~Character Chat~

Peter: (uneasily) Alright, then.
(He snaps his fingers, and all the fires extinguish simultaneously. He grabs a confused guard, holds his gun--which he managed to keep--to him, and drags him out of the room. The rest of the team each retrieve their own guns if they lost them and grab more guards.)
Sarah: This feels horrible...
Peter: We're ready now. (He doesn't sound it.)

T.Mor: Yeah- kind of sucks doesn't it? Don't worry...we're not going to hurt them or anything. (Continues with August down the hallways, eventually ducking into a room. It's a dark room, with a bed and some drawers. It's a guest room.) Ok...Those guys need incapacitated...(Rips up a bed sheet and is expertly binding the hands and feet of his co-workers.) Right. Oh here, August. (pulls a mask off one of the imprisoned guards. The maskless guard looks to be about 12.) Don't want them being able to find you that easy. Umm...So- We'll just leave them here and that will buy us a couple hours I hope. Hey you- Are there any guests scheduled for this room? (Asks the maskless one.)
Maskless one: Not that I know of...Sir...(Shakily.)
T.Mor: Good. (Is all buisness again. Talking to the maskless one.) If I hear any of you screaming when we leave this room- Or if I hear an alarm called for us in LESS than two hours...I SWEAR I will march right back in here and put bullets in all of your heads. So just keep quiet for a bit. Ok? I Really don't want to kill you guys. (He really doesn't. He hates killing people.)
M.O.: Yes...Fine. Ok. Silence. Got it.
T.Mor: Ok...So No one will be looking for us for a while. We're now fugitives from the law though...and Riddle is probably in many pieces in the basement giving some poor kid post-traumatic stress. Let's keep going.
August: I'm still bleeding. (Tenatively.)
T.Mor: (furiously) Suck it up. Ok? You're lucky you aren't dead. If it bothers you that much- here.( tears off another piece of bedding.) Wrap it.

Senet: Wow, 'ee ees whiny!
Peter: (seriously, to August) You ever have to cauterize your own wound after you painstakingly pulled a hunk of metal out of your stomach with scarred and bloodstained hands? I don't think so. You know why? Because you're complaining about that tiny little cut. Seriously, shut up. You're starting to annoy me, and I barely know you.
Senet: Zat was 'ees childhood. Petehr was a badass twelve-yeahr-old.

August: (Is shocked.) Some crazy dude started cutting numbers or something into my shoulder! I mean...At home I have a bandaid or something...(Fumbles around wrapping his own shoulder.) I'm sorry I'm not crazy or awesome like the rest of you. I'm just lost and confused...and I don't want to die...
T.Mor: (Smacks.) MY GOD. I have half a mind to march you right back in there and let Riddle's dad carve all the binary in the world into you.
August: NO! Please...I'll shut up...
T.Mor: Good.(To everyone.) We've got to make our way to the basement. Now, I'm going to warn you before hand, It's pretty gorey down there typically. The prison system is a bit of a mess right now with the riots and all. (Thinks aloud to himself) And I don't even know if they've got the morgue working today...(Shakes himself out of it.) Yeah. So it's a bit shocking. Riddle's probably in pretty deep-- It takes a lot to get her to shut up normally. Be prepared to see some dismemberment...and well- we might have to go on a scavenger hunt.
August: (Makes a face.)Dismemberment? (T.Mor glares. You can tell even through the mask that he's glaring.) Oh- right. Shutting up again. Sorry.

Peter: We've seen gore before. We're ready, so lead the way.
(He might sound confident, but the team looks uneasy.)

T.Mor: Wow. You guys are better prepared for my job than I am. (Surprised at Peter's confidence.) Alright. We're going left out of this hallway. (T.Mor tends to recite directions so he doesn't get lost in the labyrinth.) And now we're in the east wing...so, from here it's right then a left, and...(Goes around the corner checking if he's in the right place.) Ok...Down these stairs.

The Hallway downstairs isn't as well lit, but is the most extravagant and over the top one they've passed. There are pillars and doorways leading off left and right. And Artwork, Running the gamut from Davinci knockoffs to divide by zero demotivationals.

T.Mor: And now...Downstairs again...(They go off through a side door and down a rickety old staircase. It smells.) Ugh. So the morgue isn't operating today then. Shame. (He pushes open a door, and Cellblock 1 comes into view. It's not particularly awful, as far as cellblocks go. The cells are rather cramped though, with sometimes more than 5 prisoners per cell.) These are the Rioters from today I guess...And people with lesser violations. This is where I picked up August actually. (Somewhat Nostalgic.) Anyway.

They descend further into the prison, and from cellblock 1 things only get worse.
T.Mor: Block 2...For political prisoners. And Hardcore Rioters. And thieves. (Most of the people in this cell are chained to the wall, and have some form of infected injury or other. They've clearly been here longer.) Hey you. (To an old man with a leg wound.) Have you seen some girl come by here? She was probably yelling, and being hauled by like 3 or more guards?
Old guy: Why should I tell you anything?
T.Mor: I have the fridge keys. I can get you half a can of tuna. Take it or leave it.
Old Guy: You could be lying to me.
T.Mor: I could also shoot you for disobeying. (Shortly.) So. Tell me where she went, and you get fish. I don't see why that's so hard.
Old guy: They went down at least another level.
T.Mor: Tell the Night shift that Namechov said you could have tuna.(Continues walking. The stench has magnified by now, and they hit another staircase. It's a bit slippery from unidentifiable dark liquid on the steps. A wail echoes up from the darkness below.) What ever you see in these next couple floors...Just...ignore it. We're looking for Riddle, and that's all. Don't talk to anyone. Don't throw up either.(Grimly.)
August: Can I wait outside? It sounds like a horror movie in there.
T.Mor: NO. You could be found. (Opens a metal door with a garbled phrase that looks like it should read Employees Only. It's quite a mess, even in the hallways. There's a dead guy on the floor, and someone seems to have tried to fingerpaint with blood across the walls. There's more shrieking, and something goes Thunk against one of the many reinforced doors that line the hallway.) We really ought to get the sanitation committee down here...This is just bad. But I don't hear her. Let's keep going.
August:Oh. God. I want to go back.
T.Mor:Shut up. (They continue down the hallway and there is no deficency of gore. August nearly trips on...something.)
August: What was that?
T.Mor: You don't want to know.
In the distance: WHAT KNIVES? GIVE ME YOUR WORST YOU N00BS. WHERE'S THAT CRAZY SPINE REMOVER THING I SAW LAST TIME? COME ON! T.MOR COULD DO WORSE THAN THAT! HEY--OH. I KIND OF NEED THAT LEG. ALL THIS DISMEMBERMENT IS SOO UNORIGINAL. WHERE'S THE TUNING FORKS? WHERE'S THE GUILLOTINE?
T.Mor: Well. That was easy.

(Uhh...That was quite long. I'm sorry. Tell me if it's creepy though.)

((I think you could go even creepier

Did somebody say divide
by
zero
demotivationals?

General silliness aside...))

(The team is quite stoic as they walk through the hall. They cast their eyes about but say nothing as they move. They're no strangers to blood and violence, but it's disconcerting nonetheless.)
Nike: (finally breaking her silence) And you work here?

(Yeah...My sentiments exactly. I want it to feel like the later levels of this video game--Amnesia. The tourture chambers in that are downright horrifying.
Yes. Divide by Zero. The internet here IS serious busness after all. Demotivationals are practically an art form! )
T.Mor: Yes...Well- not here specifically. At least not usually- I mean You have to take a class to work in anything higher than block 3. You know- general anatomy and woodworking. The art of fear. Some of these cells are rigged so that the occupants can hear each other scream... Builds the psychological terror. Sometimes they go mad before anyone even comes in the room. (Realises he was rambling.) It comes with a pay raise. You won't hate me if I say that I was seriously considering taking the class, just for the pay raise...will you?
Riddle (Closer than she was a bit ago): HOLY CRAP. SERIOUSLY. SERIOUSLY. YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT'S GOING TO TAKE ME TO GROW THAT BACK? DUDE. NOT COOL. THOSE ARE MY BONES YOU FIEND! I NEED THEM TO BE BONY WITH. OR SOMETHING. FINALLY--THAT THING! I hate that thing.
T.Mor: (Knocks on one of the doors. A mask spattered in blood peers out.) Hi. You don't have Riddle in there do you? She has an appointment with a bathtub and an electric chair.
Blood dude: No. She's further down. (Something crashes inside the room, and someone is sobbing.) Can I go now?
T.Mor: Yeah, fine.(The door snaps closed in his face. Some instruent of holy terror is fired up within the room.)

Sarah: I wouldn't blame you. In a world like this... (She trails off.)
Peter: ...You take what you can.
Senet: I steell don't know why you wanted to come back, zough.

T.Mor: Because of My house...And my sister. They're the only things I've got left. And I remember how things were here before it all sucked. It's like I want to stay to seeit go back to normal....I just--
Riddle:T.MOR, STOP BEING SO BLOODY SENTIMENTAL. SOME PEOPLE ARE BEING RATHER BADLY DISMEMBERED HERE...
T.Mor:(Throws open the door that Riddle has been yelling from. It's quite the gorefest. T.Mor refrains from talking straight at Riddle- He has to get the tourturers out first.) I need the girl- Her father wants her for...some reason.
(The torturers pack up and leave silently. They don't tend to talk much.)
Riddle: Those guys were new weren't they? It was noticeable. (Is finishing up screwing her head back on. She manages to make it look only slightly agonizing.) See? Look. (Holds up a pile of what possibly was at one point intestines.) How can I be scared of that? It looks like spaghetti. And I mean---HEY. Where's my femur?
T.Mor:(Surveys the area. Finds the bone. It's oddly clean- There was never any flesh on it to begin with.) Here.
Riddle: YAY! I LOVE YOU MR.FEMUR! YOU ARE MY FAVOURITE BONE!(Inspects it.) Aw. Crap. They broke it. And I don't even have any Duct Tape on me.
T.Mor: I have electrical tape.
Riddle: You can keep it. That stuff couldn't hold two pieces of paper together. Man. I'm going to have to leave my intestines behind. They're all...nasty.
August:(Has lost his cookies. Is shaky.) How come you're nice to her? She's Immortal! She doesn't need the help.
T.Mor: Because otherwise her toes would never go back on in the right order.
Riddle: They're hard to tell apart when there's no skin!(Defensively. Tries to flail her hands to go with that, but the flail fails.) Haha! They stole my tendons! OH...They stole my tendons. And--Where's my kneecap? T.Mor, I'm going to need help walking out of here.
T.Mor:Right...Uhm...(Takes the femur from her.) Can someone hold this? Oh-(Put's it inside Riddle's empty combat boot.) Yeah. Someone please take that- Unless you want to haul Riddle around.
Riddle: I need a shower. I'm sticky. And a costume change. (Reaches the good arm up to T.Mor. He pulls her to her foot.)
T.Mor: (Tries to pick her up. The other foot falls off.) Lovely.

((I lol'd when Riddle proclaimed how much she loved her femur xD))

(The team has looks of shock and disgust on their faces. Sarah is doing her best to contain her toast and jello. She's the newest of the group.)
Senet: Euh, zehre's an easiehr way.
(He puts his arms out in front of him with his palms facing up. With a light flick of his wrists, Riddle and all her parts are lifted on cusions of air. Moving his hands, Senet does his best to put things where they should be. He continues to hold his arms out, keeping her aloft.)
Senet: Sahrah, you and I weell take tuhrns.
Sarah: Er, okay.
Peter: Fantastic. Let's get moving, then.

(I love that line too!!)
Riddle: No way. I'm FLYING! THIS IS AMAZING! Dude! I could be like superman or something! Or...Limb girl.
T.Mor: Limb Girl?
Riddle: I thought it made sense...So. How much time do we have?
T.Mor: Probably another hour. Maybe two.
Riddle: Well then I have time to make myself presentable! TO UPSTAIRS!!!

Cue more hallways. After some traveling they arrive at Riddle's private rooms, which are rather messy, and look like an entire death metal band takes up residence there.
Riddle: T.Mor! Go get the water running. I MUST BE LESS STICKY.
T.Mor: (Turns on the bath, and simply starts dumping bits of Riddle into it, starting with the beloved femur.) You can take it from there...
Riddle: Now my clothes are all wet too....Man. This is just not my day.(Complaining through closed bathroom door.)
T.Mor: Sarah- you ok? You looked a little green for a bit there...

Sarah: (adamantly) I'm...fine...
Peter: (with a dark chuckle) You'll see worse sights than that now that you're in this line of work. A decent amount of the blood will be your own, too.
Sarah: Greaaaaat. Aren't Scouts supposed to not fight?
Peter: Stuff goes wrong. Why do you think we're trained for combat, anyway?

T.Mor: I think you're managinig a lot better than August...(August is sitting on the edge of the bed looking traumatized.)
Riddle:(From in the bathroom. You can hear water still running.) He always looks like that.
T.Mor: You can't even see him. (There's a smile on his face anyway.)
Riddle: I know what he looks like. And he looks traumatized. ALL THE TIME. You'd think someone was trying to kill him or something...(Pause) Oh. Well, there's that.
T.Mor: (Returns to the original conversation.) and also--At least we never have to find Riddle dead. I mean...If it ever gets to be you down there though...(Shudders.)
Riddle: So- Immortal Life is Cheap then? Is that what I'm hearing? Where's my...oh. Nevermind. I found it.
T.Mor: You get torn apart every other week here. It's less and less scary the more it happens. And you're not really in pain...(Something he's told himself over and over again, but never bothered to confirm.)
Riddle: You really think that? Dude- I'm a better liar than I thought I was. AHA! One of them llittle wrist bone thingydos! SCORE!

Nike: So you do feel pain, Riddle?

Riddle: Sort of...But it's really disconnected. Like- It's all well and good to have my head torn off- but its like...ITCHY or something...like...Yeah. And getting everything to fit back together is absolute torture. and also Decomposition. Seriously. If you want that feeling- dip yourself in stomach acid 2 to 5 times then simmer over an open flame. Especially Sans formaldehyde and while running. I HATE RUNNING. (Things can be heard loudly popping back into place through the door.)

Nike: Yikes. No offense, but I'm glad I'm not immortal.

Riddle: Yeah. But on the plus side...I can eat things like... spoons or old cheese or radioactivity or...well- formaldehyde-which is apparently poisionous. Somehow. And I don't die. EVER. Which is nice. But maggots? Not so nice. (Pauses. Considering.) No offense to any of you all-- I'm glad I'm NOT mortal.

Peter: You can keep your immortality, then. I'd rather not have my innards strewn about a room. (to T.Mor) So what's next?

T.Mor: I guess we run. I mean...As soon as Riddle's dad figures this all out...figures out that we're not all slowly bleeding out in some cell...We're screwed. So- we should throw together some supplies...Food and stuff--and head for SInk Pump.
Riddle: Can someone throw me a new pair of clothes? these ones are all...uhm...not good.
T.Mor: (Digs through Riddle's relatively large closet to find something that isn't covered in chains, or reminiscent of some steampunk convention. He finally settles on black capri-looking things, a somewhat straight-jackety black jacket and a shirt with words on it.)Here.
Riddle: (A white, still somewhat skinless hand reaches out of the bathroom, and takes the black pile. After some shuffling Riddle shambles back outside, and it's evident that she patched herself up mostly with duct tape. The white femur bone is just visible above her old combat boots.) We're out of tape.
T.Mor: Everyone is Riddle.
Riddle:(pulls three fingers out of her pocket. Her tendonless arm swings uselessly.) YEAH? well- not everyone needs it to reattach LIMBS!
T.Mor: Not now- we need to get out of town. Like...now. You're walking again right?
Riddle: (unsure.) Probably. I mean- I am standing here. Lemme grab my preservatives though. Before we leave.

Sarah: Er, do the skin and the tendons grow back, or...?

Riddle: Yeah. It takes a while...If I was patient enough the fingers would grow back too. However, the flesh on my leg hasn't grown back in years... That's why it's so calcified.(Shows off her femur.) I think I did something wrong with it when I was little.

Sarah: Eugh!
Nike: How will you even be able to move that leg without muscles? Or is it only the flesh, and not the muscles, that doesn't grow back?
Peter: Can we discuss this while we prepare for the trip to SInk Pump? I'd like for us to be on our way as soon as possible.

Riddle: No...it's everything...I mean- it's a femur bone...I used to have a little tin of Phlebotnium, but I ran out a bit ago, and as long as I don't dismantle the thing it works alright...
T.Mor: Not to interrupt or anything...but can we take this conversation to the kitchen? We kind of need food...to keep being alive...(They start the walk to the kitchens.)
Riddle: We HAVE a kitchen? Seriously?
T.Mor: yeah.
Riddle: Oh. (Walks sort of awkwardly. She stops every couple of yards to pop something back into place in her knee.) So...anyway. My awesome femur. It's normally fine-- I mean, it's a lot lighter than the other leg, so I had to put a lead weight in my boot. Which is great when you need to kick somebody in the face. But like...now? I'm STILL missing that kneecap so the femur and that...other bone...keep sliding around...And Duct tape doesn't provide the proper kneecap simulation...Other than needing that kneecap though- I have no idea why it works. It shouldn't work. At all. I mean- look!(She flops the tendonless arm) HOW come THAT doesn't work- bu the leg does? They're both missing muscly junk...I mean- The arm should work- if the leg does. RIGHT?
T.Mor: I think the phlebotnium kept it from growing back...Or your astounding lack of mortuary skills at the time.
Riddle: I was always falling to pieces as a kid...(nostalgically.)
August: Can we talk about something less...uhm...less? (Still not sure if he's allowed to talk again.)
Riddle: What? Anatomy is freaky? Do I creep you out? (Grins evilly. It's evident that she learned that smile from her dad.)
August: A bit...

((We're doing Urinetown in our school drama this spring Yes, that's what it's called. Are you familiar with it? :3))

Nike: You know? I think I'll stop questioning things. Especially things having to do with Riddle.
Peter: It's probably for the best.