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It's only now that you realize that everything nearby is soaked in a monochrome hue of greys, blacks, and whites. The only colors that break that is your jacket so far.
[POI] I know who has to be in there. I recognize his presence anywhere. Don't you?
"N-No? Who?"
[POI] Well, he, her. I suppose it depends how you perceive him. We have to talk to them regardless. Carry on.
You take a deep breath. With hesitant steps, you head to the front door of the cabin and throw it open. The inside of the cabin isn't much better than the outside. A thick layer of that same slime coats the walls and floors, preventing you from really making out any details of the room you're in. The only unslimed objects are a table, the door to the basement, and a mirror.
On the table is a pristine...shotgun? It looks more like what a child would draw if you told them to draw a shotgun. Barely looks like it's even real. You grab it anyways. Best not to go down there unarmed.
>PRISTINE SHOTGUN ACQUIRED. Only has one slug in it. Make it count.
Looking at the mirror...you see yourself. Short and messy hair, a wiry frame that's showing some signs of getting thicker with muscle, jeans, leather boots, the bomber jacket, and a pair of pink eyes staring back at a the young woman in the mirror.
[POI] You should have some shades to hide those. Must've not been brought over. Tsk. You have to hide those eyes, Nicole. I don't care how.
"How else am I going to see, jackass?" You hiss.
[POI] Point is, you're still normal looking. You're still yourself. That's good. Keep that image of yourself in the back of your head. Don't forget it.
[POI] You'll need every advantage you can to make it out of here.
Before you have time to respond, the SMELL of the slime around you hits you. It smells like curled milk, moldy fruits and mint in here. Not a good combination of smells. It's starting to seep into your boots and god this is repulsive. You immediately kick open the basement door and head down.
The staircase is slick with even more slime. Every step is like trying to wade through a quagmire. A few clean paths on the stairs tells you that the staircase is supposed to be made out of some kind of strong, reinforced metal.
[POI] If you want some advice, listen to me. Be very careful how you use that shotgun. Once you use it, it's nothing more than a worthless hunk of plastic.
[POI] Make sure you're certain on what target you use it on.
<span class="mu-s">"NICOLE. WELCOME HOME."</span> A booming voice echoes from the bottom. <span class="mu-s">"I WAS BORED OF WAITING HERE."</span>
That voice sounds familiar. You immediately rush down the stairs to see who it is, well, as fast as you can rush down it without breaking your legs. Once you arrive at the bottom, you see that you're in a very small basement made out of the same reinforced metal as the stairs. A thin layer of slime has coated every possible inch of the room.
At the back, a figure is chained to the wall by a thick iron collar around their neck.
