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Day 034 / text / @h.hart

[signet]

[MID MORNING]

[Harry Hart is not a religious man. When he wakes up in a freezing shack at dawn's first light, he doesn't wonder if this is heaven or hell. The thought briefly crosses his mind that it's rather a miracle that he's still alive, and then he sets to work figuring out where exactly this place is, and why he's here. (The fact that he had almost certainly died was something to worry about later, once the present situation had been assessed.)

He checks his inventory first -- no weapons. Even the blade in his shoe's been removed. Shouting "Merlin" at his glasses, unsurprisingly, has no effect, so they've either been damaged or the network's been severed or blocked.

He's stranded.

After a thorough search of the building he's in, he turns to the tablet and scours the network, reading and listening, filing away pieces of information that seem useful. A few things stand out to him:

Most people here are young. No one knows how or why they're here. The person behind this is very, very good.

It's a few hours before he finally sends out a message of his own. He'd cracked open the front door with the intention of heading out, only to realize that wandering aimlessly in that much snow in nought but a suit, coat, and Oxfords was not his finest plan. He'll avoid it at all costs, if possible.]

Where should one go to find a more suitable pair of shoes? I'm afraid I didn't dress for snow.

@lawbringer

[cloneprincess]

[ Interesting priorities, but Miranda supposes everything else has been hashed out on the network in the past few days; if this person is smart, they'll have already been over what's publicly available and drawn their own conclusions. Miranda doesn't particularly expect anyone here to be smart in their first few hours - though many of her fellow captives have surprised her, especially with as young as they are - but she doesn't rule it out, either. ]

As far as I'm aware, no one has located a shoe store. A few people have found useful things searching through the remaining buildings and rubble.

[ Miranda herself has found cosmetics, a mirror, and a brush. She suspects someone, somewhere, is taking the piss. ]

How badly off are you?

[signet]

As I feared.

[Not that he'd expected a shoe store, per se -- more like hoped for a cache of supplies for newbies somewhere.

As for how badly off he is --]

Oxfords. Better than nothing; I'll make do.

[That username had grabbed his attention straight away. It could mean nothing, or it could belong to an overzealous civilian who fancies themselves honorary sheriff. The only way to know for certain is to ask.]

Are you police?

[cloneprincess]

[ The woman who came here in battle heels doesn't have a lot of sympathy right now. They're fine on hard surfaces, but having them sink into the snow every time she hit a softer patch is making her question all of her choices up until this point. ]

Not as such. Prior to the war where I came from, I did administrative work for a medical facility.

[ How her own profession relates to law bringing is left for them to work out. For now, she's sticking to the backstory she implied with House a few days ago. ]

If there's law enforcement here, I haven't met them yet.

[signet]

[Thank God he'd decided to leave his battle heels at home this morning.]

Military, then? And not native, obviously.

[Because there are no natives, which means no armed guards either.]

This is rather a shit kidnapping job at first glance.

[cloneprincess]

[ Miranda pauses over the keyboard, actually snorting at their reaction. ]

I'd say it's rather impressive job, really, though I've yet to work out any kind of sensible endgame. They've managed to kidnap people from across space, time, and possibly parallel universes and bring them here. Most if not all seem to perceive no significant time passing between their last memories of home and waking up in Norfinbury. Whatever else you say about them, that has to be a staggering resource expenditure.

Unfortunately for us, they don't seem too interested in keeping us alive or comfortable once they spend all the money to get us here. I suppose they wouldn't have to be, though.

[ She leaves the military question in the air, unsure how to answer it even if she weren't lying through her teeth. ]

[signet]

Hence "at first glance."

Even amateurs rely on one or two armed guards, even without a solid security system at hand. One can only assume that a kidnapper with no guards, no security to speak of - who then provides their unrestrained captives with a potential link to the outside world via these tablets - must be a blathering idiot.

That is, until one realises there's no need for guns or alarms when one is kept in complete isolation.

[Limited resources and a steadily growing population are the real looming threat here. Just as frightening as staring down the barrel of a gun, Harry thinks.

He's still not sure how he feels about the possibility of people being dragged here from across time and space and different worlds, but if it's true then this is someone even the Kingsman can't stop. The thought is chilling.]

So we're dealing with a madman with infinite resources and unclear motive. Do they want ransom, or are we just ants in the ant farm?

Frankly, I'm not sure which is worse.

[cloneprincess]

I doubt the answer is ransom, if they aren't completely incompetent. [ - And Miranda knows mad men with infinite resources; they tend to have sane subordinates if they get very far. ]The setup is far too inconvenient and I doubt most here would bring enough to cover the costs of both bringing them and periodically resurrecting them.

[ She makes no mention of bringing them back, because no kidnapper worth the name bothers with that. ]

The cost of revival alone has to be at least a billion credits for anything other than freezing to death. Tissue regeneration isn't cheap. Much easier to keep the victims in cryosleep.

Ant farm is far more likely, given that we're conscious. A few dozen people in psychologically stressful conditions, with limited resources and the means by which to cooperate or destroy one another will tell you plenty about human nature, if you're interested. The 20th century novel "The Lord of the Flies" comes to mind.

Text @Enoch

[warriorscribe]

[Enoch assumes he was taken here either barefoot or, like him, in sandals.]

If you've nothing else, the mattresses here are made of some sort of foam if you have the tools to cut one open. It's pliant and quite warm, though you'll need something to bind it to your feet with. It's a rather destructive and quite temporary solution, but it will protect your feet for a few days.

[It also tends to get moldy if you don't let it dry, which is gross, but better moldy than frostbitten.]