>>6010462You try and ignore your nose's protests as you head down the left vent shaft. You're curious about what could smell like... smell like... It seems you're drawing a blank. Your brain is telling you that this smell is EARTHY, but when have you ever been anywhere that <span class="mu-i">was</span> EARTHY? Like, a garden for instance. You can imagine and smell a garden in your mind's eye, but for the life of you, you can't remember actually ever going to one. Is there one near where you live? You feel a shiver run down your spine as a single thought surfaces above the rest.
<span class="mu-i">Where do you live?</span> You blink for a second as you start to realize that you have no memories of your home. Is it a house, an apartment? All you can remember... is work. Your breathing becomes ragged. In every waking moment, you work. You interact with JERRY, with your other coworkers at PEGASI COMMUNICATIONS. But you never clock out. You never spend any time outside of work. Your chest tightens. The cramped vent suddenly feels suffocating. You've got to get out of here. You've <span class="mu-s">got to—</span>
You fall through the grate of the vent. That really hurt. You adjust your glasses as you sit up. Dirt. You're sitting on dirt. Seems like the vent led to an indoor greenhouse. It's got its own irrigation system on the roof and everything. It would be pretty cool to sit here and enjoy your first garden experience, but you seem to have a gun pointed in your face. Priorities.
"Don't. Move. A muscle," the lady with the gun commands. On her left is a shorter girl with a hair bun; she seems nervous. On her right, a stern older man. Behind them, looming over everyone in the room, is... a modified BARRY? What the hell? The first thing you notice (aside from the pair of boxers that neatly cover his genitals, smart idea guys!) are the numbers 024 tattooed on his upper right clavicle. His eyes are also blue, as opposed to the red of a normal BARRY.
What the hell do you do?
>Get the fuck out of there. (you MOVE)>Fight to the death. (enter FIGHTING STANCE)>Just do what they say. (you SURRENDER)>Or maybe... (Write-In!) 