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typeandkey · 06-01-2016, 12:40 AM

Quote:>Do that again, this time at point blank.

The two of you sit there, splayed out on the floor, staring awkwardly at each other. The light bulbs the other-you has in place of eyes flicker a few times as if he were blinking in complete consternation. So much is his confusion that he's apparently forgotten that he intends to maul you. Odd, you didn't think an abomination from the hellscapes of your deepest nightmares was capable of being so utterly flabbergasted.
Your pathetic display with your completely fake and not-real-at-all toy pistol seems to have caused some good to shift in your favor. The other-you seems to be mentally frozen, trying to process what nonsense just took place, providing you with precious moments to think and act. A lesser man would take this opportunity to struggle free and make a run for it; not you, though. You have a different idea, you're committed. Reloading the “pistol” and firing it again at close range strikes you as the thing to do. You're not sure exactly how an obvious children's toy could hurt anyone, though. Yes, you did have that vision earlier where the fake pistol managed to puncture your skull, but you just assumed that was the result of your overly active and overly morbid imagination. Still, anything's worth trying once. Or twice.
Unfortunately the pistol did not come with any instructions, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out. You quickly try and push the pole back into the gun's barrel, but it doesn't budge. The moment you make your first move, the other-you snaps out of his befuddled trance and continues his efforts to climb out of the trap door and pull you closer. You scramble to quicken your pace of trial and error to try and figure out how to reset the flag in the fake gun. You try twisting the pole inwards in case it screws in, but to no avail. The magazine pops out partway, but pushing it back in doesn't seem to do anything. The gun's slide moves, but nothing happens. Little by little, inch by inch, the other-you pulls you in. His electrified breathing sparks and sizzles as he drags you closer. Finally, when you try pulling back the hammer you find that it twists instead. You quickly turn the pistol's hammer like the wind-up key of a music box, the flag retreats back into the gun.
Now that the gun is “reloaded”, you twist around and lean forward to get the gun as close to the other-you's head as possible. Your sudden movement and shift in weight causes the other-you to lose his balance. Before you can pull the trigger, he loses his perch and slips back through the trap door. Unfortunately, since he is holding you by the ankle, you get dragged down as well.
The two of you fall back through the trapdoor into the room you started in. You land at an angle, hitting the actual door part of the open trapdoor while the other-you falls through the opening. The back of your head hits the brass doorknob causing you to see stars. Oh look, there's Orion, your least favorite constellation. The jar to your head loosens your grip on the deadly not-gun and it falls out of your hand, sliding across the floor.

1 pistol removed from inventory.

The other-you slips through the opening while still grasping your ankle, causing you to tumble in after him, again. Thankfully, you hit the floor face down this time on the opposite side away from any doorknobs. The other-you manages to grab hold of the trapdoor's frame embedded into the floor to pull himself up. Though his screechings were difficult to read before, you can almost swear that his electrified snarls sound slightly more angry now. He still has you by the ankle.

Quote:>Should we perhaps punch him back through the trapdoor? Just don't let him break your leg again.

Again? No, no; that didn't happen. As has been explained previously, you're positive that was just your mind going into the dark places again. The other-you obviously couldn't have broken your leg, nor has he killed you. If he had, you wouldn't be here right now, right? Right. However, that may not be the case if you don't do something about your current situation soon.
Your first line of defense, a gun that isn't actually a gun, is currently out of your reach. The other-you is struggling to pull himself up; he'd probably have an easier time if he let go of you and waited until after he finished climbing to attack. You're certainly not going to point that out to him, however. You try pulling away only to be viciously yanked back by your ankle. You're starting to get tired of this. A creeping thought in the back of your mind politely suggests punching this thing as an alternative to shooting it. You decide to roll over, your ankle twists around in the other-you's grip. Now lying on your back you lift your head to look at your assailant. Eugh, it's like he's getting uglier every time you look at him.

You: “Back off!”

You display your martial abilities by punching him with your foot. Your heel connects with his chest pushing him back and causing him to slam into the trapdoor's rim. Strangely enough, instead of the soft thud you'd expect when you hit someone in the chest, your foot connects with something hard and flat. Almost like the other-you has some kind of thin metal box stashed just under his shirt. For some reason, his eye-bulbs go out as the Christmas lights he has for teeth flash wildly and change color formation. His buzzed growling is momentarily overpowered by a dull but loud beeping sound as his eyes flicker back on. His hand slides off your ankle as he tumbles into the room below. You hear him hit the floor below you with a loud thud. Then another thud when he slips through that trapdoor and hits the floor below that one. Then another. And another. And so on. With any luck he'll keep falling forever. If not, you can always show him the might of your fist-kick style.

Quote:>Wield the mallet and the pistol and go to town on the monster-you.

As satisfying as the adrenaline rush from foot-to-chest combat is, you'd feel better if you were well armed, in case you run into that other-you again. You quickly glance around the room for your faux pistol. It's nowhere to be found. It must still be in the room above you, where this whole mess started. Hmm, these portal doors have no consistency. You blame the poor craftsmanship. That's another reason to arm yourself, if these truly are portal doors, then the other-you is eventually going to run into you again when he falls from above. It would behoove you to be prepared so you can do the honorable thing and finish him off while he's injured, weak, and vulnerable.
If you want to reequip your fake, toy pistol, you're going to have to climb up and get it. You jump up and grab hold of the trap door above and proceed to pull yourself up. This time you don't see someone doing the same in the room above you, nor do you hear someone climbing up behind you. Now that your view is unobstructed, the series of trapdoors above look seemingly endless. It kind of reminds you of those endless mirror hallways. Creepy. You pull yourself up into the room you started in. There is no nostalgia to be had, however, considering now you've decided you hate this shack and everything related to it. You see the pistol lying on the floor a short distance away. You saunter over and pick it up without any difficulties or incidents what-so-ever. A nice change of pace, considering every other seemingly simple task you've tried to do tonight ended up being monumental ordeals.

1 pistol added to inventory.

You pull your mallet out of your inventory and equip it in one hand and equip your almost-but-not-quite pistol in the other. Good, you now feel reasonably confident in your abilities to deal with any problems this shack can throw at you.

[STATUS CHANGED TO TENTATIVELY BRAVE]

Your thoughts are interrupted by a voice. It's not shouting, but loud enough to be heard over the rain. It's coming from the window near where you parked your brother's truck. The voice seems to be trying to poorly imitate engine and car sounds.

Unknown Voice: “Vroom! Vroom! Beep-beep! Skree! Vrmmm- Kablooey!”

Oh crepes almighty, what the hell now?

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SpoilerThe public's adoration for toys, novelties, and joke items is well know the world over. Consequently, it comes as no surprise that there are companies and organizations that specialize specifically in the production and distribution of these items. The largest and most well known of these being Farlow and Grimewatt's Pedigree Fun and Games, or FarGrime Games for short. Founded in 1818, it has consistently dominated the market and set records for the most hit bestselling toys of all time.
Interestingly enough, the company was originally intended to be a sarcastic joke. Having reputations for being miserly curmudgeons, both Farlow and Grimewatt devised a device they believed to be so pointlessly useless that no one in their right mind would buy it; the device in question resembled a small creature that, when squeezed, its eyes would bug out. They were both shocked and dismayed when they found out their useless novelty had sold out on the first day with many, many orders placed for more. After their company grew, both Farlow and Grimewatt developed a somewhat bipolar view of their success, bouncing back and forth between smug, self-assurance over obtaining their fortune 500 so handily and absolute self-loathing over their new hated professions as novelty peddlers. Self-loathing or no, the money was too good to leave. In fact, the money was so good, that on the morning of July 17, 1855 both Percy Farlow and Humphrey Grimewatt murdered each other in an attempted to avoid having to split the prophets. Police deduced that Farlow was bludgeoned to death with a Baby Chortle Charm Doll and Grimewatt was strangled with a kite string. After the tragic loss of its founders, the company went through a number of long term internal restructuring that allowed it to grow into the monolithic conglomerate we all know today. One of the most notable changes being that it hasn't had an executive president (now refered to as a CEO), since the mid-1940's. This is a result of FarGrime Games' very cutthroat and backstabbing internal politics that usually results in the new CEO ending up missing without a trace within a month. Currently, the topic of electing a new CEO at board meetings is met with uncomfortable coughs and quiet mumbling.
Presently, three of FarGrime's most notable modern successes are the Realistic Real-Fake Gun “You won't know the difference until it's too late”, the My Little Fjolsvin Baking Playhouse Play-set “Cookies good enough for Jötunheimr”, and the Tickle Me Widdershins. The Realistic Real-Fake Gun was a popular joke gift amongst the criminal underworld; in a firefight, everyone would share a laugh when the flag popped out before being gunned down by rival mobsters. The My Little Fjolsvin Baking Playhouse Play-set managed to combine the joys of the blood curdling carnage of Ragnarök with the useful home skill of baking; it's also regarded as one of the best baking play-sets of all time and continues to be the baseline all others are compared to. The Tickle Me Widdershins started a massive craze among holiday shoppers so large that FarGrime was hard-pressed to meet the demand. No less than 87 storefronts were burned down en masse by angry mobs when their stores ran out of stock. The public regards The Tickle Me Widdershins as FarGrime Game's biggest success by far.
Recently, there have been circulating rumors that FarGrime Games have been losing massive amounts of money due to a partnership deal with another, as of yet, unnamed company going sour. This has not yet been confirmed.

Softmind Software^tm Employee Announcement:

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SpoilerWe the management here at Softmind Software^tm would like to again congratulate you on your employment with us, as well as thank you for choosing us as your employers. This is an exciting opportunity for all parties involved as we are breaking into new fronts and will, hopefully, start turning a profit soon. Now, as a recent hire you naturally may have many questions. Questions like: “Do we get casual Fridays? Do we get paid overtime? Why is the management so bad with money? Why are there pinball machines everywhere? Why are we working in a stadium? Why aren't we allowed in the basement anymore? Why do the security guards keep foaming at the mouth? Why are no sources of artificial light allowed on the premises? No really, why are there seven pinball machines in my office?”
Most of those answers can be found in the employee pamphlet you were given at orientation. For everything else, we'll answer as best as we can.
Regarding our finances, you can't make progress without risks, it's just sometimes certain risks don't pay off as much as others. You don't need to worry about our budget and you especially don't need to worry about your paycheck. Money will not be an issue, we assure you.
It goes without saying that the type of work we do here is very finicky. Absolutely every aspect from top to bottom needs to be just so. We are developing all our secret projects in the basement, obviously it wouldn't do to let just anyone down there; it would ruin the surprise. There also needs to be a certain type of work environment. After strenuous and painstaking research we've determined that the ideal work space for our projects is one that requires an absolute absence of artificial light. We open the stadium roofs during the day to provide enough sunlight for you to work in, as well as a plethora of torches, candles, and lanterns for when the roofs need to close, such as during rain or nightfall. As a reminder, bringing a source of artificial light of any kind (flashlights, light bulbs, laptops, etc.) is a fireable offense without appeal. Some of our employees have voiced concerns about using a dot matrix printer interface for computers instead of monitors, we assure you it's all necessary and par for the course. Monitors would provide an unwanted light source and would disrupt our work environment. Also, to those of you working the night shift, if you need to leave your current facility to go to another, you are required by company policy to cover yourself with a heavy duty parasol (provided at every exit) for the entire duration you are outside. Starlight is also non-conducive to our designs.
Our company is very selective about who we enter into our employ, with rigorous requirements and many background checks. Our security guards are no different. They're all employees here just like like you. Just treat them like you would any other co-worker, ignore the tubing, and don't look them in the eye; you'll be fine. Finally, to address the most pressing concern. If you really have to ask why we have so many pinball machines, then perhaps you should also ask if this is really the right place for you to be working.
Hopefully this has put all of your concerns to rest. As our beloved workforce, your well being is our top priority. Now get back to work.

Authorized from the desk of Geraldine Hayes.

Non-Canon Bonus Scene:

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Spoiler

Quote:>Do that again, this time at point blank.

Your mind is still buzzing with philosophical questions and the wonders of science. Are there parallel universes? Who knows? The exciting part comes from the unanswered question. You could happily spend the rest of your life researching and puzzling over it. If only everyone in the world was as enlightened. Then there would be no wars, just unanswered questions and the desire to answer them. With so many people trying to find answers, soon in place of those questions would be truths. The world would enter a new age of enlightenment. All the world's problems would dissipate with everyone’s collaborative problem solving and everyone would live in a paradise.
You look over at the twisted misshapen form of the other-you howling and snarling with sparks flying out of its gaping mouth. You no longer see a monster and adversary, but rather, a kindred spirit. Just another soul being pulled along by the current of the vast river that is the universe. If only this other-you could see the world as you do now. You must share your new perspective with him, but how? There is too much to put into words. Much more that needs to be said than you could ever possibly say. If only there was a way you could share your thoughts with him. Wait, that's it! The only way you can save this poor, misguided soul is to let him hear your thoughts. All will be made clear then.
You look at the other-you intently and begin to focus. Your mind reaches and calls out to his, trying with all its might to beam thoughts of parallel universes, science, enlightenment, and peace into his. The other-you's struggles to pull you closer and kill you slow down as he notices you staring so deeply at him. As you continue, he begins to shift uncomfortably. Your focus heightens and your thoughts become more intense. The other-you lets go of your ankle and then begins glancing around nervously. It's not working, you need to try harder, get closer. Without breaking eye contact, you shift your body around until you're facing him completely. The other-you doesn't seem to know what to make of this. It knows deep down that, somehow, it's lost control of this situation, and now it's afraid. You begin shuffling your knees against the floor to scoot closer; still trying to send as many of your enlightened thoughts over as you can. Upon your approach, the other-you fanatically tries to back away, almost loosing his balance and falling back down through the trapdoor. You quickly put out your hand and grasp his shoulder to steady him and provide comfort. You lean in close and look into his eye-bulbs. You no longer see a monster behind those eyes, you see a lost soul, afraid and alone. You gently place your forehead against his. Willing with all your might that he hear your thoughts. “Don't worry,” you whisper, “I'm here for you.”
This gentle and thoughtful contact is finally broken when the other-you puts his hand against your face and slowly begins to push you away. Once you're finally at arm's length, the other-you let's go and slowly begins to stand up. As he nervously shuffles past you, he gingerly dusts himself off. Once he's confident that he's out of your reach, he stomps over to the door, opens it, and slams it shut as he steps out into the rainy night. After a few moments of silence you hear the engine of your brother's truck start up, and then it drives away.
Wow, what an asshole.