[OPEN] Prick your fingers, it is done, the moon has now eclipsed the sun

[manufactured]

WHO: Albert Wesker (eventually) and whomever decides to join him (presumably you!)
WHERE: Dreamscapes.
WHEN: Slightly backdated to 8/24.
WHAT: Dreamdiving.
WARNINGS: Medical experimentation, brainwashing, child abuse, violence, body horror, depictions of self-harm, a general blanket warning that Wesker has been through Some Shit and as such this is probably going to suck on several levels.

[It's cold.

It isn't the familiar drop in temperature that might come from the weather, but a sterile, artificial chill, the sort associated with medical work - hospitals and laboratories and other places that bring with them a sharp, chemical smell and an unpleasant sense that you don't really want to be there.

Of course, the metal table against your back probably isn't doing much to keep you warm, either.

Trying to sit up will be a bit of a problem, given the heavy restraints locked around your wrists and ankles, your hips and your upper body; they're a combination of metal and leather, old-fashioned and imposing, clearly designed to restrain something very, very powerful, and they're keeping you from going very far. You can look around enough to tell that where you are is...probably not somewhere you want to stay for long - it is, in fact, a laboratory of some sort, full of instruments and vials and jars of things that don't look very nice, the metal walls giving way somewhere just on the edges of your line of sight, turning into something else - a sort of open entrance to what looks like a cave of some sort. Either way, it'll probably take you somewhere that isn't here if you follow it. Tipping your head back will show another potential exit to the area - a metal door in the wall near all the instruments and materials.

Of course, you can't really utilize either route if you're bound down, now, can you? You should probably work on figuring out what you're going to do about that, first.]

Comments

[manufactured]

[Sergei won't remain in your line of sight for very long; he'll move back, and it isn't long before he seems to disappear back entirely into the smoke from the downed train car.

...Which is probably unsettling, because god only knows where he's going, but it seems he'll let you leave. For now.]

[scythegun]

[HE DOESN'T LIKE IT but that's better than having to fight him, so...

Okay. Time to get around the train wreckage and head to that door on the other side. First things first, can he hear anything? Oh, and can he even get that door open, that's probably important too.]

[manufactured]

[There's some sort of noise audible through the door - some sort of odd dragging noises, perhaps, some disembodied noises that definitely indicate that there are people of some sort there, and inexplicably there's something that sounds distinctly like water; the door will open, but it's rather dark beyond it.]

[scythegun]

[Oh boy, he doesn't like the sound of that. He doesn't like the darkness either! Shame he doesn't carry a flashlight on him, he's just not cut out to be a Resident Evil character.

He'll wait for a moment to see if his eyes adjust to the darkness. Are there any changes in the sounds once the door's open and while he's waiting?]

[manufactured]

[They seem to stop. Which is probably not ominous at all.

However, there's a lightswitch on the wall nearby, if you want to try that.]

[scythegun]

[...He's really not going to like turning on the light, is he.

Well, might as well get this over with! Let's flip the switch!]

[manufactured]

[Don't worry, unless you're afraid of stairs, the lightswitch should be safe to turn on.

There's more dead silence from below you, but it seems that whatever you were hearing was echoing up a stone stairwell, leading several steps down and stopping at a landing about partway through, leading you into another blind turn to your left and down more stairs. The stairs look cracked, and some of them seem to have stains that were probably blood once on them, though those are long dried and nowhere near fresh and the stairs don't look like they're going to crumble. Just like the whole setup has seen better days.]

[scythegun]

[Well, this isn't terrible, but it's still putting him on edge. It doesn't look like there's much of a choice, so he'll descend to the landing before pausing. His steps have probably echoed down there, so if he pauses, will he hear anything?]

[manufactured]

[All quiet on the downstairs front, captain.]

[scythegun]

[Great, time to head blindly downstairs and hope he doesn't die, then!! He'll stop if he hears anything abnormal, but otherwise what's going on down here?]

[manufactured]

[The stairs open up into another large, long room, once again made of stone and concrete and reinforced steel; the ceiling is low in here, however, and it's lit by occasional sconces on the wall giving off a dulled, bronzed cast to the entire area. It's divided down the center by an opening in the stone floor, about four feet wide and running the length of the room, stopping just short of the end walls near the stairs you're on and what looks like a lead-in to another corridor down on the end; there are places to stand and a couple of areas where you can cross over, solid areas to walk across so you don't have to try to jump - thankfully enough, because there's water inside, thick and murky. It seems stagnant, and it's so dark that you can't see the bottom - so either it's very deep, or it's something you don't want to touch by any means.

So that's the center of the room; the walls, however, contain with several large openings covered with bars - a dungeon, a prison, lined with cells that are large enough to contain people but nowhere near enough to actually sustain them in any meaningful, humane sort of way. The stagnancy of the water is only slightly covering the unmistakable smell of decay here; some of the cells seem to be open, some don't, but either way there's a lot more of that old, dried blood on the floor and walls in this area.]

[scythegun]

[Ugh, gross. Everything about this is gross. But as much as he'd like to turn back, he's not going back to that room to face Birkin again. His pride absolutely will not allow it.

So! Time to pick a side (left, if it matters) and head down it, careful not to get too close to either the water or the cages. He'll check the cages as he goes - is there anything in any of them on either side?

He's also keeping an eye on the water because he has played horror games, nothing good ever comes from dark, disgusting water like that.]

cw: descriptions of corpses, inhumane conditions, implications of self-harm, child abuse

[manufactured]

[Don't worry, the water remains still. It doesn't seem like there's anything about to grab you or bite your ankles or shank you in the tendons from that direction.

The cells, however... The cells seem to contain corpses.

They seem like they've been down here for years, mottled and emaciated, dried greying skin stretched tight over bodies almost devoid of fat or muscle, all having been drained away with decomposition; it looks almost like they've been mummified by their surroundings and the passage of time. They don't seem to have been in the best mental state, either - the cells are marked up with smeared blood and odd scratches in the walls, and dark marks at about head-level with a standing person. Some of the bodies themselves are propped up against the walls and hugging their knees to their chests, heads down; more of them are lying down on their sides in what's unmistakably the fetal position.

It's depressing, is what it is. Repulsive, but depressing. If you don't look too hard, they seem to be adults.

If you do...well, most of them seem to be adults.]

[scythegun]

[...Oh.

It's absolutely repulsive and while he wants to look away, he can't help but stare for entirely too long. He's not sure when exactly he starts shaking, but it's probably around the time he realizes that these aren't all adults.

It takes him a moment, but he finally tears his eyes away, focusing on the corridor at the end. He's seen more than he ever really needed to down here, and if he doesn't keep going... well, who knows what'll happen to Wesker? He can't let that happen. He has to press on.

His steps are a little too quick as he approaches that corridor, but he'll pause before heading down it. Is there anything he can hear or see from here?]

[manufactured]

[You'll definitely notice something before you leave.

The last cell on the left - the thirteenth of them, total, actually - doesn't seem to be empty, nor does it seem to be containing a corpse. The person inside it is likewise sitting curled against the wall and doesn't seem to be responding to much of anything; he seems very young, but he's still very much alive.]

[scythegun]

[...The thirteenth, huh...

Well, that's going to get his attention and for the moment he'll forget all about the hallway. The first order of business is to try the door to the cell, is it locked?]

Hello, can you hear me?

[He keeps his voice low, though it should be loud enough for the kid to hear him.]

[manufactured]

[It isn't locked.

Whether the kid can hear you or not is another question, though; there doesn't seem to be much visible response, he's just keeping his head down. His eyes are open, though they're a bit hard to see given that he's keeping his head down; his hair is unmistakably blond, though, and his limbs seem to be shaking a bit where he's sitting. He's still breathing and everything, though, and though his clothes are nondescript they don't seem to be in too much disrepair.]

[scythegun]

[Okay, at least the door isn't locked. He'll open it and come in; he's careful not to be too loud, but he's certainly not trying to sneak up on the boy either. Once he's close enough he'll move to crouch nearby, though he's not reaching out to touch and he's not too close, just in case the kid wants to draw away.]

Hello. My name is Jaeger. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I want to help you.

[He keeps his voice low and steady, as soothing as he can get it.]

Can you tell me your name?

[...He's sure the kid won't talk, but he doesn't really need him to, if his assumption is right.]

[manufactured]

[He'll look up after a moment, though his eyes are really, really unfocused. Alarmingly so. Whatever he's seeing in front of him, it's...possibly not you.

That said, he doesn't answer verbally and he doesn't draw back; there's very little movement or response, really.]

[scythegun]

[That's... a little unnerving, um. Not the silence, but the unfocused look in his eyes. Does he look injured or anything?]

...This is a very scary place, ja? Have you been here for a long time?

[His voice doesn't reflect his worries any, thankfully. Maybe he can at least get yes or no answers...?]

[manufactured]

[There does seem to be blood flecked on his face and his hands, but it's not much, and it seems to be in a way that...implies it isn't his own.

He'll kind of glance over like he's trying very, very hard to parse the question; it doesn't really seem to be clicking very well.]

[scythegun]

[That's... not good, but at least it's not his own.

He's sort of wondering if his accent's hard to understand, um. He'll try it again, taking the question a bit slower.]

Have you been here for a long time?

[manufactured]

[There's a distinct lack of a response to that as well, but it was a good try; he does seem to be trying to register that you're here and what you're trying to do, at least, with...minimal success, but at least there's an actual effort being forth into it.]

[scythegun]

[Hmm... Well, at least he seems to be trying to listen. After a moment of thought, Jaeger holds out a hand. He doesn't exactly expect the kid to take it, but it's the same sort of thing he usually offers to Wesker when he's not sure if touching him is a good idea.]

I promise I won't hurt you. I'm sure you're very wary of everyone right now, and I'm someone you've never seen before. But I want to help you; I certainly don't want to leave you here all alone. I don't like being alone, it's kind of scary, ja?

[He doesn't really expect a response, the words are more to keep the child's attention while he tries to sort out what to do here.]

[manufactured]

[He seems to understand the physical gesture, at least; he sort of blinks dully at the hand being offered to him before reaching out and accepting it, the motion strange and blunted. He still doesn't offer words, and he's still keeping his head down and his eyes averted.]