#trappedwithnightmares

Nice.

plotted starter

"Warning! Smoke detected in main corridor! Warning! Smoke detected in main corridor!"

The alarms draw the crowd faster than the flames do; the fire itself is unimpressive, more smoke than anything else. It looks impressive, though, from a distance. More drama than danger.

He'd expected more excitement from a ship with such advanced technology. He's not sure why. A space ship is a space ship, and this certainly isn't a TARDIS. Maybe it's not so much that he expected more from the ship; he expected more from the crew. But, they're boring, oh my god are they boring. He knows how it all fits into his plan; that this is where he needs to be right now.

But… the days are blending together. Nothing that secretly setting a tiny little electrical fire can't fix. He's carefully calculated it; nothing large enough to disrupt the functions of the ship. Worst case scenario, it gets out of hand and they lose a few expendable background characters. Whatever. Who cares?

"Stand back everyone! Stand back! Your Ma-" Feigned coughing fit covers his almost mistake; hypnosis smooths over the situation for anyone who still notices. "Your newest, bravest, crewmate will save you!"

Fortunately for everyone, their savior already has a fire extinguisher in his arms. Though he'd waited for the crowd to begin gathering before grabbing it, it had been waiting just a few feet away in the corner; Of course, his power of persuasion prevents anyone from finding that suspiciously convenient.

When Dwight comes to consciousness, he's standing on the upper level of a crashed and decaying ship. It's always like this. He just wakes up here, and there's never anything that can be done to avoid it. The location is always different, but there's only so many that the entity rotates them through. The swamp isn't one of the best, but it isn't one of the worst either. It's easier to hide in the cornfields.

Here, on the upper level of the ship, he's exposed. He crouches immediately upon realization, though, if the killer had been looking in the right direction, he would've been seen already. He crawls towards the edge, takes a deep breath, and stands up just enough to peak out.

There's advantages to being up so high at the center of the map. Though he could be seen, he's also able to see. The swamp looks the same as always; tall grassy plants and dead trees, a smaller dilapidated boat not far from the large one he stands on. A shack near the locked exit gates. Generators. Metal boxes with little puppets sitting on top. Shit. Fuck..!

He stands fully and takes a few large steps back, away from the edge, towards a nearby locker, once bright red but now faded and chipping. He can't handle Amanda. His hand instinctively goes to his cheek, brushes over the spot where no physical scar remains, but he remembers. Even if the wounds always heal, there's no forgetting what it feels like to have your jaw torn apart from the rest of your face. He remembers the first time he felt it, remembers seeing the exit gate, thinking he would make it out. You can't take the traps with you. He learned that the hard way.

He glances at the locker, then over his shoulder towards the edge of the ship. He knows he can't hide forever. He knows the others aren't going to survive as a team of three. He looks all around himself for any sign of her. Nothing. He moves towards the edge again. 

He can see a lot from his position. Blue hair working on a generator in the distance. Feng Min, a young Chinese girl. She's good at gens. Okay. They're okay. If he can just make it over to her, they can work faster together, and they'll be a fifth of the way to safety, and he'll survive. They'll all survive. They have to. 

He hops off the side of the boat; he knows by now that drops from such heights can't hurt him anymore. He still lets out a little yelp when he lands. He's on his way towards Feng when he sees movement in the distance and instinctively freezes, crouches. But, it isn't Amanda. Too tall. Bright red hair is a giveaway, too. It's difficult to see their face from so far away, but he can tell from the way the other survivor doesn't yet hide that he must be new. He doesn't know the rules of the game.

Dwight breaks into a run, briefly, then slows back down to crouch. He needs to get to the man quickly but, more importantly, he needs to avoid getting Amanda's attention and leading her straight to an easy kill. He creeps closer through the greenery, makes eye contact before scooting half concealed behind a tree stump. 

And to be truthful, once he arrived, it wasn’t as bad as he expected. He blamed his aunt’s love for horror films. It was actually kind of peaceful really. When he came across a beautiful patch of forget-me-not’s on a grassy patch that caught his eye, he stopped to pull out his sketch book and crouched down in front of it. The lighting was perfect and he wanted to get this before it moved too much. 

“Hmm, don’t suppose you’d stay like this once it got dark huh? You’d be beautiful in the moonlight.” he mumbled. 

@trapped-with-nightmares

“Use the Floo Network, it’s the safest bet to get around London without being spotted on your broomstick, mate.” One of his fellow Slytherins snickered, pushing his shoulder to shove him closer to the fireplace that shone in the bright green colour of their representative house’s colours. “Ya know... just make sure to not mumble or sneeze or somethin’... one time a pal got lost -- probably found by muggles and burnt at the stake.” Certainly, that did not help Damian muster up the courage to use that damned thing. And frankly, the Floo Network was... for peasants of the wizard world. Those, who couldn’t afford more expensive transportation ---- but alas, Damian forgot a certain book to buy in Diagon Alley, cursing himself inside his head as he wouldn’t want to get into trouble with the Professors the next day, and more so, he wanted to keep his pristine reputation as the representative student of their snake’s house.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he approached the fireplace until he stood inside, frowning at his fellow classmate. “Now what.” The brunet asked impatiently, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Now...” The slightly dumb (who was he kidding, that guy was stupid as fuck!) Slytherin approached him with a pouch, handing it over to him. “...use the dust, throw it into the fire as you clearly mention your destination. This is bullet proof, Dumbian. But honestly, you love hearing yourself talk so you’re good at it. Just do the usual, you’ll be ok.” -- “Shut up, I’ve got to hurry.” The lanky teen hissed as he grabbed the pouch, pouring some of the dust into his palm. God, it was already flying everywhere, mostly into his face ---- don’t sneeze... don’t. Sneeze.

Sniffling to get rid of that feeling, once the Hogwarts student felt ready, he tossed the handful of dust into the fire and attempted to spell out “Diagon Alley!” -- though it did honestly not sound anything like it and while he sneezed at last, the green fire engulfed him and swallowed him to be transported elsewhere. “Did you understand what he was mumbling?” -- “Certainly didn’t sound like Diagon Alley, pal...”

                                                   Crash.

Landing on his ass flat as he got out of the Floo Network, realising that he was no longer in the Floo Network -- for it only stretched out over the United Kingdom, and usually he’d end up in a chimney or a fireplace -- but instead, he found himself near a weird portal in an alley way. Frankly, England was full of these, but none of which looked quite as shady as this one. “The heck...” the Brunet muttered, holding his head in pain. Just where the fuck was he? One thing was for sure ---- by the sounds of vehicles (so called ‘cars’), this was most certainly the muggle world... and that was a scary thought.

As the portal closed and he turned to look at the brick wall in shock, he felt his stomach cramp up and turn, gulping hard. He was in the muggle world, outside of the Floo Network, probably far away from Hogwarts and even farther away from home. Nervously, he grabbed his wand and mumbled a hex in order to change his attired from the flashy school uniform to something more acceptable among non-magical creatures such as humans, in- and exhaling deeply. “Merlin, help me with this one...”

And with that, he was honestly looking for the courage inside of him to explore the world before him and find his way back -- he did not want to get lost!

After hours and hours of walking around, he saw signs of street names and such, but he was honestly at a loss as to where he was. It definitely did not look like London. And neither like Germany. There were more skyscrapers, grey in grey looking buildings and run down places than he had seen anywhere before. No green scenery, not even the sky looked entirely blue, people drove on the wrong side of the car (not the right side, but people drove the left side in Germany too, so he knew both patterns) ---- all in all, it was a weird world out there. Scary. Did he feel fear? Yes! Would he admit that? Certainly not. There was too much pride running through his veins to feel the humiliation of being frightened to death.

[continued from here]

He frowns, exaggeratedly; almost a pout, condescendingly sympathizing with the man's apparent concern. He takes a step forward. Just one, slow, dramatic, stride. He waits to see if the man will take another step back. "An hour? No… Well, maybe."

“Oh! God- Wow, yeah, this is- Wow!” The man seems more amazed than frightened by Bryan’s transformation. Not happy about it, to be fair, but he doesn't react as though it’s a danger to him. More like a zoo attraction.

When the man turns to face him, the Master doesn't hesitate to make long strides to close the space between them. The two men are roughly the same height; the Master taller only because of the two inch heel on his boots. His hand is in his pocket; likely resting on a weapon.