INTRODUCTION

[vault_tech]

INTRO

Vault 113

You wake feeling groggy. You have the distinct sense of oversleeping, even if you may not recall ever going to bed in the first place. And this bed? Definitely not yours, no matter how comfortable it may be. And you'd probably not go to sleep in your street clothes*, right? Well, maybe it's time to smooth out your bedhead and get exploring!

(*or whatever else you were wearing at the last moment you remember)

The first thing you'll notice is the complete absence of windows - are you underground? Though you'll encounter quite a few closed doors, there are some rooms for you to look through and maybe catch your breath in. Maybe it's time for a slushie in the dining room? Impatience won't get you anywhere!

And what's better than a sweet drink to bring strangers together? After all, you're not the only one who's crawled out of bed a little late today. Mingle and don't worry too hard about your current predicament!

((The Mastermind will introduce themselves at 7pm EST real time.))

NAVIGATION

Vault 113: a short-run murdergame

RULES

GAME INFO

LOCATIONS

PROFILES

IC RULES

MURDER

PCs

CHECK-INS

code credit

Comments

[discodancer]

common room

[ The woman who emerges from Room #1-D has made an effort. Her pale blonde hair has been combed out and rearranged to fall lankly but somehow fashionably around her wan face, whatever she was wearing when she arrived swapped for the complimentary jumpsuit that she manages to wear like it's meant to accentuate her long, lean limbs and the carelessly exposed freckled skin of her chest where the zipper hasn't been closed to the neck. There's not much there, compared to some girls, but what assets she has she's put to work.

She's even managed to salvage some of the remnants of last night's (last week's, even) makeup around her big, soft brown eyes, smearing streaks of clinging black cosmetics into a passable faint smokey look. She steps into the common room lightly, poised and calm, and tilts her head at the people already there. ]

Hi. [ Low, husky, and a little tired. ] Mind if I light up?

dining room

[ Klaasje sits on one of the high stools like a poster advertisement for a soda shop, ankles primly crossed where she has them tucked up on the bottom rail, elbow carelessly propped on the diner counter to support her chin in her palm. She alternates between wrapping her lips around the straw of her bright cherry slushie and letting its tip rest on the full bottom curve of her mouth, her eyes heavy and hooded as they drift around the room.

Maybe those eyes land on you. Maybe she smiles, tiny and ambiguous. Maybe she even raises two fingers from her chin and waves with the tiny smile, hello stamped in the crook of her eyebrows under the heavy fringe of her bangs. ]

dining room

[jiwoonhak]

[ Ji-Woon slinks out of Room # 1-C and naturally catches sight of his neighbor. He isn't following her, necessarily. Just walking in the same limited, predictable paths they've all been granted. ]

Mind sharing?

[ He inclines his head in response to the wave. He'd prefer coffee, really, but when it leads to good conversation... ]

[discodancer]

[ Well, hello, good-looking. Klaasje's smile slants upward, and she inclines her head just as graciously as she slides the slushie to sit between her bar stool and the next one over. She produces an extra straw out of her sleeve and pops it into the slushie beside the one already there, like a magic trick, and never mind why she was stashing a straw away for later. ]

It's too much sugar for me all on my own, anyway.

[ In other words: come on over. ]

[jiwoonhak]

[ Ji-Woon slides onto the bar stool, movements smooth. He crosses his legs and props himself up by his left elbow on the bar, his right hand coming to unhook his mask and tuck it into an inside pocket of his jacket. He's even more ethereally pretty than she could have predicted. ]

That's no surprise. You're too sweet already. [ He grins at her and takes the drink to sip from the straw. ] You know, you look right at home. Do you often finding yourself awaking in mysterious bunkers?

[discodancer]

[ Lustre: He's prettier than you, charming and graceful. The kind of man the world wants to open doors for, and here you are, washed out and still smelling faintly of old fear-sweat and stale smoke. ]

Mm. More often than's good for me.

[ She toys with her straw, spinning it between her fingertips. ]

And you're sweet, to say that, but I think we both know I look like what the tide dredged up. I'd do something awful for a shower.

[jiwoonhak]

It did dredge us both up rather literally though, didn't it?

[ He extends a hand to offer the slushie to her directly, rather than via the stool, and makes a motion with his wrist to draw her attention to the scuffs and dirt on the sleeve of his jacket.

He leans forward, just a little. His voice lowers.] Don't tell anyone... but I think I'd do something awful for a shower just about now, too. Two awful things if laundry's thrown in.

[discodancer]

[ Klaasje takes the straw obediently when it's offered, humming agreement around it as she enjoys another sip of violently red, sweet ice crystals. Her eyelashes shade her gaze as she takes in his poor, abused jacket - and then she laughs, a low, surprised ripple that has her covering her mouth with the back of her hand. ]

Your secrets are safe with me, flotsam.

[ Her hand drops to cover her sternum, instead, fingers fanned out over the swell of her ribs as her lungs fill. ]

Here's to this being one of those all-inclusive kind of places...and I didn't even think to look for a chocolate on my pillow.

[ She puts a little arch affectation into the last sentence, an echo of heiresses and trophy wives from the radio dramas. ]

common room

[nambu]

[ finn doesn't seem to have any interest in her looks, though he tilts his head curiously at her jumpsuit. that's the same one he found in his room, isn't it? ]

You sure it's safe? No windows here. [ not to mention, this place doesn't look to be in peak condition. ]

[discodancer]

If one little cigarette is going to be a problem, I think we're already fucked.

[ No stress, no concern. It might as well be a droll little supper club witticism.

Anyway: she produces a crumpled green pack of cigarettes from her cleavage, flipping open the creased lid and fishing one out bare fingernails. The pack goes back where it came from and she holds the cigarette at an insouciant angle. ]

Spare a spark, stranger?

[nambu]

Sorry, lady, don't got one. [ growing up around lindsey whose most aggressive traits were chronic knitting and spatchcocking chicken and being the oldest among the other kids have left him weirdly selective about what bad habits he picks up. smoking was bad for the kids and also costly, so that was a pass.

but he appreciates her nonchalant attitude in the face of possible mass kidnappings and captivity. ]

I wouldn't say we're not. [ fucked, he means. ] Kinda weird they're letting us talk to each other, though.

[discodancer]

[ It's hard to make out her dark eyebrows behind her bangs, but they've unmistably up. Who doesn't have a lighter, in this day and age?

Well, besides her, and there are extenuating circumstances. Maybe they've all had them confiscated. She should have guessed. Her eyebrows drop, and she smiles, resigned. ]

Fuck.

[ And that's all she has to say about that. They've got other things to talk about. ]

It it weird? It's so much work to keep people from talking. We're always figuring out new ways to do it...besides, you never know what people will talk about, when they're passing the time.

[ Her eyes half-lid, amused at something private. ]

[nambu]

I was there earlier, but there's some high tech robot manning their diner, so maybe you can ask it to light you up.

[ he might not smoke, but he's not here to judge anyone who wants to - or... needs to. he ain't in their shoes, so what would he know? ]

But we're all strangers, right? [ he's preeeeetty sure he doesn't know her. ] I don't recognize any of the others here. Do you? But the more we talk, the more likely we'll band together - and kick the kidnappers' asses as a group! Or something.

[discodancer]

A robot? Like in a radio serial?

[ There's a minuscule undercurrent of laughter in her voice, but it veers to gentleness over meanness, a little indulgent. ]

Isn't that something. [ What a kick; she really has to see that. ] I don't know anybody either...except you, now.

[ Which means, of course, they must be friends, or at least the start of that group he's talking about. ]

So. What should I call you?

Common Room

[underinworld]

Great. The common room will be unbearable for the next few hours, duly noted.

[With how there are no windows Erin is sure this place will be full of smoke for ages! Still, she sighs]

...not that I'll stop you. Light up all you want.

[She doesn't smoke, but Erin knows fully well this is the kind of time when someone would want to smoke. She's not going to get in the way of how others calm down after a kidnapping!]

[discodancer]

[ Klaasje tilts her head at the first objection, patiently, and stays tilted at the immediate concession. Her hair is almost pin straight from root to tip, and hangs still in the stifled air of the closed room. It will be unbearable if she smokes in here.

But, hey - ]

Thanks. [ Casual gratitude, but laced with real relief. ] Can I borrow your lighter?

[underinworld]

I don't have one. But...surely there's a creative way to light something up even without a lighter, no?

[Resourcefulness is a good life skill!

.........

Not that she would know how to light up a cigarrette without a lighter, hah]

[discodancer]

[ There are a lot of creative ways to light a cigarette, but in the absence of a stove, Klaasje is willing to bet that this woman would object to almost all of them. A faint wrinkle of tension forms on her brow, then dissolves.

What can a person do? Life is so often disappointing. ]

Have you seen a hotplate anywhere?

[ Then again: she really does want this cigarette. ]

[underinworld]

There should be one in the kitchen, but the doors keep closing when you get near it. Trying to figure out how to break in is...a work in progress!

[Can you believe it, Klaasje? The most reliable place to get fire is difficult to get in! Now that's just cruel]

[discodancer]

And you're working on it?

[ That is the inference, right? ]

Common room

[howveryglib]

[Gaius thinks about it for a moment, partially due to the fact that damn, someone made that piece of shit jumpsuit work and partially because he wonders if it’s rude to ask for a cig himself in a situation like this…

…well, he should probably ask the most pertinent question first.]

Did they not confiscate lighters or matches from you, then…?

[discodancer]

Oh, they did.

[ Klaasje sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. ]

I guess that means there's no point asking you for a light, either.

[ Disappointing, but not his fault. It was an outside chance anyway. ]

[howveryglib]

Unfortunately, no.

[SIGH…]

It is a strange safety measure to have for a situation like this. Surely there must be effective fire suppression measures if we are this confined…

[discodancer]

You'd think so.

[ At least he can commiserate. ]

But maybe they don't want to take any chances.

[ Who knows what sort of things a creative, determined individual could do with a lighter, a book of matches? A single fucking loose wire and five minutes? ]

[howveryglib]

Perhaps not, but it leaves me somewhat concerned about the quality of the ventilation if something that small could be that much of an issue.

[…]

Or perhaps I have simply hit a point where I would rather not abstain…

[discodancer]

It isn't like we do it for our health in the first place.

[ You can't really believe that breathing smoke is good for the lungs, whatever certain well-paid advertisers hawk about new filters and the calming effects on the nerves. ]

Why don't we make a deal? The first one to find a lighter goes looking for the other, and we find out if we can set the sprinklers off.