Abducted

AN: I don't really have a plan for this thread as of yet, I just kind of want to see how this goes. I probably will come up with a basic outline after this first post, though. Anyway, let's have fun!

--

You wake up. Or try to, at least. Above your head is an oppressive light that forces you to squint. When you try to look around at your surroundings, you realize that your vision is blurry. You try to move, but you realize that your hands, feet, and head are being held down by something metallic. Not only is your vision blurred, but it seems like the rest of your senses are dulled as well: You cannot quite make out the sounds around you and your body feels numb, like it's floating on air, though you are sure you're currently on a table.

You have no idea where you are or why you're here; in fact, you don' t know much of anything. But you've got to think! You have to remember something, anything! At least try to remember your name!

Who are you?

>Gertrude from the knitting club

Your name... is Gertrude? Yes, Gertrude. You are, let's see, a 50 year-old woman from...a place whose name you can't recall. You were... try to think, driving home from somewhere in your car. The last thing you remember is that it was nighttime, but a light much like the one you're currently under lit up the sky and came closer to the car...

The more you strain to recall things, the worse a searing headache becomes, pounding in your ears, so you give up and try to focus on what's around you in the present. You turn your head as much as you possibly can under these restraints. Your vision is slightly less blurry now, and you see that you are in a blindingly white room that looks to be empty.

Except when you turn your head the other direction you realize it's not empty: There's someone else in the room with you, standing by your table! You attempt to make out who it is.

Who, or what, is in the room with you?

A pale hunchbacked man with thick glasses, a butchers apron, and far too many teeth.
The knives on their person are not very assuring.

>A blue anthropomorphic robotic dog, named Zachary, who is devoid of knowledge of its functions and capabilities.

As best as you can figure, the person in the room is human, looking like a regular man; and yet, something doesn't seem quite right about him. His skin is deathly pale, close to white, and you can't see his eyes behind his glasses with the light above reflecting off of them. He is wearing an apron, and it looks like he's hiding something behind his back.

When he looks at you, he smiles, giving you a grin that looks just a little too wide to be genuine. This man gives off a vibe that makes you even more uneasy than you already are, but he is probably the only other one in the room with you.

Should you say something to him, or should you let him speak first?

>"Wussup fuckboy, you know you're messin' with the top dog in the knitting club of America? The club that made margret in the sewing group drop to her knees and pray to whatever hocus pocus magic man up there in the heavens? I'll have you know that i stabbed 27 bitches with these knitting needles of mine, and if you try to take a chunk outta me, toots, I'll make sure to send you to the hospital in pieces that not even the best of the best sewing hands can fix, you humpty dumpty motherfucker."

You're just bluffin, you aint shit in the knitting club, but damn can you knit a nice sweater.

Right now you wonder if you even have the strength to say anything at all. And if you do, you're not sure what you should even say. You want to shout at him, demanding to know where you are and why you're here; you can almost feel the rage boiling inside of you and trying to force its way out of your throat.

But you remain silent. The man is definitely holding something behind his back, and if you were to agitate him by spewing hateful words then you're probably as good as dead. You figure that you'll let him speak first, so you take a deep breath and wait.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of him leering creepily at you, the man finally opens his mouth-or rather, finally separates his teeth:

"Ah, you're awake now!" he says cheerfully, but since your senses are still dull his voice sounds far away even though he is still standing close to you. He continues, "We're so glad you're here with us!"

Did you hear that last part right? The man looks like he's expecting you to answer, and you have no shortage of questions, but you have to ask the right ones, or else...

What should you ask the man?

>"So like, you want me to shove my knitting needles up your ass or somethin'? You do know I have to visit my grandkids, right? What do you want,and don't you play mind games with me, hun, so spit it out."

>Don't be sassy, since every evil bad guy likes to kill sassy women and instead utilize your charm to politely inquire your current location, also you are probably here for some youth surgery you took.

You figure you should be as charming and polite as possible, and maybe he'll answer all of your questions. Maybe your apprehension of him is unjustified, it could just be nerves from waking up in an unfamiliar place. If this man is exactly how you think he is, though, you'll have to get on his good side.

"Where am I?" you ask in a weak voice, "Could you tell me?" then smile back at him for good measure. For no apparent reason the man chuckles and replies,

"You were in an accident. Your car hit something on the road and you went off, but you were found just in time." His voice sounds like it's straining to have a cheerful tone, and he goes back to grinning at you after he adds, "So, Ms. Taylor, you're here now, and you were given a pain killer that's just starting to wear off."

How does he know your name? That question is easy to answer, someone must have seen your driver's license, but... You turn your head to look around the room again, which you can see just a little more clearly. This isn't any hospital that you've ever been in, and you don't think any hospital room is completely empty except for one table in the middle of it!

As if you couldn't trust the man before, now you're certain he's lying to you. Right now he's fiddling with the thing behind his back in between his hands; you've got to think of something to say back at him. You want to confront him about what he's saying, but what should you say?

What time is it? I was supposed to pick up my sister at the airport at 11

"No," you say, "that can't be right. This isn't the hospital I know. And you're no doctor." That might have not been the best way to respond, but you felt you had to call out his bluff. Suddenly the man cackles, the sound of which makes your skin crawl by how animalistic it sounds,

"Well then!" he laughs, "I guess the pain killer is wearing off faster than we expected!" Was he waiting for you to call him out the whole time? Was this a test to see how mentally aware you were? Before you can ask him anything, the man stops laughing as soon as he started, and frowns.

He readjusts his glasses and says solemnly, "Well, Gertrude, I'm afraid you're coming around a little too soon."

"What?"

"Because we're not done with you just yet," he finishes. He pulls out the thing he had behind his back, revealing it to be...

A syringe filled with tranquilizers.

>A...worn out shawl? Is that Spanish halabanza wool? Oh my god.

...a syringe. He comes closer to you and you start to scream,

"What are you doing?! Get away from me! NO!" But the man doesn't listen to you, and his now stone-faced expression doesn't change. You try moving your whole body in an attempt to break free, but it's no use-the restraints are bolted down and the table isn't even moving.

Even as the man leans over your body you're still trying to move away, and tears are now rolling down your face.

"I do wish you would quiet down," the man says, still in that falsely cheerful tone, "but soon you'll understand." He clenches your left arm with enough force to get it to stop moving, and he sticks the syringe into it. Within seconds, it seems, you lose the energy to fight the restraints, and all of your senses become blurred once more. The last thing you see before it all goes dark is the man walking away from you and out of a door.

---

You wake up once more. As you begin to come to your senses again, you realize you are still on the table, and you are filled with dread about where you might be now. Immediately it becomes clear that unlike the last place this room looks almost completely dark. You wait for your eyes to adjust to the darkness in total silence.

Eventually, you begin to make out shapes in your new environment. The room looks like...

A robotics laboratory.

A dark shop of wool, string, and various nick nacks.

The room looks like a bedroom. Against the wall on the right is a bed, and across from that is a hole in the ground that you figure must be the toilet; and then, it hits you: This isn't a bedroom, it's more like a prison cell. There are no windows or any other source of light, and besides the bed, the toilet, and the table you're on, it's completely empty.

You look at your body and see that you aren't wearing the clothes you wore back in the other room, and instead you are wearing all white besides your shoes.

And it's when you look to the front that you finally catch sight of something else in the room, and the shock of seeing it makes you scream. A robot stands by the door; it is human-sized, a steel-gray color, and a light begins to shine in its eyes,

"The subject is awake," it says flatly, unfazed by your scream, "The subject is to be removed of it's bonds upon awakening." The robot takes a long step forward. You cringe at the sight of it, but don't say a word-after all, you'd much rather be freed from the table than remain trapped. The robot produces a key from its hand and unlocks the restraints on your body.

With some effort you're able to sit up on the table, which gives you a massive headache that feels like someone is stabbing your temples. You turn your head and stare at the humanoid robot with apprehension.

Now that you're free, what should you do now?

Without taking your eyes off the robot, you slowly get off the table to stand on the floor. As soon as you put your feet down you feel your head spinning, but after a few seconds it goes away. The robot speaks again:
"After the subject is removed of it's bonds, it is to lay down in the resting chamber until further instruction." It takes you a few seconds to realize that the robot was referring to the bed.

You want to ask the robot some questions, but to be frank, he scares the hell out of you. He hasn't taken his glowing eyes off of you this entire time, most likely watching to make sure you don't try to escape or something like that.

But now that you're standing face to face with the robot, you see that he's about your height, and very skinny, too. You entertain the thought of using your weight to push it to the ground, look for any keys, and get out of this cell. Except even you aren't that stupid; the robot is probably stronger than he appears. And what would happen to you if you DO get out? You can't decide...

Should you follow the robot's instructions and go to bed, ask the robot for any information, or should you fight the robot and see how well that turns out?

Ask about its purpose and functions.

"Do you mind if I ask you some questions first?" you ask the machine in the most pleasant tone you can muster. The robot takes a few seconds to respond, processing what you've said,

"Inside my databanks is a list of Frequently Asked Questions asked by many subjects," it intones, "But subjects are not supposed to ask questions for approximately 24 Earth hours after they awaken in their cell." Frustrated, you disregard his answer and ask him a different question:

"So, what are you in here for?" The robot again takes a few seconds to respond, still in that monotone voice,

"Could Subject 77 please reiterate? That question did not compute." You figure that the robot doesn't really understand common phrases that humans use-but he called you Subject 77. As you ponder the possibilities of what that could mean, your anxiety returns in full force.

Before you can ask anything more, the robot, taking back his last statement, says to you, "10 seconds ago I said to Subject 77 that it was not to ask any more questions!" Now his voice is slightly raised, "G-Models such as I are to reprimand Subjects who do not listen to instructions. YOU HAVE 20 SECONDS TO COMPLY."

Suddenly, the robot's eyes turn yellow, and he raises his spindly hands in your direction; you take a few steps back and he takes a step forward.

NOW you might have screwed yourself over this time. The robot means business: What do you do now?

Follow the robot's instructions! You don't want to die.

"YOU HAVE 15 SECONDS TO COMPLY." the robot, or G-Model, or whatever, states. As ashamed as you are to admit it, you might as well follow his instructions. Looking at those clawed hands of his gives you a reminder of your powerlessness in this hellhole.

"OKAY!" you scream at it. "You win! I'm going to go to bed, alright?" You leap into your bed to get away from the robot. You bury your body underneath the covers, leaving a bit of space open for you to look at your guard-his eyes go from yellow back to white, and he puts his arms down,

"Subject 77 is thanked for it's cooperation," he says to you in the monotone voice again. Without turning his back on you, the robot steps back into his original position and stands there, motionlessly, never taking his eyes off you.

Damn that robot! You wish you had the tenacity to tell him to stop referring to you in the 3rd person, and to stop calling you an 'it,' but you can't. There are still many things that are blank in your mind, but you don't think you've ever had much courage.

And what's going to happen to you the next day? The thought of it makes you feel nauseous. You turn your body so you don't have to look at that robot for now, shutting your eyes because you'd rather be in total darkness than looking around at your prison. You know for a fact that you're not gonna get any sleep, at least, not for several hours.

But there's no good in keeping on feeling sick. You've got to think of something, anything, that will calm you down.

Sing "always look on the bright side of life" from monty python