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Tweak says, "Bowties are cool!"

Dr. Spencer Reid (awkwardgenius) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-10-24 13:45:00

Entry tags:

active, day 28, experiment, location: bunker, spencer reid

Day 28 - The Bunker
Who: Spencer Reid, and anyone else who is trapped in the bunker.
What: The captives wake up.
Where: Possibly the carnival; undisclosed location.
When: Day twenty eight, time unknown.
Rating: PG-13, may change.
Status: Incomplete; group post; no real posting order. Feel free to start mini-threads between characters if that's easier than everyone chatting together!

His head ached.

It almost felt like he had overslept; his body was tense, his mind was throbbing, and his throat felt like there was something stuck in it. He rolled to the side, the ground hard and cold beneath his face and hands. A low groan pitched from the back of his mouth, echoing loudly around the room. The sound confused him as his brain began to awaken and sharpen, and he lifted his head wearily, looking around.

As his sleep-clouded eyes started to focus, he became aware of his surroundings, his mind taking it all in within a few seconds. He was in some kind of bunker, walls built from what appeared to be steel or some other kind of very strong metal compound, judging from the grain and shine. There was a single door to his left, multiple bolts and locks strapped across the opening, yet there was no handle or knob on the inside. There were shelves against the far wall with food and bottled water stacked neatly atop. Hung on the perpendicular wall to this was a dry wipe board with an eraser and pens on the lip beneath. The board was huge and looked clean, brand new. Next to this was a shelf with what looked like notepads and pens, and a large thick book Reid immediately recognized as a DSM-IV (mostly because it was identical to the one he had tucked away in his desk drawer back at Quantico).

Reid's thin body felt heavy, but he forced his stiff joints to cooperate with him, easing himself up into a crouched position, and then to his feet. His body was untrustworthy and weak as he stood, looking around himself in both surprise and horror. There were other bodies, all alive but unconscious, sprawled around him on the floor, all men with the exception of two women. His eyes ran across the floor to the wall, and his mouth dropped open. A series of monitors, TV screens, were cut into the wall, all blank and switched off.

He reached up shakily and ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his head, before moving forward toward the door and running his hands over the bolts, hinges and rim. The seal of the door was tight, and it couldn't be pushed or pried by his thin fingers. He was trapped, and so were all of these people with him.

He paused for a moment and leaned his head against the door, his heart pounding in his chest at a mile a minute. He swallowed shakily and tried to control his thoughts, tried to keep his mind from panicking, because he was about ready to break down. Experiments. The word repeated itself over and over in his head, both on the paper of his journal and in Connor, Kimberly and the Cajun man's voice.

No, no. He had to focus. He had to stay calm. If there was some kind of human experiment about to occur around him, there was no doubt that there were overseers, and that, as sadists, they would thrive on reactions of fear, panic, shock, confusion and desperation. He turned back to the TV screens cut into the back wall, teeth grazing his lip with uncertainty and fear. He had a feeling that, if someone had taken the time to insert screens into the wall, they weren't going to remain blank forever.

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justmybones
2009-10-24 09:34 pm UTC (link)

Doctor Leonard McCoy in his tattered, dirty Star Fleet uniform had been laid rather unceremoniously on one of the many bunks inside the steel lined room. For what it was worth, with his face in toward the wall and the rest of the captives at his back, it was very difficult for the physician to will himself to turn over and see just what the Management had dropped him into this time.

"I'm gonna roll over on the count of three," came a gruff, groggy sounding voice. "When I do I expect to see my quarters (impossible), a large glass of bourbon, and a bowl of my grandfathers beans." He wasn't talking to anybody else in the room, it was more a motivational image. He could smell the beans, feel the bourbon sliding down his throat and imagine that the mattress beneath him was more Star Fleet standard issue and not the jabby thing he'd been set down on.

Blinking hard he tightened his abs and shifted on top of that bunk, rolling in place and shuffling blankets and clean smelling sheets. This was almost luxury in comparison to the gas station's floor.

He was squinting, looking around to see several people scattered into the room with him, and at least one other person who was conscious. The thinner man, staring with what could only be read as a panicked expression was staring at a collection of monitors at the end of the room. The Doctor rubbed at his own head.

"Oh, just fantastic," he grumbled, pushing down to stand. It was the panic room - he'd seen people beaten to death in this room once.

"You alright?" His words slow and tinged with a hint of Mississippi in their vowels. "You haven't been here too long, have you?" The physician's arms crossed. No sense letting the other man panic. "I'm McCoy. Leonard McCoy," he extended his hand to the shaken man.

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awkwardgenius
2009-10-24 09:56 pm UTC (link)

The sound of the man's voice startled Reid, and he immediately whipped his head around to face the source of the noise. He swallowed thickly, watching him roll over and stand up. Bourbon. Heh. Honestly, Reid wouldn't have minded a glass of brandy at that moment, speaking of alcohol.

When the man addressed him, Reid nodded almost mechanically, forcing his chin to jerk up and down in acknowledgement. He wasn't alright, he was far from alright. But mind over matter. People judged that theory continously, but he knew from first hand experience that, at least for a temporary period, you could cope with anything thrown at you by focusing your mind and 'ejecting' yourself from a situation. Finding your happy place, if you like. He was more than happy to imagine he was back at the office right now, or on the jet. Hell, he would even be happy pretending this was just a psych eval or training scenario, if stamping out his true surroundings grew too hard.

Reid stared at the extended hand for a moment, as if not too sure what to do with it. Eventually, he held out his own, barely gripping the other man's larger hand as he shook weakly. "Doc- Reid, Doctor... uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, I, uh..." He paused, fighting to keep his voice level, to speak slowly and clearly and not stutter. "I woke up about five minutes ago, there's... there are screens on the walls, but they're blank. The door's locked, the seal isn't wide enough to force anything inside to pry it open."

He looked around again. This couldn't be everyone who was being held here. Kimberly and Connor were missing, along with the Cajun man and the younger Californian he'd met when he'd first arrived. The English man he'd met before - Hart, was it? - he could see across the room from him, though.