Reality Crisis

It seemed to be an ordinary night in New Troy. The prisoners had been dumped back into their cells after they'd been sedated at the end of the battle royale. The ratings had been higher than ever for the airings of the battle. New Troy was fortunate to still have working electricity to some extent and a lot of effort went into making sure appropriate entertainment was lined up to keep its' citizens happy and distracted from the fact that their world was crashing down all around them.

There were guards stationed watching the entrances, and a few scattered inside the wall. There were currently only two guards outside the cells where the chosen were being kept prisoner. All of them had been left in their cells without any medical attention. Dr. Lucius was already thinking about the next bout of entertainment and was content to let them suffer in their maimed states for awhile. They had been getting too organized. They'd been thinking for themselves too much.

Unfortunately for New Troy, none of the guards saw the rescuers coming until it was too late...

Dean Winchester was back in her camp. Again. This time, there hadn't been a quarantine. Thanks to the wards set up by the wizard, Netvors couldn't pass through the main entrance. Of course, she had left out any mention of the rear entrance because she still needed a way to bring them into captivity for her own purposes.

For now her focus was on the chosen that had returned to her camp. She didn't like that he felt like he could waltz in and out of the camp as he pleased, but for now she needed him. He had apparently brought two newcomers with him. More chosen. It was easy to pick out the chosen few from those native to this world. Everything from their manner of dress to the way they walked was different.

She'd instructed her guards to escort (withour force) the three to meet her. She would call for Dresden soon enough as well. Her spy had revealed that Dr. Lucius had a very powerful playing chip in captivity and Belia knew that if she informed Mr. Dresden that the Archive was in captivity, the wizard would rush off to the rescue. She thought it was better for all involved to make sure that these four worked together. There was a far higher chance of success if they did so, and she couldn't afford to have them fail.

The prisoners were getting restless. Worse than that, they had time to recover in between fights. During that time, they'd begun to talk.

Too much talking meant that it would be easier for them to fight off the effects of the drugs. It meant that they might find a loophole around the security and make an escape attempt.

It also meant that the time was nearing when he would have to rid the city of them all.

For now, Dr. Lucius chose to give his people a spectator sport to truly capture their hearts, minds and imaginations.

He instructed his guards to put all of the prisoners in the ring, along with some of the creatures that they'd captured out in the wilds. He had plans in place to make sure that none of the prisoners would die in the ring. No, that might turn public sentiment away from these little bouts of entertainment. However, he had no problem with any of them getting maimed. If they died later in their cells, away from the public eye, that was just fine by him.

Spike's consciousness started to clear as he was shoved into a small, dank cell. He hit the ground, grunting slightly as he rolled over, the loud banging of the cell door being shut and locked.

He slowly rolled over, blinking as his vision, blurry and jumping for a moment before it slowly came in. It was an effect he had experienced before, not in quite the same way, but….

He slowly looked up, then grunted. Definitely a cell. Small, and with firm looking bars. He pulled himself up, then got to his feet, staggering slightly as pain washed over him. "Whoa… oh, sod it…." he limped forward and grabbed the cell doors, tugging at them. No give, not even a slight budge. "Oh, not again."

Though… this wasn't the Initiative. No. Not nearly shiny and reflective enough to be those buggers again, even if they had somebody popped back up after they were left in ruins. He remembered they were obsessed with sanitation, and that was not… wherever this was. He did somewhat feel like he did after they took him, though, his entire body hurt and his head was a mess. If they'd stuck another chip in there….

"Oi. OI! Who's out there? Where am I?!" he shouted, but to no answer, and his head felt like it was about to split open. He couldn't see much from his cage door, and as another wave of nausea overcame him he buckled, leaning against the door then closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. He remembered the streets of Los Angeles, stalking a big demon from the ocean depths. He remembered catching up to the mountain of scales and muscles and a long, drawn out beating that had left him victorious, but only just barely. He'd stumbled back, unconscious before he hit the ground….

Then it was rock. Rock, and strange smells, and he couldn't see properly. There things everywhere, flying around him then focusing around a pair of demons he'd never seen before. He was someplace new, not even any of the smells had been right, but his life was in danger and he did what came natural to him. He fought until one of them blasted the hell out of him with some shrieking power, it felt like it was going to rip his entire body apart. His hand shot up to his ears, at that memory, and came away red. He was still bleeding, if he'd been human he'd have been dead long before. Even as it was he wasn't sure he'd be alive if the shouting had continued much longer.

And now he was here, somehow, locked up… He pulled off his coat and pulled up his shirt, looking down at himself. He was still messed up from the battle, the scars were fresh, but he'd be fine. He sat down heavily, back still against the bars. No use doing anything but looking, listening, maybe calling out once more, touching his ears and then tasting the blood. At least part of the nausea now was hunger… he had to find something to eat. Soon.

"Whoever the hell is trying something, you should know my captors tend to end up in little bitty pieces all over the sodding room. And I've only gotten grumpier and meaner the more times it's happened!"

Dinah had come to shortly before she was shoved into a gigantic arena. There were rock-like obstacles scattered before her. She was in her fishnets. She frowned. Why was she in her fishnets? This wasn't what she'd been wearing before.... She tried to think of where she'd been before this. Her memory was a little fuzzy, but she definitely wasn't supposed to be here.
There was a weight around her neck, and Dinah's hands went up to lightly tug at the collar. She felt a slight buzz pass through the collar-nothing more painful than a static shock. And then suddenly her heart rate picked up.

Something was here. Something... dangerous.

( Ready, set, go! )

Dinah didn’t know why Dean was staying. A part of her wanted to ask, but not in front of Belia or anyone working for her. So instead she remained silent on the walk back to their quarters. Not to mention that there was a lot to process.

The ‘quarters’ appeared to be an apartment. It smelled of cleaning products of some sort, and it was a fairly generous size. It was furnished, almost as if it had at one time been a home.

She realized with a start that it most likely had. From what she’d seen, there was a lot of city inside the wall. She wondered if there were many people to fill that space. From what Belia had said about the last outbreak, she doubted it.

It was only after she’d had the chance to check the apartment thoroughly for any bugs or anything else that might have allowed Belia to spy on her that she settled into combing through the boxes of comic books. Boxes. As in plural. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

There was a lot to go through, but she made it through quite a few of the books in the time since she’d been shown to her new place. With each book that held memories best forgotten, she’d had to avoid the urge to hit something or throw up. There were a few tear tracks down her cheeks, not that she bothered to pay attention to it.

It wasn’t every second of her life, but it certainly felt pretty damn close. The time she’d been tortured was in there, the time Ollie had kissed Marianne, finding out about his death, starting to work with Barbara.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d been reading and she didn’t notice that she might have missed a meal. All she knew was that everyone here possibly knew too much about her.

( I'll just get back up again )