Sigh.

"I hate this thing."

"What, you only just met it, give it a chance. And don't let it smell your fear."

"I'm not afraid of it, but can you imagine it with a cold? Eugh."

Snerk. "Fair."

Someone has recently scratched "GOOD LUCK" under the "ARMORY" label on the door. On the other hand, the locks are unlocked and there are no worrisome noises.

Minion #2 pushes the door open hesitantly, looking around for potential health hazards.

An irritated voice from inside says, “HEY! Knock first. But you can come in this time.”

"Who knocks to get in an armory...?"

Enter two minions, stage left.

Minion #1 (don't call him that) mutters back, “Sometimes it isn't entirely under control. Boss doesn't always remember to put all the features on the instruction sheet.”

The room definitely contains a lot of … features. After one's eyes adjust to the chaos it's fairly obvious that some of the stuff is locked up to keep people's hands off it and some is locked up to keep it off people's hands (and faces and mucous membranes).

Irritated Person is mostly no longer irritated now. “What do you need?”

“Collect two specimens, don't get caught doing it, if you happen to know anything about Snuffleupagus here that'd be useful too.” #1 looks over at #2, then waves a hand in front of them to get their attention from the racks and tubs and cabinets of gadgets and organisms and ambiguities.

#2 looks a little...overwhelmed.

“That—back there—is that a tentacle?”

“Never bring a gun to a tentacle fight!” is the immediate reply from Armory Staffperson, who has obviously been waiting to use that line. “Unless there isn't any collateral damage to be had. Now, what's your experience? Pistols, rifles, big sticks, folding chairs…”

"Um...pistols, crowbars, lead pipe...normal things."

"Okay." Rummage. Not much rummage, considering the quantity of stuff in the room.

Pistol, except with an extra barrel. "Tranquilizer option, here's the switch. Good for not attracting attention but it doesn't always work. Touch the grip here" — poke with gadget — "and now it will work for you as well as the rest of us."

Truncheon, again with extra bits and a weirdly textured surface. "Same stuff, but on contact, so you can poke, hit, or block and get the effect. It won't sting you so you can grip it anywhere."

Sack, with a variety of straps attached.

Minion #1 gets a sack and a pistol and a rifle-esque overcomplicated thing slung on his back. Then it's over to the attached range to get Minion #2 checked out on the new gear and then time to get going.

This is so weird.

#2 touches the surface of the truncheon warily.

"So...we're looking for animals, right?"

"Classifying them is the boss's problem, but if you expect this one to hold still because it's green you'll probably be disappointed.”

"You know, I really thought this would be more academic."

He peers over at the noses.

"Clean up a few labs, get some hands-on experience, turn over a new leaf..."

“Well, you're about to have an opportunity for some field observations. Write 'em up and you might get a chance at some more scientific work. And if you survive to take another job, say you were shanghaied.”

Garage! White van!

Well, white vans at least are familiar. Climbing in now.

"How dangerous are these things?"

#2 gets to drive while #1 gets shotgun weird-ass-rifle and animal-handler/navigator duty.

"They're all over the scale from 'angry pillow' to 'ancient civilizations will write songs about this fight if they weren't dead'. If it's bad enough, and you can usually tell, we go back and get help. If it's worse than that, well, it's going to get noticed and we play Innocent Bystander Running Away Very Fast.”

...#2 stops to load his pistol at the next long red light.

"Just remember, tranqs first. Specimen less damaged, less noise.”

The friendly abomination lying on the floor of the van might be displaying a little more interest, or maybe it's just bored.

He nods.

“I just want to be prepared. For Cthulu bullshit.”

He starts heading for the park, as instructed.

“Cthulhu. Luckily, you're not on the diplomatic team.”

Yep, that's definitely a dog(?) with a scent.

“Huh. Seems a bit soon. Maybe it moved.” #1 pulls out his phone and checks feeds. “Not so's anyone saw it.”

“Oh, ‘scuse me, Yog Sothoth.”

He turns the corner. They’re heading into the park, now.

Sniff sniff snuffle!

“Guess we’re close, then.”

He parks the Suspicious Van and steps out.

The van is really a lot less suspicious than what they're carrying.

#1 settles his gear and orders Nosy ahead and #2 to keeping an eye out to the side.

Shhhh sniff snorf sneak sneak stalk.

...It’s really kind of unnerving to be sneaking through the park at night with a mutant dog. He’s a little twitchy.

This random guy smoking in the park seems fine, though.

Sneak sneak sneak in a wide detour.

Nosey doesn’t seem to want to take a wide detour. Nosey is very eager to move towards the mystery man.

“...thing must be behind him, right?”

“Never assume. Wait. Not too long. In this situation if they don't move we trank 'em and investigate rather than hanging around too much.”

Meanwhile, a complication climbs out of the tree Random Guy happens to be under.

"–whoa. Hi."

He almost drops...whatever he's smoking. It doesn't have an immediately recognizable scent.

“Hi! Don't mind me, I'm just here to make your life more surreal.” he says, stepping upwind.

"Cool. This is exactly what I want it to be like at all times."

He takes a drag off whatever he's holding. When he blows it out...it's hard to tell, but is that cloud purple?

"Special reason you're climbing trees at night?"

“Getting in touch with nature. Because it's there. Don't knock it 'till you've tried it.

“Did I hit all the clichés?”

“Got ‘em in one.”

He leans back against the tree.

“Wanna try seeing an extra color? ‘S cool if it’s not your thing.”

“Maybe after backups for brains have been invented. And validated.”

He laughs.

"More mystery plants for me."

Another drag, another cloud of weird smoke.

Sniffer is getting a little agitated.

"...Should we just tranq them?"

“We do this by the book. Conveniently, the book agrees with you on timing.”

He unslings his riflething and starts checking it. “I'm going to try to hit both of them in sequence. If I miss, then you help. If that doesn't work, we run. No bullets unless we get cornered. Got that?”

He nods and readies the tranquilizer pistol.

“Are you actually smoking—” thwup.

—that’s a dart.

“Uh—” 

Thwip.

Oh. Good night.

Thump.

"...That was fast."

Time to approach the poor innocent bystanders. Nosey seems very enthusiastic about this.

Now they can actually search the area in detail.

“Looks like we already caught what we're looking for.” Out comes the sack.

...Minion #2 looks a bit ill.

"Oh, no."

Glare. Shove flop stuff.

He grabs his own sack and moves forward to shove the actual bystander into it, mumbling something about course credits.

To the van! Awkward silence on the drive back to the lab!

He wakes up completely disoriented and much less high.

"Mm...?"

He tries to sit up–

–and just...can't. He's restrained so thoroughly he can't move at all.

Okay. Sitting up, not happening.

He is thoroughly bound and tied down to a metal table in a small room with metallic-looking walls and no visible door. There are occasional noises of activity from outside, and faint peculiar odors. There's a fading pain in his thigh, like someone did it a small but deep injury a few minutes ago.

He can't turn his head, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Tree Guy similarly restrained on another table.

This is...all kinds of really bad.

"Uh. Are you awake."

He tries to speak quietly enough that he won't be heard outside the room, but loudly enough that his unfortunate companion will hear. It's kind of a battle.

Apparently not.

Aw, fuck. This is not how he wanted his Thursday to end.

These restraints are...pretty inescapable, huh?

They appear to have been designed to hold down your average superhero.

Double fuck.

He'll just...wait for something to happen, then.

Will the walls and the ceiling detaching from each other and moving down and up, respectively, do?

Yes, that will definitely fucking do, narration.

"Uh? Hi? Somebody there? Why are you doing this?"

Somebody there sighs slightly.

The walls descend into the floor of a much larger room. Revealed is — well, none of it is immediately recognizable, but for someone who follows supercrime it's pretty obviously some type of mad scientist's lab. Racks of equipment, monitors, whiteboards, stains from old explosions, —

— preservation cylinders, sample handler robot, autoclave, surgical instruments —

— let's make that a mad biologist. Probably that guy over there in the labcoat, who just handed Obviously A Minion a gag.

Nope! Abort! Abort! This is not nearly as hot as he always imagined it would be!

(Although...it still is. He really has very little self-preservation instinct.)

"Uh– I'm guessing you have plans other than negotiating with the kidnapped guy but if I could have a second to just–"

Gag! Robotic arms descending from the ceiling and pointing their business ends at him!

The business ends are not pointy. In fact, they are probably some kind of scanner judging by the pattern they're moving in. Though he feels a little funny in the middle, or is that just his imagination?

Oh, okay. Time for muffled yelling, then. And struggling, although he’s strapped down too tightly for any actual movement.

The weird robot arms only seem to be giving him a spine tingle, though. Yay...?

Labcoat guy studies the monitors, then enters a command.

These ones have scalpels!

They would like to cut and/or stab him all over his body, to varying depths. Oh wait, this one is amputating his little finger, too.

Oh fuck.

He feels the knives go in, and then –

sawing, through his finger–

Uh. This noise is...probably screaming...?

No one here is judging his hobbies, only how fast he regrows his finger and closes wounds.

The most shallow wounds close almost immediately. The deeper ones take a little more time, but it's less than a minute from the removal of the blades to the closing of the cut.

The base of the finger has sealed off, and it's already starting to regrow.

"Mmgph."

Indifferent scientist wheels over a piece of equipment vaguely reminiscent of the scanners but a bit too large to be tucked away in the ceiling and aims it more or less at the less-abused side of his body.

This one's really weird-feeling. Also, slice poke chop.

Everything starts feeling...

slow. Muddled.     Hazy.

    The pain echoes into his awareness    and doesn't stop, quite so quickly as it has been, usually.

   The cuts struggle to seal themselves, and blood pours out from the stump of his finger.

The haziness starts increasing, until he cannot feel anything else, even the pa—wait no here are some feelings that aren't exactly a pain in any identifiable part of his body but are sharp or hard or chaotic.

     what?

           What's going o        n

  this isn't right.

For a while, absolutely nothing outside his own thoughts exists.

...

no 

      no

  no

               no

    LET HIM OUT

he doesn't want to be trapped in here with himself

Here's something. It's like being under anesthetic and sleep paralysis and having everything amputated all at once but it is — something again.

Over minutes, it grows into more feelings of having a body but still one that is unmoving and unseeing.

That's...better. Not great, but better.

He steals sensation back when he can take it. Trying to move...doesn't work. It's like dreaming about getting out of bed – the feeling's almost there, but not grounded in reality.

Eventually: pain all over, in a now-familiar pattern for the third time, and

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

And sight of the movable walls closed again, and body straining against its restraints.

Alive! Alive and pain! What a glorious fucking thing to be–

except

what the fuck??

That is not him moving and that is sure as hell not his internal monologue.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAwhat?AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

It's disturbingly easy to disconnect from the pain enough to form coherent words. He's not sure if he likes this.

i didn't hear random screaming voices last time i was conscious!

[Further screaming elided for readability. —Ed.]

… Same to you. …

who are you??

… hi, voice in my head. I'm Jonathan. …

(The pain is receding somewhat, as the finger regrows.)

...aren’t you the voice in my head...?

He tries to move a finger.

He tries again.

Absolutely nothing happens.

...shit.

… since you seem to be more put together …

… whether or not you exist …

… any advice on the situation? …

uh...

i don’t know what’s going on either.

it seems like they’re doing the same thing with...you...they did with me. and...seems like you’re healing up. like me.

i didn’t know anybody else had it.

oh is that what

Finger wiggle eyes down barely get a look at it.

new to me too

wait...

are you guy who climbs down out of trees?

yeah

how'm I doing at the surreal thing har har

i think we’re both doing pretty fucking well at surreal right now.

...i’m z.

Jonathan. (Strand, go on his thoughts in a less intentionally-pronounced way.)

yeah, you said while you were...screaming.

Oh. Right.

What happened from your perspective? Who's they?

uh...i woke up strapped down. same as you. we’re in a big bio lab. a guy gagged me – another guy in a lab coat was there, i think he might’ve been in charge. robot arm scanned me or something and then cut me up like it did you.

then they pointed this – thing – at me, and i couldn’t heal right, and then there was just...nothing. until i woke up in here.

…right. Assuming we're not doomed —

The thought is interrupted by the feeling of the entire room descending like an elevator.

— uh, any suggestions on what I should be doing given an opportunity?

i mean...running like hell is always a good option.

Fair enough.

The enclosure stops probably-descending. One wall drops, revealing a normal-sized door with a corridor bending to the right.

Time to wait for something to happen, because they sure as hell can't do anything strapped down like this.

Oh look, it's the return of the ceiling-mounted robot arms! This one would like to spray them with gray slime.

The good news is, it seems to be dissolving the restraints. The bad news is, slime.

gross.

Indeed, but he can move now. He proceeds cautiously and ickily.

The direction they point me isn't the time for running like hell, I figure.

yeah, probably not. wonder where they’re sending you.

Around the corner is an open door to a small room with a bed, bathroom fixtures, and a door.

Shower!!!

So what if there are probably cameras and there is definitely only one door that doesn't lock and has a window. None of that is worth putting up with this gunk and soggy-paper-esque restraint leftovers.

shower?

(There’s some internal conflict about what level of watching is acceptable. Can he even stop watching? He has no idea.)

He pauses in reaching for the shower controls.

Is this going to be too weird for you?

...hey, worry about you, not me. i’m not gonna complain.

I'm not gonna let all this get to me any more than it has to.

And anyway the first part is to just to turn the shower on and hose down clothes and all (after checking and finding that his pockets have been entirely emptied). Then remove items of clothing and rinse, wring, toss aside; soap and rub down body (they seem to have provided no washcloths, scrubbers, or even towels, just a hot-air dryer).

— don't think about someone's watching, just get the job done. Don't — argh, must you?

Done. Turn off water. Dry off self and clothes adequately, put on clothes, be soggy for a while.

Somehow, the first emotion that manages to get through their gradually strengthening connection is a vague sense of smugness.

Additional embarrassment, irritation, and the actual bodily sensation of flushing.

He instinctively goes to cover his eyes–

...oh. Right. Can't do that right now.

...then he goes back to what he just felt.

okay. i'm getting feelings from you now, i guess. zero privacy in here, huh?

Caaaaalm down. Caaaaalm down. It can't be helped. For now. But does he have to be smug about it?

–whoof, okay, more emotional feedback than he was prepared for. And...more thoughts.

okay, okay. sorry.

(It makes it a little harder not to panic.)

Argh. Sorry. You didn't exactly sign up for this either.

It's hard to describe exactly what comes through – not nervous laughter, or even the sound of it, but the suggestion of it.

pretty normal not to like somebody eyeing you up in the shower.

I would like to consider myself adaptable to circumstances.

He faces an imaginary mirror (the actual room lacking any such amenity outside of the glass in the door) and flexes.

–oops, cracking up now.

So — we'll work it out as we need to, yeah?

yeah. guess we will.

He walks soggily around the room and checks for anything interesting or removable; nope. The shower is not particularly disassemblable and the bed is more like a flat couch.

they labrat-proofed this place pretty good.

The door abruptly shuts itself. There are muffled clattering noises from past it. It opens again.

He startles and then tries to see what might be going on through the tiny window without getting close to the door. There isn't — okay with the door open, it is obvious that the corridor now turns right instead of left.

Might be showtime? (as if they know what they're doing)

or something.

He studies the scene.

i’m guessing if we try to stick around here they’re gonna give us an incentive to move.

Yeah that there is some internal screaming being stomped on.

Don't see any advantage in trying, right now, either.

What's around the bend?

A large room with a door immediately across from where they are entering and no other features in the walls. The ceiling is no higher than the corridor, which in context is oppressively low. The industrial carpet floor is patterned in large black and white curlicues — no, that's a maze.

there's gotta be a catch here.

What, you mean besides the door not going anywhere we want to be?

Snort.

try just walking out there. see what happens.

(Nonverbal agreement.)

He steps forward onto a white carpet square. Nothing happens. He taps toes gingerly to an adjacent black square.

The door at the far end announces its locking with the loud and visible slam of multiple oversized deadbolts into the frame.

It stays locked until he steps back onto the non-mazed carpet.

okay. not surprising, or anything, but kind of obnoxious.

guess we're following the right wall?

It's not that big and we can see the entire maze from here, or do we want to pretend stupid?

His eyes roam around the maze.

oh. yeah, now that you mention it. let’s just go, i guess.

He starts out. The carpet tiles are small enough that this will take some minutes to accomplish without misstepping even if he's got the right path.

— actually what if he just jumps from white tile to nearby white tile? Oh. Slam. Oh well.

seems like it’s tracking whether you follow the whole path.

...or they’re just watching us to make sure we don’t cheat.

Step. Step. Step.

Just yell at me if this ends up, like, conditioning to do whatever ridiculous-now-eventually-macabre task is in front of me, okay?

no gruesome science tasks for jonathan. noted.

Step. Step. Step.

(Perhaps he has reason to be concerned about that; this state of mind is just focusing on the necessary path and the feelings of walking. When it isn't internal screaming.)

Huh.

you can really focus.

better than the alternative. What are you occupying yourself with?

noticing. i couldn’t focus this hard on following a white line if you had a gun to my head.

also kind of wondering what, uh, actually happened. and if they’ve got my body somewhere. and if i’m still in it, technically. and how they hooked me up to your brain. and...

Who knows what they've come up with.

Maybe you've been Displaced In A New Dimension and you're all actually right here glued to me like a four-dimensional conjoined twin. — and neither of us can feel that for reasons this ridiculous theory doesn't explain.

Pfft.

maybe they stuck half my brain in your head. maybe ghosts are real.

Well, what're you haunting me for then?

They're getting close to the end of the maze.

ghost staples?

Ooh, door.

—staples?

The impression of a shrug.

how else are you gonna attach a ghost to somebody? glue? uh, rope, i guess?

Chains made from broken promises and forged in the fires of regret.

He pulls on the unlocked (hooray!) door's handle.

The door opens and reveals — a bigger and weirder room. It's divided in half by a moat, there's a genuine wooden drawbridge on the other side, the far wall is covered in a coarse rope net, and that's just what's immediately visible.

you know i stop listening at "chains", right–

Oh. Wow.

...room.

—can't say I did know that, actually.

He steps in, cautiously.

The wall around the door is covered like the far one. There's a steel I-beam hung from the ceiling with more rope, perpendicular to the moat. The moat has actual water in it, but not at a level high enough to just swim across.

...although, is it “stop listening” or “start listening way more closely”...?

He pays close attention as Jonathan looks around.

i guess we’re supposed to cross.

(Sigh.)

He walks around the room. There is no obvious means of lowering the drawbridge — it's just standing up on hinges on the other side. The I-beam could perhaps be used to cross if one is enough of a gymnast to jump off the wall onto hanging from it by one's hands.

ooh, fun.

He sizes up the jump you would have to make. Lot of potential for this to go wrong, given where the end of the beam is...

do you think we can make that?

Sorry, too busy cringing at the hypotheticals.

...huh. That reaction definitely wasn’t from him. He pauses in the middle of a lovingly rendered ankle twist.

okay we may have to do something like that but, uh—

you’d prefer to not do the painful injuries thing, huh.

He seems to find this incredibly unsettling.

I apologize for being a boring normal person at you.

He steps cautiously closer to the moat to inspect it.

it’s weird to get actual confirmation that most people don’t just start fucking themselves up as soon as they regenerate.

If we get out of this intact I'll probably go revisit my list of extreme sports.

The moat could be taken for a weirdly designed swimming pool, except for the water being too low and not having any of the usual plumbing and facilities — oh wait, there are steps set into the near wall so it's possible to climb back out. (Not one on the far side, of course.) There's also a niche or possibly corridor entirely underwater at the left end of the moat.

...hey, can you open your eyes underwater?

Yeah. And here I was hoping to be dry eventually…

He removes unsuitable clothes and climbs down cautiously. The water looks and smells innocuous (though also unchlorinated).

From below the surface, the niche can be seen to be an underwater tunnel; it unhelpfully makes a left turn shortly past that end of the moat.

Without missing a beat-

can we fit in there?

Probably, but.

Surface, breathe, dive, swim into tunnel — looks like it's a completely underwater maze. Feelings of air-supply-related nope. Return to surface.

what’s with these people and mazes?

He tries to think through how they would get through that — but, no, if they get turned around and get lost...bad outcome. (This one, he doesn’t dwell on.)

— what, you haven't tried drowning?

i’d definitely need a spotter or something to try drowning. i don’t wanna get stuck at the bottom of a lake forever or something.

Yyyyyyyeah.

He heads for the ladder.

so, we can try the jump, we can try drowning...anything else in here?

You got any superpowers you forgot to mention?

He heads for the rope-bearing walls and starts to climb.

As they climb — his heart wants to start racing, but he doesn’t have his own heart anymore, so there’s just a building, twitching excitement in the back of Jonathan’s mind.

far as i know it’s just the healing thing. but, like, how would i know, really?

Don't get too excited, I'm just looking around.

The net is rope knotted with itself and fastened to the wall every so often by passing through metal loops. The I-beam is attached to the ceiling with chains welded on and otherwise isn't particularly interesting on top.

i like high places anyway.

He contemplates the netting. If they had something sharp, that’d be helpful.

—the top ends of the net are attached with knots.

Untying a rope other than the one supporting his weight requires getting sort of nestled sideways and using just one hand to work on the knot, but is doable.

ha!

The idea that this is a solution they didn’t plan for fills him with joy.

...he also passively appreciates occupying the body of somebody attractive being very physically competent.

okay, we’re getting somewhere...

He contemplates the beam.

if we get a whole rope loose we could knot up one end and try to toss it over.

Workin' on it. Going to give the bridge a try first, though.

The knots within the net make each rope take a zigzag diagonal path, so he's working down and sideways, but freeing plenty of rope.

sounds like a plan.

He’ll just enjoy the journey.

The journey ends on the floor. They now have twice the height of the room in rope, which is really rather a lot of rope.

He spreads out the rope and starts tying some new knots. The thoughts that leak are of choices of knots and eyeballed geometry and the feeling of throwing things.

He just watches. His own geometry leaks, when it's appropriate.

Okay so this part is a mess of a weight on the end and that part following it is a net to try to catch on the corner of the bridge.

Throw. Miss.

Throw. Hit and slip off.

That’s pretty good ropecraft. Watching this now.

Okay this does not work let's try another strategy. Untie the mess, should have been neater about it, make a loop with three (more well-structured) rope lumps spaced around it.

Fling-splat.

The multiple weights cause the loop to tend to fly open, making a much more coherent projectile. It's still new, though.

Fling-catch!

He resists the temptation to give it a yank and instead walks back carefully, adding tension and eventually — yep, pulling the bridge down, crash.

wooo!

Nope, still can’t fistpump. Accidentally tried anyway. Whatever.

Jonathan's mode of expression is more in his stance than gestures, but there's some celebration there.

Then caution; is this assemblage of scrap wood and panels of some-synthetic-or-other actually sound and not trap-laden? Toe-poke. Okay. Gather up the rope. Across bridge and onward, still keeping eyes out.

He can’t quite be a second pair of eyes, but he could potentially notice things that Jonathan doesn’t, so he’ll be watching too. Not that he really has a choice, but hey.

Nothing inanimate or otherwise waylays them before they reach the windowless, bland exit door. He opens it, revealing —

A hallway leading up to the bottom of a climbing wall.

The handholds on this thing are very sparse. It looks like it’ll be difficult to scale, although most of it can’t be seen from here.

He steps forward, though still keeping an eye out for surprises. They probably haven't been so kind as to provide any gear, or something to toss this rope over, have they?

There does appear to be a safety harness...that's been pulled up and is sitting at the top of the climbing wall. It's...definitely a high wall.

It's barely possible to see that, though, because as the wall gets higher it starts to curve back towards the entrance.

The opposite wall has a tangle of exposed pipes sticking out higher up, some of which might support a rope. Then again, it might not.

It'd be interesting to loop the rope he's got over the safety harness, as a presumably more appropriate anchorage than the pipe of less-known characteristics, but that doesn't seem at all likely to work.

You rated for falls?

i've broken a loooot of bones. we're gonna be fine.

(Nope, still not enthused about the idea.)

He rearranges the rope to have one slightly-weighted free end and attempts to toss it up over the highest reachable piece of the mess of pipe.

It's not hard to get it over the pipe.

The pipes snake up the wall all the way to the top: it seems like it'd be easier to climb them than the actual wall.

Okay, sure, but are they suitable for climbing, or safety, at all.

He ties together the ends of the rope into a loop, sits in it, and bounces on it a bit. Any alarming wobbles or creaks? Not that that's the whole story.

There's a very slight wobble, but overall it seems pretty structurally sound!

Right. This wall is obviously meant for climbing, but it's tough at the top. Pipes aren't exactly rated for climbing but they were obviously put here on purpose. Any thoughts on what the puzzle is?

...it kind of looks impossible at the top. the wall, i mean. unless you're the plastic man or something.

maybe there's something weird about the pipes once you're on them?

I can't say I've tried, but climbs like that are possible, and the pipes are, like, this is not the type of thing you trust your weight to. But on the other hand we've got the rope which is not a required item.

He unknots the rope and ties one end around the other line, then gently pulls on the other end so that it's securely tied around a pipe. The other end gets to be tied into several loops that can be slid on the rope going up.

Not really the right rope for the job, but…

He starts climbing. The loops slip down a bit when he puts weight on them each time, but there is overall upward progress.

i guess i wouldn't know. i've gone up a lot more pipes than climbing walls.

And if you haven't had one turn out to not be nearly as rigid or attached to the wall it's sticking out of as it looked, that was luck.

He reaches the bottom of the mess of pipes and transfers his weight to some horizontal pipes instead of the rope.

i definitely have. i told you. lots of broken bones.

The pipe is uncomfortably warm under his hands.

Well, there's the catch.

He unties the rope loops awkwardly (one hand being occupied with hanging on) then tosses the end up again, aiming for the uppermost suitable pipe. Misses, keeps trying.

...is that pipe getting hotter, or is it just them?

Keep throwing. Hm is there a different pipe that is less toasty yes there is oh wait that one heats up too. Great.

He gets the rope through and hurries to getting it tied off.

what science are they even trying to do here?

Theories cinch yank tug can wait!

He skips the fancy loops and starts ascending just on the pipes, with the rope partly wrapped around his body to keep hold of it.

The further he climbs, the faster the pipes heat up.

And the faster they heat up, the stronger the urge to grab on and not let go.

It’s clearly not happening on purpose. He’s trying to keep it down, but it’s there.

That's — a little bit useful, to counter the flinch reaction.

He keeps climbing.

It seems like the vertical pipes heat a little slower than the horizontal ones. This starts to matter, at this speed: it would be easy to stay on one long enough to burn yourself.

Hurry. Keep rope snugly hung onto in case of slips.

It goes smoothly for a while.

Then, near the top, one of the pipes is immediately hot enough to burn.

Aaaaa.

He jerks back and his other hand isn't really holding on well enough. He slips, still wrapped in the rope, then manages to grab the rope with one lightly burned and one now lightly rope-burned hand. He dangles from the rope over empty space with feet loosely hooked on the pipes.

The urge to hold onto the pipe, the joy at the intensity of the sensation, is almost overpowering for a moment.

That doesn’t last long, though,

...shit. you ok?

The rope burn barely lasts 5 seconds, and the burn is fading quickly.

No!!!!!!!

He swings his feet to hook onto a lower possible foothold and bring his upper body closer to the wall again.

Wow it’s hard not to let all this panic leak through.

okay. it’s gonna be fine, you’re not really getting hurt...can’t get your shirt off this high up, or anything, we might just have to go for it...

His hands are now fine, aren't they.

There's plenty of adrenaline and determination here. He gets his feet under him and his hands above him and now he is heading up in a hurry regardless of what the pipes care to do.

Appreciate this

for me okay?

Well, if he insists.

(Not all of the feeling transfers, but what does is...somewhere between taking a heavy backpack off and finally eating when you’re hungry and cracking your back and really incredible sex, and yet almost nothing like any of them. Except maybe the last one.)

There's plenty of sweating and moving going on here. And tears.

He reaches the top and barely scrambles over the inconveniently pipe-free ledge, and collapses on the pleasingly flat floor.

He comes back to himself shortly.

...okay. done with that. no more fucked-up pipe climbing.

The pain of the burns begins to recede as they heal.

ow.

Still flopped, he turns his (their?) head to see what might be beyond the immediate nice flat safe floor.

More nice safe flat floor!

And then a pit.

And then more floor!

And then a pit.

This pattern continues.

yaaaaaaay.

i guess that’s...better?

He pries himself off the ground and goes to take a closer look.

I hope we get a lunch break sometime. Or, you know, whichever meal it actually is.

food sounds pretty great—

The pit doesn’t look too wide to jump over, but it’s very deep, and there’s no discernable mechanism to break one’s fall — there are eyehooks sticking out of the walls that might have held a net at some point, but those seem to have been removed. There is a ladder on the close side, though.

There’s a hole in the wall near the edge of this one.

Anything visible at the bottom? And of course, let's check out that other hole in addition to the large holes called pits.

The very bottom, upon closer inspection, is blocked off with bars.

The other hole seems to curve off into the wall. It would be about big enough for a baby to crawl into.

Well, time to climb down and take a closer look.

It’s tricky to balance on the bars at the bottom of the pit, but possible.

It’s hard to tell but it appears that below the “floors” of the pits, there’s a tunnel running forward. Shame the bars are too close together to fit a grown human.

Well, that looks pretty impassable so far. Unless you also have shapeshifting you didn't mention, or optional strength to bend iron bars?

i do remember being able to bend my bones once but i’m pretty sure i was hallucinating.

He takes a close look for any secret passages, then climbs up again, examining and poking every feature in the room.

Nothing else is particularly interesting. It's a very bland hallway aside from the pits.

Looks like it's the long jump or nothing.

He sits down against the wall and tries to actually rest for a minute, this time not in the immediate aftermath of gratuitously painful climbing.

do you have people who are gonna be looking for you?

Yeah, but I didn't exactly post that I was planning on visiting a mad scientist's lair.

Pff.

yeah, but

that means there's a search going on for one of us, at least. that's good.

Will be, not yet, unless I've been out for multiple days.

He gets up and starts studying the jump and getting himself set to do it. Reluctantly.

yeah, guess so.

His mind unconsciously provides some helpful suggestions for angle of approach, but they’re clearly calculated for a different body.

Annnnd jump! Land just barely past the edge, tumble splat ow!

Groan. And we have to do that again.

Is that crashing and yelling in the distance?

It's got his attention. He gets up, and stands still and listens.

It is! It is crashing and yelling in the distance!

...good or bad for us, do you think?

Dunno yet.

He turns, and moves to one side wall and then the other, to try to tell where it might be coming from.

It seems to be pretty much perpendicular to the hall of obnoxiously wide pits.

Also the floor is occasionally shaking, accompanied by groaning metal noises.

Hmm. Sit down to not fall over? Climb down into the nearest pit? No obvious good actions at the moment.

The noises of mayhem continue. There's some screaming, some alarms, some small explosions—

Big explosion noise. Everything lurches. Jonathan falls down. Some wall panels and the bottom of one of the pits fall away.

oh fuck

grab the ladder

Wordless uncertainty and hurry.

He crawls over to the pit that — is now bottomless, or at least floorless — and climbs down and tangles his arms and legs in the ladder.

It's not clear this is better, but oh well!

The missing floor reveals debris, fire, escaped experiments, and a slightly exploded grid of LairStruct™ robotic beams that used to be properly supporting the floor and walls.

Speaking of which, the wall this ladder is attached to isn't feeling all that stable.

shiiiiit

climb or get ready to fall

Down does not look particularly pleasant; he's climbing. Sheesh, first I gotta go down, now—

And there goes the wall, and the ladder, and all.

Yep they are definitely free-falling onto pointy things.

splutch

He wakes up in agony.

oh. fuck    

          fuck.

     what

What’s happening? Where is he? What is making it so fucking hard to concentrate on anything but the searing throbbing pain in his—chest?

Perhaps it is the LairStruct™ I-beam that is supporting his body weight by way of having gone entirely through his ribcage.

That. would make sense.

(fuck fuck fuck fuck not a good time, boner)

He twitches, chokes, tries to look around, not yet quite remembering that this body isn’t his own.

It seems to be his for the moment. He successfully looks around.

Memory of their situation comes back to him.

(fuck fuck fuck)

...that’s. okay, weird, not sure what’s going on—

(fuck)

What’s he looking at, here?

The beam he is impaled on has apparently since fallen over horizontally. If he can scoot himself back off the bloody end (over some unfortunately pointy smashed-up robotics attached to the beam) he can drop onto a — pile of burnt plants? — on the debris-strewn concrete floor.

There's a lot of more-or-less dead vines here, having been in the process of climbing all over the beams and associated equipment. It doesn't really look like that was an intentional experiment.

Some small monstrous animals and particularly-mobile-plants are loose and running about or poking at the debris or fighting each other. Farther from the immediate vicinity, the interior structures are less wrecked and there are even lights on. There are distant sounds of continuing commotion.

...okay. Monsters. Escaped experiments, probably. That’s...fine, they can deal with that, once he...

...drags their body off the beam that impaled them, by himself.

The beam which is covered in what are now essentially spikes.

Sorry in advance, Jonathan. Wherever you are.

He grabs hold of the beam in front of them and begins to drag their body forward, inch by torturous inch.

...he’s probably making some kind of noise, he can’t quite tell...

...the crushed machinery drags through the wound, tears up their insides every time he moves...

...(they’re definitely going to need another shower)...

...he makes it off the end and they plummet to the ground.

The mess of vines makes a fairly good cushion, for something not at all designed for the purpose and being dropped on from a couple stories up.

Oof.

He takes a minute to catch his breath, watching the hole in their chest start to close.

Once it doesn’t look like they’re going to hemmorhage their remaining blood or spill any organs in the attempt, he tries to get to his feet.

A vine or something feels tangled in the hole in his back.

...oh.

This place just doesn’t let up, does it?

He reaches behind him, sees if he can feel out what it is.

It's a crispy dead vine.

—the part that is now kind of stuck into the healing edge of the hole is less crispy. It doesn't seem to be writhing about trying to eat him or anything, though.

...what happens if he starts trying to pull it out?

It seems pretty attached to his flesh, but it is unclear whether that is extra creepy biology or he just healed-or-scabbed around it.

...rip it out, don’t rip it out. Rip it out, don’t rip it out. (He loves me, he loves me not...)

He tries to turn around enough to see where it’s coming from.

It is not a particularly distinguished part of the mess of vines he fell into. It can't(?) be alive because it has some thoroughly burnt parts before it becomes untraceably tangled into the pile.

Rip it out, don’t rip it out. Rip it out, don’t rip it out.

Rip it out.

He wraps both hands as tightly around it as he can and pulls, hard.

This feels like someone is trying to rip some of his insides out and pulls on the skin and —

the vine breaks.

Uh.

Uh.

He feels his back to try to find the remaining length of vine.

There's maybe four inches left to be felt.

Just checking – does trying to tug on this feel like he's trying to pull out all his organs through a hole the size of a golf ball?

It does not feel particularly attached to his organs as opposed to his skin and muscle and bone. Also, just grabbing the vine itself hurts a bit, if he can notice that beside the rest of the hole in his/Jonathan's back.

...

He squeezes the vine hard.

Yup that was definitely some sensation. Now the vine is crushed, too, but it doesn't really hurt worse, it's just — there, and less of it there now.

Can he

move it?

Nnnnnnnn....

...nope.

how'm i gonna explain this to j

oops sorry you're full of plants now

fuck me

He stumbles off the pile of vines. Now that he's not in such incredible amounts of pain, it's easier to notice that they're really fucking hungry, and it's making him a little dizzy.

As he steps onto the bare concrete some of the miscellaneous mobile life-forms flee or watch or approach. Maybe he would like to fight, kill, and eat this sixteen-legged dog?

That's, uh

that's way more tempting than it should be, what the fuck.

How unfriendly does this dog look, on a scale from one to horrible murderous centipede creature?

It seems pretty mellow as centipede monsters go; at least, it is neither leaping for his throat nor running away from being looked at. But it is still watching him.

...maybe it’s a friendly doggipede.

He intentionally avoids looking it in the eye, and holds out his hand.

It freezes when he puts his hand out. Doesn't seem entirely sure what to make of it at first, but then approaches, sinuously navigating around the rubble.

He stays still, averting his eyes and keeping his hand out. Worst that happens is he takes a while to regrow it, he guesses.

Sniff sniff sniff hand! Sniff sniff sniff pants! Sniff sniff sniff blood! Rear up lean sniff sniff sniff mostly healed hole in chest!

Time to stay very, very still.

It drops its — front half — back on the ground and starts unconcernedly investigating the rubble.

...well, okay, then.

He looks around to see if he can find a sharp bit of metal or something in the rubble that's suitable for use as a weapon. You never know when you're going to need to stab something.

There is a lot of drywall and carpet and concrete and I-beams and metallic whatnot around. Most of it is not usefully long or too large to qualify as a two-handed weapon. He could try to free the length of electrical conduit over there, or investigate a broken LairStruct™ robot module, or climb up on some rubble and get a wider view…

Let's investigate the broken robot. Why not. That stuff sure felt pointy enough when it was dragging through his body cavity–okay let's not think about that too hard we're trying to survive here.

Sticking out halfway up a pile of used-to-be-walls-and-floor is, yes, a beam with attached robotics much like the one he de-impaled himself from. It has got lots of motors and gears and linkages and broken frame bits. Maybe he could free this slightly bent shaft with attached gears and use it as a mildly pointy club? If he can figure out how to disassemble or pry apart the casing with no tools?

Maybe if he didn't feel like he was about to actually pass out.

If he climbs up on some rubble can he see any food? Or anything that might lead to food?

In the distance there are less wrecked rooms in enough variety that it is plausible there could be a cafeteria or vending machine or something.

There are still various examples of plant or animal matter, some of which seems to be neither mobile nor wrecked by fire and explosion, around.

Next pile over there's some eye-catching red. Is that a fire extinguisher or something?

He's pretty starved, but he's pretty sure he's not starved enough yet to eat random dead mutant things raw off the floor.

He'll head for the rooms, but he'll check...whatever the red thing is, first. Fire extinguisher would be better than nothing as a heavy, swingable object.

On his way down the immediate pile something green and spiky lashes out and grabs his ankle.

Stomping instinct – activated!

His foot meets only rubble. The green thing was hiding in a more sideways direction under a different piece of rubble.

It pulls itself out from cover by way of yanking on his ankle, and reaches out to entangle more of his leg. It seems to be -- a very animate rosebush.

He really can’t tell whether the universe is being nice to him or mean to Jonathan.

He stumbles when it grabs at him, and tries to yank his leg free from its grasp, doing his best to ignore the thorns scraping at their skin.

Moving his leg just pulls it along and it's climbing up — or rather wrapping up more of — his leg and reaching for the rest of him. Thornily.

His eyes dart around, looking for anything he could use to de-bush himself without too much personal bodily harm. As fun as this would be, he's already dizzy with hunger and he doesn't actually know what happens if he passes out from repeated regenerations.

He could maybe try using a chunk of ex-flooring and to squash the main body of the bush —

Turns out the nearest thing is now dog. The black centipedal canine apparently decided it likes him or at least is interested in an alliance, as it has snuck up and is now attempting to rip and chew apart the rose stems, heedless of the thorns.

–wait no time to get excited yet.

He tries to grab for a chunk of concrete to knock onto the plant while it's engaged with the dog.

Chunks of concrete can be found, but at this point the plant is less a separate target and more a cat's-cradle around the dog's front four legs and his leg. Is he going to keep his balance from all the tugging and also fish around on the floor?

Well, he would do that, but instead he is going to fall over. Awesome.

This does not do any good for the parts of his leg which have got thorny mutant rose vines wrapped around them.

The dog seems to be doing a fine job of reducing the rest of the plant to limp shreds.

Fucking ow.

Okay, he'll just grab the things with his hands and try to pull them off, then. Why the hell not.

This works fine, except that there's — some sort of feeling going along with the holes poked in his hands. That isn't pain. And it's in his leg too. Doesn't seem to be like they want to burrow into him or anything, though; they easily come out and drop off like dead — or live — plants ought to.

The rest of the plant is now done for.

This is the second instance of concerning tingly plant shit that's happened to him today. That is at least one too many.

He pulls himself unsteadily to his feet (fuck he's hungry) and glances over at his new hexadecipedal friend.

"...thanks for that."

His new hexadecipedal friend looks at him and walks closer but is mostly watching the area around them for new threats.

He's going to finish checking out the mysterious red object before anything else.

On the way they encounter an ambulatory Brussels sprout stalk being attacked by an oversized over-limbed starfish. The combatants are too busy with each other to care.

The red does turn out to be a fire extinguisher! There is also a safety-neon-green corner of a box peeking out of a mess of drywall.

This place is so fucking weird.

He pulls out the fire extinguisher carefully, and then goes for the box.

Removing debris from the box reveals that it is a fairly large and heavy cabinet designed to be hung on a wall; luckily, it landed face-up. Big black lettering announces that it is LIFEFORM CONTROL. (The painting of the first word looks a little bit sloppy.)

...intriguing.

He makes sure the whole thing is clear of debris, and then opens it cautiously, just in case it contains LIFEFORMs.

It is neither deceptively labeled nor infiltrated by plants!

It contains weird guns, heavy gloves, canisters and vials of various sizes, and less immediately classifiable items.

Hmm.

He wonders if J knows how to gun. He sure doesn't.

Are there any bags in here he can swipe to fill with dubiously useful stuff?

There are bags and nets intended for containing LIFEFORMS, but there is also a bundle of straps that turns out to be a harness for attaching other equipment of one's choice to one's body.

The equipment has labels, but they are fairly esoteric, if not cryptic. Perhaps this code means these varieties of ammo goes with this gun? That only helps if he knows he wants to shoot things with a CRYOGEN or maybe a HUDSON INHIBITOR, though.

Here's a baton. It has interchangeable accessories to stick on the end of the stick, but it looks fine for just plain hitting things with too.

Ok, harness it is. Not like he’s never worn one of these before.

He grabs the baton (always good to have a hittin’ stick) and one of the smaller weird guns, and starts picking up baton accessories and ammo at random. He feels like Jonathan would know how to gun better than him, somehow, but he’ll try his best.

Jonathan continues to be unavailable for comment, and he is not interrupted by monsters whether by chance or by beware of dog.

The accessories and ammo have individual little belt-or-shoulder-strap pouches. Soon he can be carrying more ammo than you find in the room just before the boss fight and looking like the box art had "EXTRA BLOOD!" touted. Does he really feel up to carrying all that indiscriminately selected weight?

(Sadly, there is no gear to help doggy carry some supplies. if there were, he could probably clean out the cabinet with a one-animal pack train.)

He's still about to keel over from hunger, and ammunition is, by and large, heavy. This is maybe not an ideal amount of stuff to carry.

He offloads most of the ammo and looks over the accessories. Anything that looks familiar? Or pointy?