From all sides come sounds, you are not alone. Breathing and gurgling noises point to the presence of other people. A squeaking, whining sound makes you think of a spinning wheel while other metallic noises awaken memories of vehicle engines cooling down. Your nostrils are assailed by a mixture of the pungent odour of gasoline and a sweet cloying smell of freshly turned earth. Yet overriding this combination is another stronger, intangible scent whose sweetness instantly sets your heart pounding like a drum struck by some mad musician to an irregular beat – Fear you mind groggily identifies the smell as that of fear!
Your vision, though hampered by darkness and the presence of blood from your forehead wound, attempts to identify the things around you. The familiar shape of a steering wheel, dashboard and dark impenetrable windshield to your front would suggest you are seated in the driving seat of a vehicle of some sort, the feeling of size would suggest a van. To your right the shadowy form of a female (Mr. Handy) slumps, supported by a seat belt. A series of wracking breaths give you reason to think her alive, if unconscious.
Twisting your head, an action which causes your forehead to burn with the pain of activity, you make out the shapes of another four persons, each showing signs of having been subjected to a sudden force, as if thrown forward by some kind of impact. Behind them you can just make out a collection of technical gear, TV screens, recording equipment etc. Stuff that feels familiar, but you have no idea why.
OOC: At the moment only innsmouth’s character has awoken so only he is able to take action. |