Play@YSDC

The alarm screeches a radio song in the background, flashing red numerals in the darkness of his bedroom, a darkness caused by the thick curtains hanging shut on his bedroom window. The numerals are saying its 7:00AM. The advertisement for "Hidden Places" sits on his dresser. He's written the details of the appointment on the clipping and as he awakens, bleary-eyed, he can't remember the details.

OOC: Go through your morning routine. Appointments at nine.

He gets up and turns on the light. He staggers to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, takes a shower and washes his hair. He goes to his closet and looks at his clothes. "How formal do I want to be," He thinks, "I don't wanna wear a tux, I'll go with just a nice button up white shirt, tie, dress shoes, and some black slacks." He gets dressed, checks the time, and picks up the ad and reads it and his notes.

As he pulls on his socks, and before he can pick up the advertisement, his home mobile phone rings out in the lounge room. The glowing red numerals say that it is now 7:54.

OOC: Please give a description of your home - no matter how brief - is it an apartment or a flat? Or a hotel room? Are you on the ground floor, basement level, near the roof top? Also, who does your character think might call him at this hour?

He goes and answers the phone. "Hello?"

OCC: Charles lives in a middle class hotel with a bedroom, bathroom, and Living room with TV, microwave, and mini-frige. It's on the 4th out of 10 floors in the complex. As for calling, his dad probably would, since he's concerned about his son's dry spell of work since Charles sold his house and moved into a hotel.

There is a crackling noise over the telephone and beneath it all is a masculine voice he can hardly hear (i). It seems like someone's trying to call him on an old mobile phone from an area with very bad reception.

He checks his phone's caller ID, hoping that the problem is on the other end and his two year old phone is okay.

The number registered seems to be his own mobile phone number. Perhaps the fault does lie with his own mobile phone. It (i) shouldn't be making that kind of noise, anyway. The static seems to clear, or perhaps his ears (i) simply get used to the sound enough to start focusing on the voices.

A male voice: "...a package for Room 408. Why did it get delivered here?"
A female voice: "I don't know. Open it! I want to see what's inside."
A male voice: "But it isn't ours to open."
A female voice: "Well, they should have delivered it correctly. No one would figure out we took it."

Through it all, a little boy sings "Happy birthday to you" in a familiar voice that (i) reminded him of his own voice when he was a little boy. He remembered hearing himself sing a familiar tune while watching old home videos.

He (i) can't quite recognize the man and woman talking, though they are obviously talking about his room, and he's not sure what device his mobile phone must be tapping into, although that is mostly because what tales he has had of accidentally picking up the wrong frequency, was to do with radios. So either his mobile phone was (i)somehow picking up on a radio frequency, like a baby monitor - which was impossible, or they had dialed his number by mistake and it was somehow registering as his own because his phone had a fault. OOC: Though feel free to make your own guesses if you can come up with ideas.

Still, those two people were talking about a package that had been meant to be delivered to his room. They were obviously unsure about sending it to the right room.

He puts the phone on speaker, sets it on his bed and puts on his shoes. "Of course something is gonna go wrong today," He mumbles to himself. He listens, hoping to get a hint to where that snoop and her jellyfish of a partner are.

A female voice: "It's quite large and heavy, wouldn't you say? I wonder what could be inside."
A male voice: "We really shouldn't check."
A female voice: "Oh come on, he's right next door. We can say we didn't realize it was for us and then hand it straight back. He won't even know what we did with it."

The little boy's voice dies down from his song.

A female voice: "Or we could just keep it."
A male voice: "The hotel staff might remember which room they mis-delivered it to."

"Gotcha," He thinks. He rushes out of his apartment with his phone and knocks loudly on the door to the left of his.

The door opens and an old lady blinks at him. "Hello?" she croaks, sounding ill. She smells like sickness and pee. Behind her he can see a room filled with photo frames. The pictures within them are those black & white pictures that seem to have come with the frames.

"Nice one, Charles," He thinks to himself. He tries to look overly surprised, and says, 'Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I thought this was my friend's room." He takes a step back, hoping not to get drawn in to the time devouring trap that was an old lady's home.

She nods and closes the door, seeming confused, leaving him to stare at the pale wood of the doors that stick out against the grey-and-green sickly wallpaper of the corridor walls. As he steps back on the mud brown carpet and looks around he notes that there's another door on the right side of his room and a further door in front of it. 410 and 407 were both options for whoever had taken his package.

He goes to room 407, hoping to have better luck. He knocks quickly on the door, getting rather annoyed that this little adventure is getting in the way of getting prepared to what will keep him from moving back in with his parents. He puts the phone to his ear, trying to know the latest actions of the would-be thief.

Over the phone:
Male voice: "Shit! Perhaps they figured out they delivered it to the wrong apartment."
Female voice: "Who cares? We'll just say we didn't know!"

He can hear their footsteps approaching over the phone. The sound of a door knob turning, the door opening. Yet the door in front of him stays shut.

Another male voice: "Is this Room 407?"

He reaches out and tries to touch the door, wondering why this had to happen today."Ya, I believe so," He says.

OOC:Is the voice still coming from the phone or the door?

OOC: All of the voices are coming in over the phone.

The door is quite solid. It seems to give a little under his fingers - as though the last person to enter this room didn't shut the door properly.

The New Male Voice: "Thank you."
Female Voice (confused): "Hey, what are you doing? Get out of our room."
There's a sharp sound. Then a woman's voice cries out.
Male Voice (panicked): "What the hell are...?"
The New Male Voice: "I wouldn't talk much more if I were you, sir."

He (i) can hear nothing coming from inside of the hotel room or the corridor though he can't be certain there is no sound coming from inside. Still, the volume on the mobile phone of their voices would indicate that if he were near them, he should be hearing something from outside the phone - particularly as the door is a quarter inch open.

Knowing already what he was going to do, he thinks to him self, "Ah hell, here we go.' He slowly open the door and says, "Room service, anyone get a miss-sent package?"

The hotel room is empty. The coffee table sits on its side (he can hear the sound of a heavy thud of something heavy knocking against flesh), the television set lays face down on the carpet (a crash follows suit)...

Man's voice (hurt, panicked): "What are you doing? Help! Help!"
Another Man's voice: "Looking for something..."

...dried blood is splattered across the cream-colored couch...

Man's voice (agony): "Ohmigod, ow, ow, ow, hel..." <gasping sounds, pants>"

...with drag marks across the cream-colored carpet as though someone were pulling themselves behind the couch and toward the phone...

Strange Man's voice: "No." <sound of something being yanked loose>

...that hangs from the receiver...

Man's voice (panting): "Don't hu ... her."
Woman's voice (sobbing): "Please, please, don't..."

...thick smears of blood on the dining table near the little kitchenette. Smears of blood and other stains...

Strange Man's voice: "I can take the time." <sound of cloth ripping>
Woman's voice (sobbing): "No, don't!"
Strange Man's voice: "Needs more lube." <sounds of cutting, screams follow>

...a child's whimpering. He (i) can hear it coming from the bedroom. The sound isn't coming over the phone. It's coming from the place he's standing in.

"Police, freeze," He yells as he runs into the room with the TV, looking for a weapon and the people he keeps hearing.

There's an art deco lamp sitting on a small cabinet nearby. The main room is empty. There is no one behind the couch or in the kitchenette. He (i) can't hear whimpering coming from the bedroom. Perhaps he had startled the person into silence.

He picks up the lamp and unplugs it, holding it like a bat. "Come out now or we'll shoot!"

The sounds of a woman sobbing and a man grunting continue to come over the mobile phone. He can also hear dragging sounds, panting and faint cursing also through the phone. Yet in the bedroom he can hear a child's whimpering, (i) so low he can barely hear it, but it seems to be only coming from the bedroom - not the phone he holds in his free hand.

He barges into the bedroom, trying to get the drop on the intruder.

He (i) can't hear anything anything (i) nor can he see anyone. The bedroom is large and styled identically to his own with a queen-sized, dressing table, wardrobe and bedside cabinets. There is a photograph on the bedside cabinet depicting a happy couple with a little boy.

He feels unnerved by the phone call, and looks through the apartment for his package. He sets the lamp down and says,"Hello," into the phone. "If it was just the phone, then how did I answer him," He thinks, "maybe just a TV show from satellite, ya, that's probably it."

He opens up the wardrobe doors and sees nothing but several sets of clothing hanging on clothes hangers. A tingle down the back of his spine causes him to glance around and, he sees a wrapped package sitting there near the bed and he sees a child's hand dart out of sight under the bed. Is someone hiding in there?

No one answers him over the mobile phone. He can merely hear gurgling cries for help, a woman's continued screaming in agony, and the sounds of a man's grunts and groans.

"I see where this is going," He thinks to himself as he picks up and examines the package, careful not to turn his back to the bed or doors.

OOC:Any chance this package has a loaded sawed-off shotgun in it?

OOC: Edited the above to fix the mistakes. Oh, and would you want a shotgun you found in what appears to be a crime scene?

Charles goes to the gap between bed and wall, facing the door to the loungeroom and the bed itself and starts turning around the package. As soon as he touches it, the phone call abruptly stops as though someone on the other hand has hung up. The package is heavy but not inflexible - it may be stuffed with foam but what's inside it sure isn't exactly the size of the box. The lettering on the label is blurred - as though either aged or the ink has run with water awhile ago. Likely the latter. It is held closed with thick sticky tape.

He takes a peek under the bed and puts the box in front of him as a makeshift shield.

There is only lint beneath the bed. No stains, no child, nothing. Yet no one has left the room. But Charles Hubert certainly remembers seeing the child's hand withdraw from where the box was left sitting.

"Listen, I don't have time for this, if anyone is here really, now's the time to make yourself known," He says, trying to convince himself nothing is here more than trying to help some girl.

OOC: Depends on what happens before I leave.

There's no further movement or noises from inside the flat. Taking a quick look over the bed, he sees that the former mess he had seen on the kitchen table and carpet is gone. There are a few stains remaining on the carpet, however. (i) Come to think of it, he doesn't recall anyone having rented this room since he had lived here. Perhaps it's an old crime scene? Either way, unless Charles Hubert's a man to believe in ghosts, it probably seems most likely that someone's trying to play a complicated trick on him. Does anyone else know that he's about to apply for a job at a show that examines the superstitious world? (i) He's not sure how anyone could tamper with his phone to make it display his own phone number, but it might be possible.

"Oh well, maybe this box will have something that will make this trip worth it," He says. He checks his phone for the time.

.

He remembers the advertisement on his bedside cabinet that will give him the appointment time and place. He's pretty sure he's meant to be there by nine, however. He will need a sharp implement to open the package - he will probably find one in his room.

He carefully makes sure no one is outside, and runs back to his room.

The corridor is empty. The lounge room he leaves behind seems in much better state than before, though the pall of death hangs over it. Other than stains on the carpet and a missing television set (and now lamp), it was almost as though nothing had ever happened here.

He enters his room and hastily cuts the tape with a steak knife. He opens the box up, hoping to get a pleasant surprise for a change.

Inside is a modern lightweight digital video cameras - similar to many of the hand-held cameras he knew were used in documentary production. This one looked much more expensive than most.
It came with a set of batteries, power cables and film.

He tries to see if there's anything on the DVD.

He plays back the footage recorded by the hand-held camera. It starts with...


...he blinks twice as it finishes. He feels a little nauseas, like something in his breakfast wasn't agreeing with him. He also feel a little light-headed and dizzy. He noticed the hairs on the back of his arms were standing up and his skin was covered with goose pimples. Maybe he was coming down with something. Then he realises that he can't remember anything he saw on the footage. It's not as though the time disappeared, he remembers watching something, and he knows it took a while. He simply has no recollection as to the imagery or sounds he had experienced while viewing it.

The clock on the wall says it's 7:52.

He puts the DVD in a sandwich bag familiarizes himself with the camera for a bit. After that he decides he needs to get on the road, thinking all this time in his room isn't healthy. He goes to the parking lot outside and gets in his beat up gray little car.

The parking lot across the road is one of those empty lot turned parking lot places. He gets into the car after unlocking the gate, drives through the gate, locks it again, and then drives off. As he approaches the borough, Mitte, he can glimpse the Fernsehturm television tower is visible even from this range, unsurprising considering it's the fourth tallest freestanding structure in Europe. He turns left on the highway and enters the suburb of Alexanderplatz, within Mitte, near which the Ophidian Building stands, overlooking the large urban square. The whole area is undergoing massive redevelopment and cranes stand tall against the horizon.
Passing the Ophidian building at 8:31, he looks for a place to park and finds a Public Car Park building down a nearby side street. After finding a park inside, he pulls over and takes out the newspaper article he had remembered to bring with him (as the address is written upon it).

Prop 2 Accessed.

He goes to park his car in the park. As he walks to the building, he tries to relax. "You're just to stressed," He thinks to himself, "You're gonna nail the interview, then, you're back in the big leagues!"

He crossed the road with ease at the lights and went through the sliding doors. The foyer was brightly lit with large windows and a ceiling two floors high. There are fountains and raised garden beds among the tiled gray floors of the wide open foyer. The light blue desk bearing Ophidian's logo was staffed with two receptionists. An elevator bank stands ready to take him to the floors above. Entering this place, this very mundane place, puts his prior experience in stark relief but he shakes it off with ease and continues on.

8:34.

He goes up to one of the receptionists and asks, "Hello, Mr.Carter told me to come today for an interview. Can you tell me where I may find him?

The receptionist gives him an airy smile. "Yes. He is on the 14th floor. Just right across from the 5th elevator in the bank, down a short corridor, is his reception room."

He follows her directions, trying to keep his cool.

The elevator doors take their time in opening. A few other people get on, pressing buttons other than that for the 14th floor. It's only while standing there that he realizes he is still carrying that camera he had meant to leave in the car.

"I think you and me are gonna get along swell," he thinks, looking at his camera. He realizes he's obviously not completely okay from earlier, but he hopes he can hold his composure long enough.

The elevator doors open and he can see down a corridor directly the reception room and on the far wall of that, a window with red curtains besides a heavy steel door. As he approaches, he finds the reception room itself has a very inviting, modern red-topped desk with a light blue base, that is the very peak or organization: an expensive computer, a printer, a rollodex, a telephone and a small stack of books. The sleek black seat behind the desk is swiveling slightly as though it had been recently bothered. The row of chairs on the wall facing the desk are comfortable, deep blue and of ergonomic design. The walls are a light blue. The thick carpet is a blue-and-black diamond pattern. There are some comforting oceanic paintings on the walls.

There is no one at the reception desk.

When he sees the chair moving, he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Trying to stay calm, he looks for a doorbell or the equivalent somewhere.

A quick look around the room and he not only finds nothing but is sure there is nothing to find within easy view. The desk might be a better place to search though he could tell there was nothing on the desk top that might do it. There is an intercom and a telephone on the table, however. His film camera makes a brief whirring sound.

He takes a look at his camera, looking through it to make sure the lens didn't mess up.

Through the lens of the camera, the room appears somewhat different. There is a bloody hand print staining the intercom and blood on the floor by his feet. Not a large amount but enough to make a difference to whomever bled there. There were also thick drips and drops of blood leading out towards the elevator. All of the blood appears to be very old stains - which is odd, because blood shouldn't stain plastic - which the intercom is made from. The paintings contain phrases like: Work, Eat, Sleep! and Effort Defines Reward and Fear Not the Deadline, Live By It and Strive For Meaning. The video camera also reveals speakers implanted in the corners that burble sounds that make him feel edgy, nervous, as though he should be doing something, striving towards something.

SAN loss: 0/1.

Sanity roll made.

Charles doesn't like what he is seeing, but he continues to look through the camera, walking behind the desk.

He seesnothing new.

He finds himself angry at the paintings and the odd noise. "What kind of twisted psycho has this stuff," He thinks to himself, "Maybe I'll find out later." With that he pushes the intercom button, keeping his camera up as it seems to show him new things, and says, "Hello, anybody here?"

Moving the camera from his face, he is no longer aware of the odd sounds and a glance about reveals there are no speakers mounted to the walls. Things look and sound so different when peering through that camera.

The intercom buzzes back. "Hello, Daniel Carter speaking. Who is this?"

"This is Charles Hubert, I'm here for an interview."

"Ah, you're early," says Daniel. "We might as well get started now, then. I'll buzz you in." There is a buzzing sound, and the inner office door is unlocked.

He walks back to his car, looking through his camera to see if other rooms he goes through look like the reception room he looked in earlier.

The blood stain on the reception room becomes a series of splatter marks into the elevator that appear to have dropped from some height, at least a few feet up. It pools on the elevator floor in two small pools with splatter marks on the floor approaching the elevator buttons, as though the motion of reaching had scattered the blood, and the dried blood on the outsides of the button for the 14th floor that has been largely wiped away over time. Judging by the blood stains, it seems whoever was bleeding came out of the elevator and then collapsed by the desk in Carter's reception room. It was all theory as Hubert had no training but he was pretty sure he had it right.

The rest of the building seems to be largely normal, other than the frequent hidden messages in posters and the odd sounds coming from speakers that are only in existence when he views them through his camera. People look at him oddly as he walks out viewing things through his video camera. The glass doors open wide as he exits.

It's still early and the streets are thronging with vehicles. He might pick up some more strange things if he keeps wandering about. Otherwise, there's always his hotel room.

He thinks that he'd rather not stay in that apartment all day. He decides that he'll have a drive around, and begins making his way to the car.

Peering through the video camera, he sees nothing much of interest as he makes his way to his car. Getting inside and paying the little money required to get his car out of the parking lot, he goes to head out into the city. There's posters on the interior walls crying out about theatre plays, new movies, and a new exhibit at the Pergammon Museum on Museum Island. Other than that, there's a number of cafes, shopping malls and the like to keep him occupied.

OOC: There are no wrong answers here. Wherever you go, fun things will happen.

He decides that he could get something to eat, and heads for the nearest diner.

Finding parking would be atrocious this far into Mitte, and there's a diner just two streets away that he had drove past on the way here. The diner had seemed to be pretty crowded but that was also a good sign, suggesting that they cooked good food, and he thought he remembered hearing a recommendation attached to the name ... or a similar one. He could walk there or take his car out for a trip to a diner somewhere else.

He would rather find a less populated place so that he could relax a bit easier.

He knows a place that is a bit further out but it would do in the meantime. He gives the order to the taxi and sits back, peering out at the scenery that passes him by. The camera itself appears to still have a Full Battery and plenty of space left on the small videotape.

He looks around the Taxi with the camera.

OOC:I thought I was driving? If so, Hubert just drives to the restaurant

OOC: Sorry, everyone else has been using taxis with abandonment.
He drives his way to another parking lot. Swollen clouds blow in from the East, filling the sky within minutes. A sudden torrent of rain spills down from heavy clouds. He puts on the windscreen wipers and continues. The car radio starts up, playing the song 'Sway', at a loud volume. Rain slants down with such thickness he has to lean over the steering wheel to see the world around him as he heads to the cafe. He can see the parking lot, just barely, to the right of him. It just requires crossing two lanes of traffic in this heavy rain. Or he could seek out another one further down the road.

He decides to try and cross the street to the parking lot.

He waits at the median strip briefly, listening to both the song and the comforting hum of the windshield wipers as they brush the rain off the window. A man with a brightly coloured umbrella crosses the mouth of the parking lot and you watch as his expensive-looking leather shoes splash through the water that pools in the slight depression in the concrete. Once the man is out of the way, and you calculate that you've got a good 15 seconds before the next car would reach where you are, you make your turn. A flash of lights and squeeling tyres alerts you to a dark red van rushing out of the car park at full speed just behind the man. You catch a glimpse of the driver's reflective sunglasses as the van screeches towards you.

Make a Drive roll to get out of the way in time.