of the. This place reeked of disinfectant, and she was keeping herself from stumbling over like a drunk. Containing her growing rage with fear of the unknown. She was carted into a small room, with a coffee table, and about a dozen angry guards. Like... A waiting room. She was quite frightened by the display of force. She bet if she looked at one of these soldiers the wrong way, they'd take the first chance to blow her away.

It took Melissa some more time to let the darkness inside of her seep in. She hunched over slightly, tucking her head in to put her hands over her face. Shuddering every few seconds if someone was careful. She didn't bother looking at the other prisoners. She was so caught up in her own emotions to notice there were even other people here.

The sound of someone speaking to her, someone talking in an authoritative tone, like the ring leader of all this. She took her hands away from her face and looked up at 'Dr. Steele' and his lovely family. An older male, Drago, taller than Isiah, was armor clad, smokes cigar. He had the appearance of an imposing brute, someone you wouldn't want to get into a boxing match. The woman, Chloe, with them didn't appear to be that old, but looked as vicious a. That changing hair/eyes and the pyrotechnics heavily implied that she was no different from the prisoners. The last one was a little girl, Olivia... Merely a child. Put in charge of such vicious experiments. The girl was either innocent, or truly cruel underneath it all. Melissa hoped for the former - Actually Missy was just hoping that this was merely an introduction and she'd be thrown back into her cells any second now.

Lady luck wasn't in her favor, and Dr. Steele put the prisoners in the hands of his children. Followed by Drago basically announcing that Missy was going with him.

Missy hesitated, taking a small step back, before looking back at the soldiers that guarded this room. The last thing Missy wanted to do was go with Drago, but the soldiers were their deterrent against even the smallest act of rebellion. In the long run, Melissa would have to appear to be playing their game if she is to ever leave here. Hesitant, Missy walked over to where Drago told her to go, she kept her eye on Drago, not even blinking. "Call me Missy..." She hissed quietly to Drago.

Drago raised an eyebrow at Peter, who seemed to be standing there. Was this a show of defiance? This early on? There were always one or two that felt a need to show they had balls-but, according to rumors, the Tin Man had lost his. "Peter." Drago repeated, a hint of authority seeping into his voice. He took his eyes off the tablet and held his gaze at Peter for a few seconds-it would seem that Drago had a few lessons in acting with authority. He was an imposing figure, if only because of the body armor and gun, and he used it to full effect. "I don't like repeating myself, Tin Man. Get over here."

A few of the guards nudged Peter towards Drago, perhaps displaying a bit of mercy-or perhaps they didn't trust their employer to discriminate between subject and guard when he lost his temper. "Listen to him. Get over there," one muttered, prodding Peter's back with his shotgun. God, his skin was rock-hard. It was like pressing his gun into concrete. Discerning the guards emotions from behind their masks was difficult, but normally their body language was enough to convey their distrust of the prisoners-who could look at someone like Peter and even view him as human, anymore?

Drago, however, lost interest in Peter quickly enough. "Thank you for listening, Missy." He gave her a playful wink, making eye contact with her. He held it. "I must say, that's a rather cute nickname." He tapped on the tablet, perhaps recording something or another. He began speaking, unaware or uncaring of Peter's difficulty understanding. "Now, Petey and Missy, we're going to be doing a very quick survey before we move on. You're going to need to answer this truthfully, and preferably quickly." He glanced at Peter. "The questions are as follows.

1. You own a car which can only seat two people. You are driving down the road in a severe thunderstorm and, at a stoplight, you look out the window. There you see three people sitting on a bench: the first is a very elderly woman, who is without a jacket and shivering in the cold. The second is your best friend, whom you have known and trusted for many years. The third is the love of your life. What do you do, knowing that your car can only hold one additional person? "Personally," Drago said, "I would choose the love of my life...but I also wouldn't have a piece of shit car that only seats two.

Next question. 2. You are mining in a cave when something goes horribly wrong. Somehow, the cave has begun to fill with water, and it is rising very rapidly to the top. Seven of you are in this section of the cave, and you frantically rush for the exit, which is a small hole in the roof of the cave. Unfortunately, one of your fellow miners is extremely large, and finds himself wedged in the hole. If he's not displaced, the rest of you will surely drown. Your only means of doing this is with a stick of dynamite that one of you has. Would you be willing to detonate the dynamite and kill the stuck miner in order to save the others?" Drago snorted. "God, if they'd only put that in Snow White."

Across the room, Livvy perked up and glanced over at what Drago had said, but quickly returned her attention to the bear in her arms.

"Question numero treso. 3. You have discovered that your government is not, in fact, run by the officials you elect to office, but instead by a small group of all-powerful oligarchs. You have very convincing proof of their existence and could reveal it to the world. Doing so, however, would risk internal strife or perhaps other nations attacking you. Is it better to keep the truth concealed and maintain stability or risk all-out war for the truth?

Fourth." Drago paused for a second, reading through it. "Ay. Chloe."

Chloe turned her head and gave him a look that made it abundantly clear his earlier dig was not forgotten.

"Did Isai-Dad change up the questions?"

"Hell if I know."

Drago grunted and read back through it one more time. "4...what is your favorite Disney princess?" Drago stared at the tablet with a very confused look on his face, which was mirrored by several of the guards exchanging glances.

Livvy had her face buried in Dr. Teddy and was shaking, perhaps from laughter.

"Whatever. Final question. 5. You are sentenced to die, but may choose any means of execution you wish. What do you select? I'll go ahead and tell you, this one has a right answer. Overdosing on heroin in the middle of the Playboy Mansion. It's on the bucket list." Drago recorded their answers ((your characters will be answering in-between each question)) and tossed the tablet over to a guard, who caught it with practiced ease. "Good. We'll wait for my slowpoke sisters to finish up and then we'll be on our merry way. Any questions?"

On the other side of the room, Chloe was dealing with her subjects with far less patience. She very visibly almost snapped at Belle, but caught herself: Livvy had begun to reply, and Chloe busied herself with the tablet for a moment.

"You like them???" Livvy squeaked, turning and jumping up. "Ohmigosh! Thank you!" she grinned, glancing down at Belle's barefoot feet. "Oooh, I bet I can get you a pair, too!" Belle's next question, however, was what clearly got her in good with the Warden's daughter-upon mentioning the bear, Livvy seemed to light up.

No, wait. She did light up, if just barely.

"His name is Doctor Teddy!" She held him up in front of her face and waved his paw at her, which, somehow, had on a very small latex glove, similar to those you would find in hospitals. "But I change his outfits a lot. You can help me sometime! What's your name? I'm Livvy!" she stuck out her hand for a handshake, which, as far as she knew, was the official means of making someone your bestest friend forever

Chloe coughed, attempting to quiet her little sister down, and closed her eyes out of irritation for a moment. A bit more smoke curled up from her ears, and she brushed her now-indigo hair back behind them. She continued to fiddle with the tablet while Livvy and Belle talked, displaying a perhaps worrisome lack of concern for the procedures. Perhaps she was filling out the survey's results for them? Chloe finished up with the tablet and took a step or two over to a guard, handing it to him. She moved back over and tugged on Livvy's backpack. "C'mon, Liv. You two, let's go. Drago, we're good."

"Great!" Drago replied, rolling his neck and shoulders to get loosened up. "Fall in with me." He began leading the group, with Chloe more or less walking beside him-she frequently had to move to stay fairly close to Livvy, who seemed to want to walk with Belle. "Now, I'm sure you're all a little overwhelmed, it being your first day and whatnot. I remember mi-" Drago stopped abruptly, his face drawing an abrupt blank-it was as if, instead of a singular word being on the tip of his tongue, the entire sentence was. "Anyways, we're going to be running a pretty simple test on all of you just to make sure you're up to speed, everything's working as planned..."

Chloe snorted. A small tuft of fire emerged from her nose as a result of this. Chloe's hands remained in her pockets for the duration of the walk, and her eyes stayed more-or-less focused on her feet. She certainly didn't seem worried about any of the prisoners jumping her. Perhaps she had that much faith in the guards (who were watching the prisoners like starved hawks watch fat mice), or perhaps she had that much faith in herself.

The hallway they were being led down was clean, polished white tile and white walls. It was quite bright, and had the effect of being somewhat disorienting. They were taken down the hallway, turned right, then left, right again-after a while, it became exceedingly difficult to keep track of where the hell they were. The more navigationally-minded of the group would perhaps notice they'd gone in an intentionally misleading route, circling back on their path two times. There were occasionally rooms off to the side, but these were labelled with greek symbols in lieu of useful things like nameplates.

At one point in the hallway, there seemed to be...whispering. It was hard to pick up on the source, but the guards all crowded in against the subjects more closely, a few backpedaled in order to cover their rear. Drago picked up the pace and Chloe's flaming hair seemed to die down a bit, but they were past that corridor quickly enough and things went back to normal.

"And here we are." Drago had stopped at a room denoted with a lambda. The door slid open, and the group shuffled single-file into a dark, metallic hallway. It felt rather like being in the inside of a subway train, with only Chloe's flaming hair and the faint green lights denoting where to move forward marking the way. Someone towards the back of the group may have noticed, in the dark, that Livvy's eyes seemed particularly luminescent, reflecting a light that wasn't present in the room. "I know you're all nervous, but I assure you, the first one's always easy." They stopped moving and Drago looked up, whistling twice.

The steel beneath everyone's feet began to move upwards; the Steele family and the guards all seemed entirely unperturbed by the sudden jolt. After perhaps twenty seconds, it stopped, with several noises around the group (click click, chink) indicating that the platform was once again secured into something. Slowly, the room began to fill with light, but at a gentle enough rate that no one's eyes would be harmed too badly.

"This will be our first trial." As the light began to move from pitch-black to a semidarkness, one could vaguely see...trees...around them. It was difficult to see beyond ten or fifteen feet, primarily because that was the tree line. They were in a clearing, devoid of anything, and past that, the room seemed to be a jungle. "Now, I certainly hope none of you have any fear of wild animals-" Drago began melodramatically.

"Kitty!" Livvy squealed, looking off into the distance. Was she mocking Drago, or...

"...because there are a few prowling about this area. Your goal is really quite simple. Either on your own or in the group, you are to make your way to that area, right over there." he pointed and, as if on cue, a spotlight from above shined down on some area of the forest north of the group. It was now about as light as it would be in the late afternoon, and one could take in the surroundings fairly well. It seemed to be a jungle-aside from the fact that the sky was a steel dome and there was the out-of-place steel platform beneath their feet. Moss hung from trees, birds cried in the distance, and somewhere, water poured down from the ceiling, simulating rain. It wasn't too terribly hot, but this room was certainly lacking the chill of the earlier parts of the facility. "Given that this is your first trial, you just woke up, yaddy yadda ya, we will be staying with you to help guide you. Guards." Drago nodded his head and the guards all reached up to their vests. A string hung from out of one of the pockets, and they all pulled the strings out. Following this strange ritual, they began casually walking out into the woods, leaving the group alone.

"Kitty's closer!"

Chloe gave her little sister a mournful smile and then took a submachinegun into each hand, her body language slowly shifting from that of bored irritation to tense fury. She scanned the woods, murmuring something under her breath.

"However, please do not expect any advice, or consolation-" Chloe glanced over at him, brow furrowed at his word choice-"on what to do. Asking for our guns, also a no. Think of us more as animal control. There's no right way or wrong way to do this. You may stay here and discuss amongst yourselves, form a plan of action, so on and so forth as long as you like. However, just a friendly piece of advice, the longer you wai-"


"Don't," Chloe said sharply. "Let them figure it out." The submachineguns in her hands were trembling ever so slightly.

Drago paused for a moment, irritation flickering across his features. "Very well then. Take your time."

Any details on your immediate surroundings that you request will be given.

Drago's voice as he said Peter's name was dull and warped, his voice vibrating through Peter's metal shell of a body. His words were indiscernible. He would even consider ignoring the man talking, given how wrapped up he was in his own turmoil. After all, he couldn't see... his arm wasn't given back to him... what more could he give? His work and experience was so specialized, he was hardly a serviceable citizen at this rate - much less a doctor! He heard Drago speak once more, the same warped sound touched his senses. It was as though listening in on a conversation in the next room through a wall. And here he was, not even knowing what he looked like or what had happened. The next moment, a particularly potent pulse of static buzzed his back at the touch of the guard's metal shotgun. This static crawled up his back, much like a shiver, and wrapped around his head. It was almost a euphoric sense, and subsequently an image presented itself in his head. As though it was behind his eyes. It was the image of a large gun, pieces of it missing where the gun was supposed to be lined or padded with rubber or a similar resistant material.

A gun?

For the briefest moment, Peter could see something! The idea of such a prospect was overwhelming to him, the idea that not all was lost - but how? And what had happened? And why a gun? Was he imagining things or... no, no, it was definitely real. In fact, he still felt a buzz on his back. And if he concentrated... there it was... why was there a shotgun touching his back? Why was someone aiming a gun at him, and why was this guard so... so incompetent? Hasn't he ever held someone at gunpoint before? Back in Peter's youth, so many years ago, he was taught to never touch someone's back. That was asking to be disarmed. If Peter could see, a simple turn and grab would do the trick... how many others were around? Well Peter was, at heart, a scientist. And a doctor. Maybe a tip? He wanted to say "want me to teach you how to hold your gun?" It absolutely sounded conceited. What else could he say? He knew things, this man didn't, he absolutely held know-how over this man. Or woman. He heard some more strange sounds coming from Drago's direction, but naive of the situation he was currently placed in, was more interested in advising the guard.

But that wasn't necessarily what happened.

And perhaps it seemed a little rude. When Drago was finished talking the first question, Peter made an alien, abnormal sound. It was the sound of metal bending and warping, somewhat shrill, and something of an unnatural, dull screech. Peter paused. That certainly didn't sound normal. He expected to hear himself as though he were talking with ear plugs on or something similar, but he instead felt intense vibrations starting from his head and being sent all the way down to his feet. It was sharp. How odd. He heard more noises from Drago. What was he talking about anyway? What was he saying? Was he reading a book out loud? How many things could he possibly say that was important right now? I want to hear... he thought. He felt his body shiver. Weird. It wasn't cold. Then the inside of his head buzzed. That felt funny. Then another shiver, like a wave from his head and all the way down to his feet. His feet felt as though they were asleep. Strange! He hasn't felt anything but static sense he woke up! Peter wanted to test this. He wanted to make sure his feet were actually asleep, and maybe the numbing effects of the serum were off. So he lifted his foot and clapped it against the ground.

Then his senses bursted into life. The static gathered in his foot was transferred to the metal ground. He saw an open room, with the shapes of shadows standing in them, presumably people. And all the noises... they were so odd! They were oh so odd, but they were reasonable! He understood what Drago was saying. Perhaps those that were paying attention to him would notice that his body was making a low humming sound, like an old monitor. He looked at his hand, and to him, it was glowing brighter than everything else he saw. Everything he saw... presumably metal. What was he, then? But he heard the questions Drago was asking. Starting from number two's "...seven of you are in this cave". So this guy was asking "what would you do" questions? Was this a game? With a guard's shotgun at Peter's back? What a strange place. Regardless, all of these questions he was asking sounded... self-reflective. Was he supposed to keep all of these questions in mind? One in particular stuck out to him (aside from the one referring to Disney princesses). Number three. Now, Peter wasn't a sociologist. That wasn't his specialization. But he certainly wasn't an idiot. It was something in Drago's tone, and a woman's confused voice. Definitely, the answer would be to hide the truth, but why that question? That was something he'd have to keep in mind until later.

Overall, all of these questions were strange. And largely unnecessary. But needless to say, he will be thinking about these questions for his duration here. Maybe it will help him get through this? No, of course not. But he never actually bothered to think about these things before. And as he thought of it, he came to realize he didn't even know a whole lot about himself! What a ridiculous notion. Disney princesses though? He hadn't watched cartoons since he was a tiny thing. But there were a bunch when he was little. Like The Aristocats, and Popeye, and Robin Hood. There weren't many princesses though. It started later, in the late 80s, with The Little Mermaid. Followed that was Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, the latter which was in 1992 when Peter was older. Huh. Guess there was only really one option. Peter waited until Drago finished all that he has said, and not a word until he was sure Drago was done speaking. He prepared himself, concentrating hard on trying to form a coherent word. At first, the same ear piercing sound had occurred, but the sound persisted, as though someone was bending a metal tray just to get the right sound that it comes across as something coherent, albeit foreign. Skreeeee... eee... earial. Eee... yarial. Yaaiiirial... Aariel.

Because honestly, Snow White, taking bites out of apples from strangers in the woods that look as though they have full-facial herpes is just plain dumb, and Jasmine was a prize to be won. The mermaid was the only one really willing to explore something new and learn new things.

Regardless, that was that. It seemed like a waste of time. This was laboratory, right? Full of scientists? What kind of tests were these? They were kind of silly and child-like. What kind of question was "your favorite Disney princess?" Honestly, for a secret facility with a multi-trillion dollar budget, the tests appeared peculiar and mostly insubstantial. It was almost as if they were trying to care about the character of their test subjects. It was much too late for that. It was much too late to pretend to care about personalities after they indiscriminately kidnapped multiple people from all over and brought them here to inject them with mystery serums.

Time to move on, it seemed. Drago's voice gradually faded, and he felt another buzz on his back - a transferred image - he was being nudged with a shotgun again. Poor guardsman. But he will humor the young man and continue. He lifted one foot and brought it down onto the ground to step forward. It was followed by the heavy, dull sound of metal landing on metal. Oh my. He was certainly heavy now, it sounds like. What did the serum do to give him such a lead foot? He continued forward, each walking step making a similar loud thud. He was quite oblivious of the reactions of those around him, should any of them have a reaction to him. The flow of static was since interrupted from the end of Drago's questionnaire. How did he do that thing earlier? Everything was dark and diluted again. He felt weird. Funny. His foot was almost as though it were asleep. He tapped the ground with his toes. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Strange. It was almost as if he were...

Oh. Of course. Duh. God, what an idiot.

There was literally every suggestion and warning sign a book would tell you about, shoulder there ever be a book explaining the warning signs that you might have woken up as a metal man. Unconventional hearing (via vibrations), lack of sight, great weight, lack of physical sense or pain... electricity. So that's what he was? A battery? So he was a freak now, was that it? Wonderful. Even if he got out of here, he'd only be able to walk around with a ski mask and sunglasses, is that right? Northern Canada or Greenland is good place to do that without suspicion. He took his hand and knocked on his head a couple times. Ding, ding, ding. Vibrations went from the top of his head and down his body. So this is what being metal was like? Gosh, it was so weird. Honestly, everything he has been through this morning, he felt pretty desensitized from any kind of shock. He had no arm. His research was an absolute lost cause with no hope of a finish line. He needed to find another doctor or medical scientist. He needed somebody he could trust to finish his research.

Peter, with all his weight and thoughts, he hardly noticed the ground beneath him lift or even budge.

When they reached the surface, Peter felt his body tingle a little. Huh. Weird. He felt more... how would he put it? Charged? He could direct this, right? That must have been how he did what he did earlier. How did it go again? Peter focus on the intense buzz inside his head and felt it tingle down his back. So he could direct a current - interesting. He successfully attempted to aim the current down to his feet and... shoot it? How would he call it? Needless to say, the static touched the metal ground. It wasn't that high of a voltage, and any of the barefoot prisoners would likely feel their feet tingle slightly, followed by their bodies and perhaps the hair on their arms and legs rising, along with the low hum that came from Peter. All he could really see was a circle in the ground and the people standing on it. There was a little bit of the ground around the circle, but that was it. What was that, really? Earth and dirt? Little did Peter know, the electricity he was putting out, although little, was disturbing the worms in the ground. Earthworms wriggled out from the dirt where it was close to the metal circle in the ground.

From what he got of part of Drago's explanation, they were outside. And they had to walk through a jungle. And they had baby sitters. Beasts? Hell, from what he learned about himself in the past ten minutes, he had no reason to fear beasts. He was made of metal and he stored electricity. He had hardly any reason to fear, what, kitties? He had hardly any reason to fear... kitties anymore. His biggest worry was getting through a jungle. He was blind for God's sake and dirt wasn't a very good conductor. Unless maybe there were a bunch of minerals in the forest dirt? That's a thought. Anyways, Peter was the first one to step off of the plate, and his lack of connection to the metal made him lose his senses of them. His sense of hearing was severely diminished and he was unable to see them - he'd be unresponsive to their attempts at reaching him unless they took a rock and threw it at his head (but even then, he'd probably just stop and try to look around curiously). As far as Peter was concerned, there wasn't any bother with this forest's beasts. Besides this place was interesting. And he suspected it was humid. The air around him buzzed and he felt the touch of static against the shell of his face, as opposed to the internalized static he has been feeling. Mmm. Wonder what can be done with this.

Melissa "Missy" Baroness.


For a moment Drago's attention was on Peter. Curiosity made Missy look in the direction of Peter - Who had quite the curious appearance. He was made of metal, and even more inhuman than Missy looked. That was quite a feat in her eyes. Though he didn't look like he was too... Attentive. Missy was hoping that these guards aren't trigger happy enough to open fire - But at the same time she wondered what it would do if they shot at him? He's made of metal. It didn't escalate beyond that, and the guards simply pushed Peter towards Drago and everyone moved on. Not before Drago made a comment amount Missy having a 'cute nickname'. It made her sneer. "... Go to hell." She said quietly enough that nobody would hear her.

Drago asked her questions about what she would do in these situations. She sneered even greater now. These were the kind of questions that have no right answers. Either she'd sound like a morally blinded idiot, or would sound cruel.

Missy answered all of them shortly and concisely (And sarcastically).

The Real Shade wrote:

1. You own a car which can only seat two people. You are driving down the road in a severe thunderstorm and, at a stoplight, you look out the window. There you see three people sitting on a bench: the first is a very elderly woman, who is without a jacket and shivering in the cold. The second is your best friend, whom you have known and trusted for many years. The third is the love of your life. What do you do, knowing that your car can only hold one additional person? "Personally," Drago said, "I would choose the love of my life...but I also wouldn't have a piece of CENSORED car that only seats two.

"You want to know what it'd do?" Missy crossed her arms, "I'd let my lover into the car, and tell the other two to hang on real tight." Her tone was intentionally ambiguous, trying to make it hard to determine whether she was being sarcastically.

The Real Shade wrote:

Next question. 2. You are mining in a cave when something goes horribly wrong. Somehow, the cave has begun to fill with water, and it is rising very rapidly to the top. Seven of you are in this section of the cave, and you frantically rush for the exit, which is a small hole in the roof of the cave. Unfortunately, one of your fellow miners is extremely large, and finds himself wedged in the hole. If he's not displaced, the rest of you will surely drown. Your only means of doing this is with a stick of dynamite that one of you has. Would you be willing to detonate the dynamite and kill the stuck miner in order to save the others?" Drago snorted. "God, if they'd only put that in Snow White."

"Sorry but I'd be a bit hesitant to blow Chubster to pieces," Missy darkly replied, she just had to add on, "He'd make a mess."

The Real Shade wrote:

"Question numero treso. 3. You have discovered that your government is not, in fact, run by the officials you elect to office, but instead by a small group of all-powerful oligarchs. You have very convincing proof of their existence and could reveal it to the world. Doing so, however, would risk internal strife or perhaps other nations attacking you. Is it better to keep the truth concealed and maintain stability or risk all-out war for the truth?

"Long as it doesn't bother me; I'd go along with it."

The Real Shade wrote:

Drago grunted and read back through it one more time. "4...what is your favorite Disney princess?" Drago stared at the tablet with a very confused look on his face, which was mirrored by several of the guards exchanging glances.

"Hell if I know." Missy sharply answered.

The Real Shade wrote:

"Whatever. Final question. 5. You are sentenced to die, but may choose any means of execution you wish. What do you select? I'll go ahead and tell you, this one has a right answer. Overdosing on heroin in the middle of the Playboy Mansion. It's on the bucket list." Drago recorded their answers ((your characters will be answering in-between each question)) and tossed the tablet over to a guard, who caught it with practiced ease. "Good. We'll wait for my slowpoke sisters to finish up and then we'll be on our merry way. Any questions?"

"If I had a choice," Missy narrowed her eyes at Drago, and sneered yet again, "Kill me any way you'd like. Long as I'm anywhere but here, and far away from you as possible." She kept eye contact with Drago, waiting for his reactions to her answers. She hoped that he wouldn't get angry. Well, he didn't say anything about how she was supposed to answer the questions.

After the silly little survey, Isiah's kids started to haul everyone into a dark hallway. She contently followed along yet again. Hoping that she could just go back to her cell. The scenery changed fast once they've entered their 'testing grounds'. They were brought there by... Missy didn't know, she thinks it was an elevator. Everything went from pitch-black to slightly illuminated. She couldn't see much more than trees, which implanted an idea in her head of where they could be. Drago confirmed her suspicions when he said there's wild animals. "You can't be serious..." Missy said to no one in particular. Seriously, not only did they turn her into a freak, but now they're expecting her to go through a forest with god knows what hunting her.

Drago, Chloe, and the rest of security then left them alone. Giving them an destination. The only problem was what is between point A and B.

Perfect...

"Ugh!" Missy bellowed, loudly, before she snapped herself shut out of fear of attracting whatever might be lurking out there. "This is bullsh*t..." She needed to prepare herself for what's out there. She didn't want to wait around and go unprepared. As painful as her ability is... It was her only line of defense here. Missy hunched over, and started hissing out of sheer pain. Pain welled at her fingertips. Then notable bumps appeared, growing bigger and bigger, and pointier - Just like something was growing under her skin. Until small spears of bloody-bones burst out of her skin. Immediately Melissa let out a scream of agony, cupping her mouth to contain the scream. She dropped to her knees, and looked at what she's done. Missy had made claws, long and knife-sharp. Perfect for cutting. It wasn't the best thing to make in this situation, but it was the best she could do short term. Blood was dripping from the open wounds, but her healing factor stopped the blood soon enough. She tried her best to move her flesh out of the way, but had to break through a few layers.

Between bouts of panting, Missy asked her group, "Alright... I'm ready... What can.... the rest of you... do?"

Belle listened to each question very carefully, feeling like it was some sort of game. She wasn't sure what the questions had to do with her being here with all of these strange people, but riddles were incredibly fun for the young girl. She looked up at Chloe, not feeling any fear towards the older women despite the fearsome aura she gave off. Belle just assumed she was feeling a bit grumpy, maybe she didn't get enough sleep last night, she didn't know. Belle couldn't help but frown at Drago, since he has sworn. Her father had told her swearing was very bad. She was about to call him out on it, when Chloe also began asking the riddle like questions.

Shade wrote:

1. You own a car which can only seat two people. You are driving down the road in a severe thunderstorm and, at a stoplight, you look out the window. There you see three people sitting on a bench: the first is a very elderly woman, who is without a jacket and shivering in the cold. The second is your best friend, whom you have known and trusted for many years. The third is the love of your life. What do you do, knowing that your car can only hold one additional person?

"Oh! Oh!" Belle gasped, raising her hand. "I've heard this one! I've heard this one!" Belle sat up a bit taller, looking up as she recalled the answer, after a moment of thinking she spoke again. "You give your car to your most trust worthy friend, they take the elderly women into the car and out of the cold and you stay on the bench with the love of your life! That way they are not lonely!" Belle sounded extremely confident in herself, puffing out her chest slightly. Without getting any acknowledgement, Chloe had moved onto the next question, this one already giving the young girl trouble.

Shade wrote:

2. You are mining in a cave when something goes horribly wrong. Somehow, the cave has begun to fill with water, and it is rising very rapidly to the top. Seven of you are in this section of the cave, and you frantically rush for the exit, which is a small hole in the roof of the cave. Unfortunately, one of your fellow miners is extremely large, and finds himself wedged in the hole. If he's not displaced, the rest of you will surely drown. Your only means of doing this is with a stick of dynamite that one of you has. Would you be willing to detonate the dynamite and kill the stuck miner in order to save the others?"

Belle spoke very quietly. This question had taken her off guard. The first riddle had been so simple, and even had a logical answer, but this one was far more open ended. "I...um..." Belle had to think more. "I don't think I would be able to end his life, but if it came down to it I guess I would have to ask someone else to detonate the dynamite. If it would help save the other miners I guess..." Belle thought a little more before speaking again. "I guess, if I didn't detonate the dynamite, everyone would die including the stuck miner, since he was stuck. I guess it goes down to everyone dying or one person dying." Belle looked down at her bare feet, that riddle made her uncomfortable.

Shade wrote:

3. You have discovered that your government is not, in fact, run by the officials you elect to office, but instead by a small group of all-powerful oligarchs. You have very convincing proof of their existence and could reveal it to the world. Doing so, however, would risk internal strife or perhaps other nations attacking you. Is it better to keep the truth concealed and maintain stability or risk all-out war for the truth?

This question went right over Belle's head. She was a bit too young to understand how elections work and have the country is run. She had no idea what an oligarch was. She decided to guess. "Um...the one about maintaining stability."

Shade wrote:

"4...what is your favorite Disney princess?"

Belle perked up significantly at this question, as if forgetting how upset the second question had made her. Oh man this question was hard, there were so many great princesses. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty were so pretty and had amazing singing voices. And Belle always had a place in her heart for very good reasons. She was pretty much convinced her parents named her Belle because of the princess. (If this was indeed true, her beast like powers would be very ironic). In the end, Belle's most favorite princess would have to be..."Princess Tiana! She is beautiful, can sing really good and is hardworking!" It reminded her for some reason of her mother.

And for a moment she was horribly homesick. She wondered when she was going home.

Shade wrote:

5. You are sentenced to die, but may choose any means of execution you wish. What do you select?

"Um...I guess the quickest and most painless way possible." Belle has never put too much thought into dying. But before she could think about this any more, Livvy spoke to her. Belle smiled, all of her childish joy returning to her. "Yeah! I think they are very neat!" Belle briefly wondered how light up shoes worked. "You think you could get me a pair?" Belle asked, a large amount of astonishment and excitement in her voice. She then smiled to the bear, waving to it back. "It's nice to meet you both! My name is Belle!" She shook Livvy's hand with great gusto, yep all they needed now was a secret handshake.

And suddenly the group was moving again. Belle kept close to Livvy, maybe for the comfort of being near a friend or maybe it was for her comforting glow. It wasn't like Belle was struggling to see in the dark anyway, for whatever reason she found herself able to navigate pretty well. Everything was happening too quickly for Belle to understand, why were they in a jungle? Weren't they inside a moment ago? Trial? As if by instinct Belle dropped down, crouching slightly. She didn't understand what was happening. And she was Scared.