Mr. Freeze ❅ Victor Fries (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
subzero) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_rpg2012-01-14 12:48 am
subzero) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-01-14 12:48 am
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One ❅
[For as alert and cautious as he is, Victor couldn't predict that he would suddenly be awoken to the sound of blaring alarms. And not only that, but with a woman in a bed. But, even more shocking than that, was the distinct lack of frozen walls or cold temperatures. For a panicked moment, he took his hands to the base of his neck and began to hyperventilate. He can't be out of the cold, he will die. He can't die. Not now and not like--
--But he became aware all too quickly that he was not dying. His body did not convulse like it did back in the lab after the accident and his skin...it was peach. Not a cold blue, but a regular peach. And then the second dawning hit him. That he was in the broken remains of Oceania with his wife, but in a bedroom. A normal bedroom, not much unlike the one he shared with Nora what felt like years ago.
The woman in the bed does not stir despite the alarms still roaring, so Victor quickly went to the closet and takes out a brown overcoat, a matching fedora and some shoes over his blue pajamas. No need to tempt fate that the woman may awaken to find him. So he quickly leaves the room and then the house, to figure out what in the world was going on. Not only with the noise but with himself.]
Action; During the nighttime sirens forward to the 16th
[As soon as he leaves 1651 Albright Lane, he immediately begins walking around the town, looking for people to speak with. Maybe someone here can help him decipher what is going on. Surely there will be people about with the sirens screeching as they are.
...Though he will naturally be wary at first. After all he is an escaped criminal, though not of his own will. But he doubts that many people will even recognize him without his suit or...well icy exterior so to speak. So if he sees someone who doesn't look like some sort of authority figure (which may as well be anyone not in a police uniform or a bat suit) he'll try to get their attention with a shoulder tap. Though his voice will be low regardless and doing his best to hide his facial features under the hat. Which may not help given the loud sirens.]
Excuse me!
Phone; Morning of the 16th
So I take it sirens won't be screeching every night? It would be hard to sleep under those conditions if we are seemingly trapped here. And I am assuming there is no way to make one of these fake people leave a bed?
[A frustrated sigh. He goes on.]
I don't know why I'm here or who sent me here, and I'm sure you have as little knowledge toward that. I don't really care. But-- [He pauses, trying to contain his voice and keep it leveled as possible. Being in his not destroyed body is making him feel a lot more human than he use to feel.] --But, if you happen to see a petite blonde woman named Nora for whatever reason, can you tell her that Victor is here? I ask of nothing else.
...
Also I assume one cannot change their occupation? I doubt I would make a very suitable guidance counselour for the youth of this dollhouse fantasy you call "Mayfield".
--But he became aware all too quickly that he was not dying. His body did not convulse like it did back in the lab after the accident and his skin...it was peach. Not a cold blue, but a regular peach. And then the second dawning hit him. That he was in the broken remains of Oceania with his wife, but in a bedroom. A normal bedroom, not much unlike the one he shared with Nora what felt like years ago.
The woman in the bed does not stir despite the alarms still roaring, so Victor quickly went to the closet and takes out a brown overcoat, a matching fedora and some shoes over his blue pajamas. No need to tempt fate that the woman may awaken to find him. So he quickly leaves the room and then the house, to figure out what in the world was going on. Not only with the noise but with himself.]
Action; During the nighttime sirens forward to the 16th
[As soon as he leaves 1651 Albright Lane, he immediately begins walking around the town, looking for people to speak with. Maybe someone here can help him decipher what is going on. Surely there will be people about with the sirens screeching as they are.
...Though he will naturally be wary at first. After all he is an escaped criminal, though not of his own will. But he doubts that many people will even recognize him without his suit or...well icy exterior so to speak. So if he sees someone who doesn't look like some sort of authority figure (which may as well be anyone not in a police uniform or a bat suit) he'll try to get their attention with a shoulder tap. Though his voice will be low regardless and doing his best to hide his facial features under the hat. Which may not help given the loud sirens.]
Excuse me!
Phone; Morning of the 16th
So I take it sirens won't be screeching every night? It would be hard to sleep under those conditions if we are seemingly trapped here. And I am assuming there is no way to make one of these fake people leave a bed?
[A frustrated sigh. He goes on.]
I don't know why I'm here or who sent me here, and I'm sure you have as little knowledge toward that. I don't really care. But-- [He pauses, trying to contain his voice and keep it leveled as possible. Being in his not destroyed body is making him feel a lot more human than he use to feel.] --But, if you happen to see a petite blonde woman named Nora for whatever reason, can you tell her that Victor is here? I ask of nothing else.
...
Also I assume one cannot change their occupation? I doubt I would make a very suitable guidance counselour for the youth of this dollhouse fantasy you call "Mayfield".
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Death does not quite work as one would expect in this place.
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So then to accompany the dollhouse, our own flesh bodies are nothing but dolls to be toyed with. What a terrible place. A fate that I certainly would never wish upon even the worst of those I know. Yet, you say it is so simply.
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