Week 3.

[trustmods]

WEEK 3 Two more people are dead. Byakuren Hijiri has been murdered and Undyne has been executed. That brings us up to four deaths and twenty-five remaining Participants. You're doing well. Take all of Saturday to rest and sleep. You've earned it. On Sunday morning, the clock chimes the hour at seven o'clock. With no more bodies to be discovered, it seems you're safe for the time being. That said, you'll be feeling a little groggy when you wake up; it seems you've remembered something else. Or was that another really bizarre dream? Like last week, there's a new floor to explore. A reward for your efforts, of course. There's something else new, however, and as you approach the foyer you might hear the beautiful sound of... chickens? Chickens. Those are definitely chickens. It looks like Tabby's petition has worked, you have chosen chickens. Perhaps even more important are the rule changes, effective immediately. You might want to take note of them. PARTICIPANTS REMAINING: 25

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[OOC: Welcome to week three of Trustfell! Save your threads for coins and the coming week's activity check; don't forget to check in to this week's activity check and submit your memory regains as well!

The Letters and Switchboard posts are still active, for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]

Comments

[forcegalactic]

Memory gaps? [He recalls some of the others discussing this, but he didn't think that group included him. Last week, he had a nightmare, that's all, yet today felt different.]

Well, when I woke up here, I found a scar that I didn't remember. Now, this is underneath my shirt, so I didn't notice it until after we talked about injuries we don't remember gettin' and I thought I got hurt while bein' transported.

[He grips the buttons on his vest.] Thought I got cut, but accordin' to the dream I had, I got stabbed in that exact same spot some time ago, don't remember how long.

[ninehundredlives]

So they are real...

[Susan falls silent for a moment, leaning forward with her elbows resting against her knees. Thinking.]

How does he do this? Every Sunday, all at the same time - if it were just our memories coming back naturally, it'd be different for everyone, wouldn't it?

[forcegalactic]

I'm not sayin' they're real, but it might be. [He takes a deep breath, holds it in for a few seconds, and lets it all out, still clinging onto his vest.] I got on idea how to test it out.

You're a nurse, you know more about wounds than anyone else. Can you tell how old a scar is?

[ninehundredlives]

[Susan's beginning to think they're definitely real, and hearing about this sort of clinches it. But...]

Yeah. I could give you an estimate, at least.

[forcegalactic]

[He looks around the library in case anyone is watching. He's only unbuttoning the lower half of his vest and shirt for medical purposes, but he can't but fell a bit shameful.

With quick fingers, his moves his clothes aside to reveal a small scar just the right size for a large knife to have done.]

Modern medicine shoulda helped with keepin' it from bleedin', but it still needs time to look like this.

[The tissue around the wound is pale. Due to Mordecai's age, it's not healing as fast as it could, but it looks like it's been healing for a couple of years.]

[ninehundredlives]

[Susan leans in to look. Luckily it's not like she has to touch it or anything to figure this out.]

Yeah, that's old. Maybe a few years. Definitely not from being brought here.

[forcegalactic]

[Once he gets confirmations, he whisks his shirt back together, but takes his time closing it again.

Years? Then his age on the profile had to be right if that was true, but a lot can happen in a few years. Did that mean Cactoid Jim did turn evil? Is that why one of his occupations is listed as "mayor"? No, there were plenty of other candidates, he's sure.

He looks down at his hands.] How can I forget that much? Why take away that much of our memories? Did..did somethin' happen to Mars?

[ninehundredlives]

I don't know...

But I haven't lost that much - I really am forty. It must be different for everyone.

[forcegalactic]

You mean... [Chie thought she was in high school. The Inspector doesn't remember receiving injuries. This all makes sense. This all makes sense.]

No, of course. They're scientists; they can find a way to do this. They're takin' away as long as they need for us to not recognize anythin' about them.

[They must have shown up on Mars early in 3012. To remove all traces of their coming, they took Mordecai's memories since then. That had to be the reason.]

Now I have even less of a clue as to why I am here.

[ninehundredlives]

Me too...

[Though actually, she thinks she's got a better one now.]

We should try to figure out who's missing how much, if we can. There might be a pattern.

[forcegalactic]

Sounds...[His shirt is completely on now.] Sounds right. Tomorrow mornin', I'll put up somethin' in the kitchen. I'm there a lot anyway.

[ninehundredlives]

Sounds good.

...at least now you know you survived getting stabbed.

[forcegalactic]

[He opens his mouth in preparation to protests, but closes it when he thinks better. The hypercattle drive had to have happened before he became an Innkeep, and he was plenty alive for that. Besides, he couldn't be here in the first place if he was killed.]

Don't remember the recoverin' part, but if things turned out okay, they should've had time to add some healin' gel to the wound. Yeah.

...Least I survived that.

[ninehundredlives]

[Dryly:]

You can survive moooore than you think you can.

[forcegalactic]

Weeeell, I don't want to push my luck again. We don't got any supplies for stabbin's, don't we?

[ninehundredlives]

I think we could probably patch you up. But it's really NOT a proper hospital up there, so try not to get stabbed.

[forcegalactic]

Well, I did get some extra bandages and some kinda medical-lookin' stapler thing from the vendin' machine, but I reckon it's only enough for one person at most. Don't even know how to use 'em properly.

[ninehundredlives]

"Medical-looking stapler thing"?

[forcegalactic]

I dunno the best way to describe it. Here, lemme run downstairs and show it to you.

[He gets off the chair and out the library. Follow?]

[ninehundredlives]

[>Follow]

They use staples instead of stitches sometimes, after surgery.

[forcegalactic]

Yeah, that's what I was thinkin' of, but I need to ask someone who knows more about this than I do.

[He leads her to room #8 and unlocks the door. The room is clean and organized, with no dust on the desk. There's a lone bottle of not-booze standing in the darkest corner of the room. A set of cherry blossoms and a tube with a rose in it site on the nightstand.

Mordecai opens the trunk, and after a bit of rummaging, pulls out the stapler and walks out of the room.]

Here, this is it.

[ninehundredlives]

[Susan stands out in the hall, but can't help looking inside briefly; she's not seen the inside of anybody else's bedroom here. It looks about the same as her own. What she'd expected.

When Mordecai returns with the stapler, she takes it and looks it over.]

It looks like a surgical stapler alright. [She pops part of it open.] No staples in it...

[forcegalactic]

[Mordecai watches carefully as Susan inspects the stapler. It looks simple enough to understand even without the familiar bottom half of a office stapler.]

So it's useless. Of course it is, the Conductor ain't makin' any of this easy at all!

[ninehundredlives]

If we're lucky, someone might get some out of the machine.

[Or they could just...ask. But fuck the Conductor anyway.]

[forcegalactic]

If the Conductor's feelin' generous to put somethin' helpful in there, which I highly doubht.