nolen little//mh-69 (talkthetalk) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2017-08-18 06:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 090 |
awakening
Who: Lance SOLO
When: Around 5-7 AM, Day 90
Where: Lance's Room
Lance pressed his ear to the door.
Greetings, the phone screen had read, You are here for a reason. Escape is impossible.
The phone was right about one thing: he hadn’t been able to use it to call a car, as he’d planned. But beyond that, nothing was impossible.
There was no sound beyond the door.
With a faint groan and a wince, Lance pushed himself away from the barrier of the door. He needed to sit down, and when he once again found the bed, the needle from the IV lying there on the mattress from where he’d pulled it out of his arm, his body sunk into it.
It wasn’t the first time he’d ever awoken like this: sore, disoriented, naked. Lance covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, than began to peel away his hospital gown. He didn’t want it on. He also tore away the bracelet on his wrist, which bore the subject number 5651RCO5.
It made no sense.
This needn’t be a hardship on any of you, his phone had told him. You can choose to look at your time spent here as a blessing or a curse.
Lance tumbled back into the bed, clumsily shoving the IV and gown away from him. Fine. If there was no escape, he was going back to sleep.
Sleep didn’t come, but about an hour and a half later Lance got out of bed again, anyway. By then, he was still feeling like he’d been hit by a train, but with more coordination, and he discovered the box containing his clothing. His coat was in there, the white button down shirt he’d worn last, his dark wash jeans, his socks, his shoes. His ring.
It makes no difference to us.
His phone wasn’t there, nor his money clip, nor his lip balm. The last one was the real tragedy.
Lance found the phone which … whoever had provided him with. Instead of the letter, this time it showed him something called The Zenith Network. It asked him if he wanted to change his ‘subject number’ to a nickname. No. It asked him to create a password (k-i-s-s-m-y-a-s-s).
Tch.
Lance looked through the network.
Okay, what the actual fuck?
He started typing.