Log:What Yonder Mystery Doors
Once again, the Defender can be found outside of his room which is rare, or was supposed to be. But with what happened yesterday, with someone killed while attempting to attack another, he isn't keeping himself inside. The parlor is quiet enough right now where he can quietly tend to his thoughts. In his hand is a large cup of something hot, and this time instead of coffee, he's enjoying some hot chocolate, putting the dispensary's unlimited selection to use. The Defender is occupying one of the arm chairs, his gaze slightly slitted while looking across from where he is sitting, staring past whatever is there while deep in thought.
Luckily for those that can't stand -- or are sick of -- the Westerns, the television is currently shut off. Instead, the radio has been turned on. The radio which only plays classical music. It's at least a nice break in the routine. The Hunter appears from the hall of doors upon doors upon... dressed in what has become uniform. Oh, her wardrobe has plenty else, but she's been cycling through the same few things. When you don't have to worry about laundry, it becomes easy. Black athletic shorts, pale blue tee. Her hair is left loose as it dries from a shower and she's just in socks for the moment.
The woman's trail towards the dispensary stalls as she passes the pair of new doors and a furrow forms in her brow as she stops to stare at them. Arms cross over her abdomen as she settles back on her heels. "I keep fantasizing that there's daylight on the other side," she says quietly. "But the reality is its probably another section, just like this one. Another lounge. Another hall of doorways. Another group of people, just as lost as us."
The Defender's outfit selection hasn't changed, it is almost as if he is going to work everyday and the office is basically this facility dressed in his buttoned up shirt and slacks. When the Hunter finally speaks, his gaze refocuses and eyes glances in her direction before remembering to take a drink from his hot chocolate. "If there is another group, I'm surprised they haven't pounded on the door." A pause as he looks to the door, which he didn't know was a new addition to this room, "And I also doubt that the door leads outside... it would be too easy. Part of me doesn't even want to know what is on the other side, as chances are, it won't be good."
Taking a few strides to approach the door, the Hunter puts her hands on it and brushes fingertips over the surface. "No marks. No symbolism." She touches the knob, almost hesitant to try it... even though she has before. "Aren't you the least bit curious? This place does everything it can to keep us alive. Up to and including resurrection. Why would it do something terrible after all that?" She leans back and away, turning to face the Defender now.
"Why not? This place or the people in charge of this place keeps sending us back to some sort of horror. It always starts with some illusion of normal life, and then all hell breaks loose." The Defender says, apparently not exactly content with the facilities of this place, even with that cup of hot chocolate in his hands. "It's almost as if they are trying to mess with our minds, maybe trying to see how much it will take to break us." Looking towards the Hall of Rooms, he can only shake his head slightly, "It already has gotten to one person here, though I haven't seen someone step out that was crazed yet. Haven't seen the woman who was the intended victim yet either."
Marching himself out onto the Parlor, The Soldier arrives with an almost confused expression on his face. Seems he's exploring this 'Facility' which is both unfamiliar and familiar to him at the same time. The horrors explored previously seemed to have left a small, vague imprint but otherwise he appears stable. Black jacket, cup of whiskey in his hand. He notices The Defender and the Hunter. "Oh, uh, hello." he greets. Approaching them as he seems to be taking an extended observation of his surroundings. But he takes a breath. "What is this place..." curiosity turned to caution as he slowly starts to remember. This place is like a horror recover program. Times insanity.
"You aren't wrong," the Hunter says, biting at her lower lip. "But despite what we did last time we were here, things didn't get worse this time. In fact, they got..." she turns away from those two doors and her curious inspection of them to gesture at the television -- currently off -- and the radio -- currently on, playing quietly -- both. "better, perhaps? Last time we only had the piano for entertainment. Maybe we're being... rewarded?" She sighs, lifting a hand to rub at her scalp, beneath damp hair. "I don't know, Anton." She starts to turn towards the dispensary, but stops to look at the Soldier. There's a furrow of brow as she takes him in.
That furrow turns to a sort of uncertain, almost... suspicious gaze. "Are you... who are you?" Not someone she's seen before. Not someone she recognizes. And sure, she doesn't and can't know everyone, but the rest of them have been 'back' a number of days now! She looks to the Defender, perhaps, in case he knows! "I'll... be right back." And it's off to the dispensary she steps for a moment. Likely for a drink of her own.
The new arrival cuts off any response the Defender may have had for the Hunter but his attention shifts immediately to the Soldier as the other man makes his arrival. Eyes narrow slightly and it seems like the Defender has some recognition of this new person, "Halloway?" He doesn't sound exactly certain. Problem with having two different lives inside his memories, it makes things a bit fuzzy, harder to recall certain details. The head of Special Tactics was not someone that the Defender has interacted with much when they were on the NOC but he was still one of the Marshals.
Halloway glances to the Defender, a look of recognition on his face. "Kinneson?" He recalls his fellow Marshal, even if they rarely if ever directly worked with each other. Memories inside of memories cause Soldier to hold his head lightly. "Well, atl east it's good to see a friendly face." he looks then to the Hunter. "...you were that security contracter right? Thorne?" He recalls knowing //of// her and reading a dossier at some point. Face to a picture. He sips his drink then. Well...this is a day.
When the Hunter returns, it's with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a glass caught up in the same fingers. In her other hand is a bowl holding something that looks like some sort of noodles and chicken. Thin noodles -- vermicelli, perhaps? -- and the various greens and spices make it smell Asian in origin. She's got a fork in it rather than chopsticks, though. The woman casts one more glance to the door before she aims for a seat instead with a corner of coffee table near enough. She sits down, setting the food aside so she can open the bottle and pour herself a few fingers of liquor. "I was Thorne," she affirms, casting a glance to the Soldier. "Can't say I know who the hell you are... or were." Passed like ships in the night, apparently.
The Defender nods his head to the Soldier in response, confirming that he was indeed Kinneson in his previous life when they were on the Noc, "So I guess you're stuck in this limbo with the rest of us..." With the Hunter's return, the Defender spots the bottle of whiskey and can't help but smirk in amusement. That is one common denominator that he has noticed whenever he sees her, she usually has some sort of alcoholic drink with her. "Never though of having whiskey with noodles before."
"Looks like it...don't remember dying. Was it all just one big test of mental fuckery?" The Soldier sighs before he seems to take a seat as well, looking to the Hunter. "Yeah well, that happens when people don't meet. Feelings mutual. I used to be Halloway. Special Tactics for the Marshals. Good fucking job we did..." of keeping everyone safe. or trying to. Clearly it wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about before he looks to the Hunter. "What's with that door? Saw you two making plenty of gestures to it."
"Whiskey," the Hunter says to Defender as if sharing an immense wisdom, "goes with anything." As if to punctuate her point, she sets down the bottle and lifts up the glass to take a drink. There's a look over to the Soldier and then back to the doors themselves. She has another sip before setting the glass down. It's a strange conversation backed by the classical music spinning out from the radio as it is. "Well," she begins, then hesitates. There's a slight lean forward in her seat as she takes in a deep breath. "Well," she continues, "they're new. Our last trip through here they weren't there. But they won't open, either. So they aren't someone's room... but no one has any fucking clue where they go, either."
Last trip through? That might be of curiousity to Halloway there. If he has only one memory of this place. Or does he? After setting her glass back down, the Hunter reaches for her meal instead and glances back to the man. "What was... waking up like? Seems some of us struggled more than others. One... mmm. Sounds to be especially violent, currently. Or was last night at least."
The Defender pretends to look enlightened when the Hunter informs him that the whiskey pairs well with all types of meals, his only comment is a simple, "Oh... I see." Then he falls silent, enjoying his own hot chocolate while she explains why they were talking about the closed door in this room. Instead, the Defender is watching the Soldier, perhaps seeing how the other man is reacting to finding himself stuck in this place.
The Soldier looks upon the Hunter as she asks him such a critical question. "Last trip?" he questions before he answers hers. "Waking up? Felt like any other time waking up. Except with a nasty headache and no idea where or who I was for a few minutes." He shrugs before he looks to The Defender. "She's right on that. Whiskey goes with everything." he shrugs before he looks to the door. "Interesting. Not many places here that's locked."
"A number of us have been here before," the Hunter says, turning her fork slowly in the noodles. "Like Kinneson here." There's a look to the Defender. "I knew him better as Anton, on an island. I died there in an explosion." She has a few bites of her meal as her attention shifts back to the other man. "Mmm. Headache. Wonder if that relates to how you died on the Noc. Or just circumstance..." She shrugs, prodding fork back into bowl and digging around for some chicken. "You'll remember more... of the station at least. What came before... not so much. That's always fuzzy. Reminds me of photographs, really. Like I can remember bits and pieces, but it's like remembering a story rather than the actual thing."
The Soldier shakes his head. "Don't know anyone from any island." he states then. Guess this is his first time 'shifting' to another 'story'. But! He shrugs. "I didn't die. I remember watching as people blew themselves up to take out the aliens...how we saved as many as we could while holding back some kind of monster." he rubs his head. "I think so. and I'm already starting to remember multiple pieces...but they're vague."
"I was one of those people," the Hunter says quietly, casting eyes down briefly at her left leg. She shifts a bit. "Well... sort of. Died right before the explosion went off." Death by xenomorph. She chews briefly at her lower lip as she pushes the noodles around before she takes another bite. "It'll come back to you," she says around her fork, words slightly garbled. After swallowing, she sets the bowl aside and just opts to go for her whiskey again. Seems the better bet. "The... station itself. Not the rest. That just stays fuzzy. Same as.. well, worse than whoever you are outside of this place. None of that ever comes back."
The Soldier nods softly to The Hunter. "I'm sorry." Another person he couldn't help save. But you can't save them all. He nodded very softly to her, sipping on his whiskey in long-winded fashion before he lets out a shudder. "Freaks you out when you think about it...But my question is: who put us here?"
After the Soldier finishes one of his sips of whiskey, the Hunter leans forward to grab the bottle and offer a refill. "Well," she says, "that's the million dollar question." Pause. "Or one of them, at least." Her lips curl in a slight smile. "Why are we here? Who controls this place? What do they want of us? Who the fuck are we all, anyway?" She gives a bit of a shrug. "No one's got an answer to any of it yet, but we've all got theories."
The Soldier glances to The Hunter, nodding very softly and smiling at the offer, offering his cup for the refill before accepting it back. "I imagine many people do. But either way...none o' this is right." The Soldier sighs very softly before he looks at The Hunter. "so...what do you think is next?"
With her own drink in hand, the Hunter leans forward to rest forearms against knees. She considers the question for a time as she looks down into the glass at the amber liquid. Before responding, she lifts it for a long drink. There's a low hiss of breath as she exhales. "Honestly? I don't know for sure. If the pattern holds... we'll go to sleep one night and wake up as someone else in some other place and time. And when we die, we'll be back here again. Where it'll be, who we'll be, I have no fucking idea."
The Soldier nods softly. "None of it is. To be put in a simulation over and over again that's so real it's like we live a life over and over again." he looks saddened by this. "It's torture. Extended torture." He runs a hand through his hair. "I just hope we can find whoever's doing this."
"Find them and do what?" The Hunter sits up a bit straighter and gestures. "With power like this, what would we hope to do? We can die here and wake up the next day. We go to sleep wherever and wake up in our own beds. Our health is perfect. Needs cared for. Whoever is doing this might as well be gods for all we're capable of." Her voice is bitter and she follows the words with a quick drink. "We're practically ants in the face of this kind of power."
The Soldier sighs a bit. "Kill them, if we can." But then she brings up good points. They want for nothing. They are well fed, healthy, death doesn't exist, and it's basically a paradise with a kink in the system. "I know. I know. But is it really worth going through countless horrors? Where we could die in brutal fashion?"
"Where some of us have died twice now," the Hunter says with a humorless laugh. "But killing them? Shit." She looks over her shoulder, back towards the hallway. "My room is full of weapons and not a damn one of them is worth a shit. It's like they're mocking us, whoever... they are." The woman looks back down to her drink. "I think we might as well be stuck, you know. Just move forward and hope there's an end someday."
The Soldier nods and after a moment of silence? Stands up to his feet. "Well, I guess I'll start trying to figure it out. I'll see ya when I see ya, yeah?"
There's just a sort of grunt of acknowledgement as the Hunter turns in her seat to regard those two doors. Seems she's going to spend a bit contemplating them as she drinks.