LOCKED TO alchemicals

[deaftly]

[He doesn't remember anything. All he knows is that there's a bright light in his face and he just wants to sleep. After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning he finally opens his eyes and sits up. The room he's in is perfectly white, without any sort of interesting features. There's a desk and a chair, but nothing on either of them. They're as white as the walls and floor, and on closer inspection, the bed he's in is just as white and spotless as the rest of the room. The sheets are a bit on the stiff side even though he's been sleeping under them, and the bed is kind of hard for his liking, so he finally squirms out from under the covers and stands.

The clothes he's wearing strike him as being wrong, though he can't recall what the "right" clothes would be. They're white - like everything else - and they're very simple. He doesn't have anything to compare them to, but the material is soft and kind of thin and feels a little odd. He shrugs off his confusion about the clothes and starts for the door. Even the doorknob is white, which strikes him as strange for about half a second before he yanks the door open.

The room that he enters is spacious. Like the room he woke up in, everything is white. There's a sofa, a small table in front of the sofa, and a couple of plush chairs. There's a couple of doors leading elsewhere, and his first order of business is to see where they lead. One leads to a perfectly white kitchen which isn't interesting right now (though some part of him wonders if the food will be just as white) and the other door he comes to is locked. There should be a front door around here somewhere though, right? He doesn't want to be here. He can't remember why he's here (or anything, really) but being here doesn't seem right.]

Comments

[alchemicals]

Huh. That...doesn't look like anything I recognize at all.

[...]

This is weird as hell.

[deaftly]

It's definitely familiar, but I don't know what it's called.

[He puts the pen back down and pushes his bangs back again. Unsurprisingly, they fall back in his face.]

Oh, wait, hang on-- Maybe the writing on our hands is in a different language!

[...he's a little slow.]

What language do you speak?

[alchemicals]

[...Good question, actually.]

...I don't...

[Mnnnngh. After a moment he'll just be taking that pen.]

Zolf J Kimbley

It looks like that.

[deaftly]

[Naki studies what Kimbley wrote, tapping a finger to his chin in thought.]

...I recognize a couple of letters, but that's it. I definitely can't read it. But it's the same as how our names are written, so...

[So what?]

...I dunno.

[He shrugs helplessly. This has been nice, but he really doesn't understand what it's told them, other than apparently they write in different languages.]

Ah, wait, hang on-- if we're writing in other languages, how are we understanding each other? I mean unless one of us knows two languages and can only write in one, I'm not really seeing how we're able to understand each other.

[alchemicals]

[...Honey, you're a little slow, aren't you.]

Yeah, I don't get it either. I don't think you'll recognize anything else about what I usually speak, either.

[He pauses for a moment before writing down a few other phrases.]

Befolgen Sie das Militär.
Sie nicht verwandeln Geld.
Verwandeln Sie nicht den Menschen.

That's what it looks like, if it tells you anything.

[He kind of linefaces for a moment before something seems to occur to him.]

...So if we can't understand each other at all, we probably didn't know each other at all before waking up here, right?

[deaftly]

[Naki stares at the words for nearly a minute, but he can't make out any of them.]

...How come that A's got some weird dots over it?

[Well, apparently he's got his priorities in order. After a moment he lets the question go and returns to the more important matters.]

I think you're right. I can't read whatever that is and you can't read whatever I was writing in, so we probably wouldn't have known each other. We're still speaking the same language which is... weird, but I doubt we knew each other. Hell, we might not even be from the same country. But that raises a lot of questions. If neither of us are responsible for why we're here then who is?

[alchemicals]

...Because that's how the stupid word is written. I'm not a linguist, I don't know.

[SIR...]

But that...yeah, I don't know, but it's going to piss me off. You don't remember anything about what you were doing before this?

[deaftly]

...Liquidist? Is that even a word?

[Well, at least he wasn't too far off...]

I don't remember anything. I don't even really remember if Naki's my name. It sounds familiar and I feel like it fits, but... It's like I don't have any memories. I dunno.

[alchemicals]

[...Wh...]

...Okay. So let's just assume for now that we don't have each other's names written on our hands for whatever stupid reason, just to keep from doing our heads in. Do you recognize the stupid design above it?

[deaftly]

Oh, yeah, that's a barcode. What, you don't recognize it? It's on everything you want to buy, isn't it?

[alchemicals]

No...? Why the hell would it be?

[deaftly]

Huh? Well, it's so that the cashier can scan it and bring up the price and shit, then you pay for it. You really don't have those?

[alchemicals]

...Scan...it...?

[It's really obvious that he has no idea what's going on, um.]

I mean, we have pricing lists and stuff - you enter the price into the till so you can get the drawer open and all that. I don't know what the hell you're - "bringing up the price"?

[deaftly]

Till? The fuck's a till? No, but the guy just scans the barcode and I guess the computer looks it up and finds the price or something? I never bothered to ask how it works, it's just how all stores work. I mean pretty much everything has a barcode. That's just how it's done.

[This is really strange. Naki runs a hand through his hair again.]

We really must be from different countries or something, 'cause every store I've ever been in has barcodes on shit.

[alchemicals]

The...register? Where you put the damn money you get. The machine itself, that's the till.

[God, what the crap.]

But you're saying that things you buy get that sort of thing put on them. Nothing else?

[deaftly]

...Pretty much everything's done electronically now, but I guess that's what happens when they open the drawer...

[Huh. Naki studies his hand for a moment, taking in what Kimbley has to say.]

Yeah, it's only put on shit stores are selling, so...

[...]

Oh my god. Did we get involved in human trafficking or something!?

[NAKI]

[alchemicals]

...Thank you for saying that shit so I didn't have to!

[THIS IS GOING REALLY WELL, UM]

[deaftly]

Holy shit. That's--

[...wait.]

Hang on, something's wrong about this.

[Naki frowns and opens his hand to stare at the barcode again. There's nothing strange about the barcode, and while the name is odd, that's not what he's looking at. He rubs at the barcode furiously for a moment before giving up and setting his hand back down on the table.]

I think it's a tattoo. If it's a tattoo then I guess that makes some sort of sense. It's branding us as their property or something, I guess. But why would they put our names? And why the fuck would they put us in here? This is way too comfy for human trafficking, isn't it?

[He's not actually sure, but he'd imagine the people doing this wouldn't want to spend any more money on them than is absolutely necessary. This seems far too nice.]

[alchemicals]

[Actually that...is a valid point, hang on.]

...Maybe someone bought us? Like we're someone's pets or something.

[deaftly]

I... guess? Yeah, that might make sense. But I don't get it, why would they put us somewhere like this, unless...

[Naki freezes, eyes narrowing as he thinks.]

Hang on. That room-- the one we woke up in. It didn't have any windows, did it? But it was bright when I woke up so...

[He gets up from the chair slowly and makes his way back to the room, hesitating at the door.]

...You think it's a one-way window there? We can't see them, but they can see us?

[alchemicals]

...Shit, maybe.

[He'll just be getting up and wandering over there with you, if you don't mind.]

What sort of sick asshole does this kind of thing?

[deaftly]

I... I don't know.

[Naki finally pushes open the door and approaches the wall. The thing he thought was a window letting in sunlight definitely is bright, but it's not a window. It looks sort of like glass, but he can't see through it. He slams his hand against it just to test; it's very thick, as expected. While they probably could fit through there, breaking it probably isn't an option.]

Shit...

[He steps back from it carefully. There's something about this that is striking him as terrifying - far more so than he'd normally think. At least, that's what it seems like.]

This is really fucked up...

[He's not sure what to say or do though, so he falls silent, absently clenching and releasing his fists.]

[alchemicals]

...Damn it.

[The words are quiet, just under his breath; what follows is decidedly less so.]

Hey, don't be freaked out, okay? We're going to get the fuck out of here.

[...And that is when he goes from zero to completely pissed in approximately point-six; it takes him no time at all to join Naki at the glass, slamming his hand against it roughly three or four times before just kind of letting loose at it.]

Motherfucker, I know you're watching this shit! Get in here like a fucking man so I can beat your ass!!

[deaftly]

[It's weird, but he appreciates the words. They don't do much to settle him, but it looks like his companion's outburst is enough to redirect Naki's energy. Panicking isn't going to solve anything, he knows that much. Banging on the glass and shrieking probably won't either, but it sounds way more productive. With a grin that doesn't look entirely sane, Naki joins Kimbley in banging on the glass.]

You son of a bitch, let us out! I'm not gonna stay fucking cooped up in here for your amusement!! Let us out or we'll fucking break out!

[He slams his knuckles a bit too hard on the glass and there's a distinct sound of something cracking.]

Ahh-- shit--

[Naki pulls back to examine his hand, wincing. Uncurling his hand isn't an option right now and already blood's starting to well up from the injury. His middle knuckle is smashed to all hell and the others aren't looking much better.]

Shit-- Fuck...

[It hurts, he can't deny that, but for some reason it doesn't seem all that surprising. He really should have been more careful...]

[alchemicals]

[...Well, at least that managed something, though admittedly "breaking the fuck out of Naki's hand" wasn't exactly what he'd planned on managing.]

What the-

[And once again he finds himself just sort of staring; he has absolutely no idea what to do with that, but he does know it kind of weirds him out in a way that he can't really explain outside of "god, why wouldn't you be more careful with your hands"...]

Are you going to be okay? I don't do first-aid shit - or I guess I might but I don't remember how...