InsaneJournal

Who: Silent Bob & Cheryl Mason
What: Experimentation time
When: Sometime in the morning, most likely, but impossible to know for sure
Where: A small sealed cell with no windows or doors and water slowly dripping in
Rating: TBD (Currently probably around R for language and stripper talk)
Status: Active






Cheryl couldn't quite remember falling asleep. Last she remembered, she had been sitting vigil outside of the theater because she hadn't been able, or wanted, to fall asleep. She had just intended to watch the sun finish rising before going inside and checking on things...

...and now here she was, awake and sitting up on a small wooden bench in the middle of a space too small to even be called a room. Her breathing was sharp and panicked as she gripped the edge of the bench with white knuckled fingers and her eyes stared widely at the only other bit of furniture in the room - another bench on which laid the familiar form of Bob. She watched the prone man for a long moment, silently praying that his chest would rise and fall with regular breathing and dreading the second when she'd have to come to terms with the fact that she was alone in this cell with a dead man.

A passing moment killed that fear when it became clear that Bob was breathing slowly and steadily and Cheryl was forced to again face the fact that the fading and reassertion of reality hadn't taken from a nightmare to a better place; rather, it seemed that it had thrown her, and Bob, directly into the heart of something even less comforting.

"Fuck," Cheryl muttered under her breath. She forced her body into motion, standing from her bench and edging to the nearest wall. A slightly unsteady hand began to search the smooth surface for any hint of the flaw or clue that would lead to whatever puzzle could free them from this situation.