Mia
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Posts: 79
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Post by Mia on Jun 28, 2009 10:32:30 GMT -5
 Where am I?
...is your first thought as you awake on one of many cots in a room of great proportions. You look around, taking in your terrifyingly surreal surroundings. There are others around you, others who are very much like yourself. Some are still sleeping. Others, like you, are just beginning to awake. Some of the early risers look as confused as you feel, but others seem to have more of a grasp on their identity and surroundings. Squinting against the dim light, you can see that the lines of cots extend quite far in every direction, each filled by another drowsy occupant. But you still don't know where you are.
As you wrack your mind, you realize it is frustratingly bare. There's a name, but you're not sure of its significance. You mutter it softly to yourself, and it sounds natural on your lips; you decide that it must be your own. There's an age, too. Also yours, you decide. And the vague recollection that this is not the first time you've woken up on this cot. Perhaps, if you're lucky, you even remember the names of some of your cot-mates. More vividly than anything, there's a number. This number is also imprinted at the foot of your cot, and on the chest beyond. And though you can't see it, that same number has been tattooed onto the back of your neck. That number is the only thing you feel completely sure of. It is your identity.
A male voice, brazen with a rich Russian accent, rings from an unseen loudspeaker, interrupting your quiet attempts at remembrance. You realize that the voice, too, sounds familiar. "Good morn, residents," the voice says, and the sound of it echoes through the large room. "It is Saturday, the twenty-seventh of June. The following residents should report to the laboratory of their respective buildings." Your heart begins to beat faster as he goes through a list of numbers. Somehow, you know that the laboratory is bad news. You know you don't want to go there. But you feel calmer as the voice skips over your number, and you can breathe again as he finishes the daily list. "There are escorts at every barracks' door to show you the way to the laboratory if you feel lost. As for those who have not been called, the day is yours. You may go about life as you see fit. Have a nice day." You are relieved. Your number was not called. Yet, you can't help but feel a bit guilty as you watch others scramble toward the doors...
Welcome to Molonov Experimental Laboratories!
Whoever you are, you have been deemed an invisible. There must not have been anyone in the outside world who may have cared enough to go looking for you, because one of Molonov's many sharp-eyed scouts picked you up off the streets (or wherever else you came from) and carted you here, to a huge structure in the middle of the uncharted Russian taiga. Your mind has been wiped clean of all pre-experimental memories, apart from the very basics, like your name and age. Now, you are one of six hundred other residents, to be used as labrats for the twisted experiments of the frighteningly wealthy Viktor Molonov and his three associates.
Every week, one sixth of the resident population is chosen to receive the latest experimental drug in Molonov's crazed search to create the perfect being. These chemicals have varying consequences to their consumers, ranging from things as minuscule as mere cold-like symptoms, to things as dire and serious as death itself.
Think you can dodge Molonov's fatal bullet? See how many times they can pull the trigger before you run out of luck.
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