Game On

Hello, dear listeners, and thank you for tuning in. I'm your host, DJ Narra, and have I got a show lined up for you all tonight! You're listening to FM 6.66 and we're diving headfirst into the bizarre, the uncanny, and the downright extraordinary. So, keep your third eye open, your tin foil hats secured, and your crystal balls polished...
Tonight, folks, I present to you "Metroskate Bloodbath!"


The sky grows dark over a small desert town, and alongside the streetlamps, the bright neon sign of Metroskate West flickers on. The roller rink has recently come under the new ownership of one Mr. Dirk Trotter, who's managed to halt the slow painful death of the obsolete business and breathe new life into it with a shiny new exterior. The Metroskate West has once again become the talk of the town.

Your crew has decided to check out what all the fuss is about. One by one, you push open the doors.

As you enter the lobby, laser lights burst out through a haze of heavy artificial fog. You can barely even make out the skating rink. The closest hint is just the sound of skates on wood... and the occassional sound of someone splashing through a puddle. It's almost drowned out entirely by the thumping techno beat, there is the constant hum of a tone. Like the constant whine of microphone feedback... but it sounds... pleasant, somehow. It feels ... warm and welcoming.

A ticket booth and the skate rental stand between you and your fun night out.

"FAR OUT," says Ruben looking at the lasers interacting with the artificial fog. Of course his voice is drowned in the cacophony surrounding them, but he says it anyway.

He moves forward, soaking in the vibe of the place. Not bad at all... I can see this place attracting a lot of chicos y chicas to fill my pockets...

He nods his head on the beat, feeling like a disco hero in the uplifting power chords shooting out of the amps. He is quite scrawny, latino, has good moves and -he thinks- the big shades and baseball cap make him look like a goddamn boss.

He feels the music, and for a while lets it move his body, hands spontaneously going into rap signs.
"Yo feel the BEAT...
either win or you CHEAT...
in this mother****in' HEAT...
Bro, I sell good SHIT..."
he starts bellowing over the music.

His ego and his sense of business both converge in wanting to be noticed. He looks around to check out the crowd.

Rachel adjusts her glasses as she steps hesitantly into the roller rink. The young Jewish woman is short and somewhat chubby, with large eyes and brown hair. She is dressed in preppy clothes, having met up with the others from her job as a teacher’s assistant at the local university. A purse is slung over one shoulder, while she clutches a heavy, oversized leather notebook protectively to her chest.

Rachel had been drawn to this eclectic group for their shared interest in occult secrets and mysteries. As Ruben scans the area, she feels the strange tone suffusing her chest with warm feelings. "Oh, well this is... kinda nice, right? Not what I’d expected but..."

She trails off. "I don’t have any skates. I’d better get some." She begins to walk in the direction of the skate rental booth...

Bob likes his routine. Tonight, like all the other days, he wears basic black clothes that cover his small body.
What is not routine is the very fact that Bob goes out to see friends.
He is a bit out of practice but didn't forget his skates.

"'sup?" he says to the group in a rasp. Bob isn't the smoothest talker.

The loud sounds welcome him back, and the illuminated fog seems almost warm. He doesn't remember whose idea this night was, but it really was a great one.

---

Don't let Henrietta Jame's clean fresh look fool you. She's really a nervous wreck but tries to hide it. Her apartment is a mess so she compensates with her almost perfect appearance: blond hair coifed in a neat ponytail. Clean crisp jeans with seams ironed in (who does that anyway?), white starched blouse, top button not fastened. Walking smartly to the rental counter she tells the loser on the other side what size she needs and rummages in her pockets for some cash since she never brings a pocketbook on outings such as these. Then she starts humming loudly, a very uncharacteristic move because she's tone-deaf and it comes out sounding horrible.

"Nice fog, huh?" Then she looks around for the others, sees Bob and Rachel, and says, "Hey."

Sadie rolls in, fashionably late as always. She skids to a stop, kicking her skateboard up under her arm, and flashes a peace sign to the assembled group. She wears a half-collar tank, over which spills her medium-length black hair. Other than that, she wears a pair of dark grey jeans and a flannel tied up around her waist. A pair of black high-tops protect her feet as she hops up the curb and enters the door. Her eyes slide to Ruben, then sail to the air in an exaggerated roll at his less-than-proficient rapping.

"Shit, Rube," she chuckles, "just let the music play. Believe me, DJ's not looking anything you got to add."

She begins to bob her head along to the beat as the bass sets in, looking at the others with a grin.

"Speaking of, whoever's at the table sounds like they know their shit."

On your way in, you pass the ticket booth. The glass is tinted red and foggy, like warped shower glass, and backlit. You can only barely discern the blurry silhouette of the attendant behind the glass, who waves to you.

"Welcome to Metroskate West! How many people today? Not that it matters. All are welcome, on the request of our DJ Corbin, and the more the merrier! I'm happy to inform you that admission is free for tonight, as is the skate rental. You won't need money where you're going after this!"

The attendant's hand? slides a clump of tickets out from underneath the ticket window. "These are for the rental if any of you need skates of your own. Though it looks like some of you already came prepared!"

You have no idea how they can see enough to make out what any of your are carrying in the first place.

The tickets are... soggy. They're leaving a bit of a dribble down the side of the counter.

Rachel takes the uncomfortably moist ticket and looks at it dubiously. "Um, thanks?" she says to the attendant. "Kinda weird, but whatever."

She makes her way to the skate rental counter to get a pair for herself.

Ruben grins at the known faces, commenting at each one.
"Rachel! Whoa, nobody told me it was School Disco night..."
"My man Bob! Nice pyjamas, bro..."
He takes a bow. "... and even Dame Henrietta The First is here? This is gonna be good!"
Then turning to the skateboarder, "You're right Sadie... I'm killing the DJ-mo-jo with my BS-ju-ju.."

He shows his own skates to the hidden ticket man, and walks through getting one of the tickets. "Shit, man... you blew your nose on these?" he grimaces.

Bob nods to the booth while taking his sticky ticket.
"Ruben, do you know if there is a weird theme night stuff going on this evening? Anyway, glad to see you as amped up as usual." he says softly.
He then follows Rachel inside. He'd rather sit down somewhere to put his skates on.

"Shutup Ruben." Henrietta smiles though. Ruben was alright "Yay freebies but ugh, gross. Why are they so disgusting?" Henrietta decides not to dwell on where the dampness came from and just celebrate their being free. Money was in short supply after all.

Finding a seat after she gets her skates she struggles to tie them up. One of the laces is missing half its length.

"Shit. No wonder they're free," she says with a grimace. After a bit, she manages to get her skates to fit comfortably and stands up. Her hips start to sway in time with the music. "Man! This music is, I dunno, really good! Hey Bob, I think the theme is just awesome music."

Turning to Rachel she shrugs. "Just enjoy it for what it is."

He pats Bob on his back, "Bob, my man, I DO hope there's a weird theme. Or we won't fit in, you know what I'm saying? "

The rink itself is still almost completely obscured to you through the fog, but you can hear the sound of wheels on a wood floor.
The seating area is littered with bags already. A couple of energy bars have spilled out onto the floor. Messy, but the normal kind of messy.
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The skate rental is attached to the pro shop. The glass to the door of the pro shop is shattered.
The body of a man in a black suit and tie has been thrown through the door. He has that secret agent look to him. Well, had. His black agent-y looking glasses have slipped down to reveal that this man is both clearly deceased and clearly missing his eyes. A file folder is in one hand, though its contents have exploded everywhere. However, still stuck to the door of the pro-shop is a paper reading 'Specimen Log'.
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The skate rental is a similar story.
You find the employee working the counter... slumped over with a screwdriver in his ear.
But hey, there's still plenty of skates available.

The ticket booth attendant calls out to you. "Oh, I forgot! Randy's taking his break right now. I can take care of you in the meantime."

The door of the ticket booth swings open, and a pool of blood leaks out onto the carpet. Oh.
It turns out there wasn't red-tinted glass in there.
No, it looks more like the inside of the booth was sprayed down by a pressure washer's worth of gore, likely originating from the third corpse of the night (congratulations). Well... that explains why the tickets are gross. The eyeless corpse of the ticket attendant is still seated in a chair, forming the silhouette you were talking to.

"Forgive me if I lose my voice a little coming over there." Somehow her jawbone is still moving, but it quickly goes slack.

Something drops out of her mouth and onto her lap, and then onto the floor, scuttling across to you.
A clutch of human eyes, formed into a hand, the optic nerves serving as the fingers.

"Bob, I dunno th- WHAT THE FUCK?!" Sadie jumps back as she sees the eyeless man.

Then, she sees the unfortunate receiver of the screwdriver.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!"

Third, and finally, the exploded man.

"WHAT THE FU-AAHHHHH!!"

Reacting instinctively to... whatever the hell is approaching, Sadie pulls a can of mace from her pocket and sprays the everloving shit out of this eyeball... thing.

"What the hell? Ok sorry guys, but I'm bailing out, this is not the evening I had in mind."
Bob swiftly turns back and stops in front of a door. It should be the exit door and the green sign is lit. But there is blood everywhere, especially in the middle where the bump bar should. It just isn't there anymore, and the door won't budge without it."Not to freak you out even more, but we can't leave..."

Bob walks carefully to the deceased agent and grabs the Specimen Log. He then rummages though his suit, in case this agent had anything else interesting on him.
"Man, what a mess..."

"EEEK!" Rachel shrieks as the horrors become apparent, one after the other. She recoils from both the pro shop and the skate rental booth. When the eyeball thing starts to scuttle towards them, she backpedals so quickly that she ends up tripping and falling backwards, landing heavily on her rear end. "Oh my God! Oh my God!!!" she cries out, her breath coming in quick and ragged gasps. She stares with wide eyes as Sadie steps in front of her, mace in hand...

Ruben initially thinks this is one of his stoned hallucinations, then sees the others are also seeing it.

"WHOAWHOAWHOA!!" he shouts, stumbling back from the various horrors. "You see this too? What kind of weirdo sick sonofabitch came up with this shit?!?"

He then sees the eye-thing crawling closer like a spider from hell, and grabs one of his heavy skates, brandishing like a club and slamming it at the freak creature.
"BACK! STAY BACK, you fuckin' eyeball spider!!" Slam! Slam! Slam!

"You wanted theme? YOU GOT THEME! Jesus fucking Christ. These are all special effects, right? RIGHT?"

Henrietta freezes in place, shocked into a stupor. But her eye catches Bob grabbing something and being the evidence-based researcher she is, it knocks her back into awareness as she tries to skate over to Bob.

The door has no handle, and appears to suddenly be one-way. Bob's right. You're stuck.

The Specimen Log appears as follows:

The eyeball-hand-watchamacallit did not see any of this coming, so it wasn't looking for a fight (get it? It would be funnier without the threat of death.). Sadie's mace hits it dead on, causing the entire thing to shrivel up like a bug shot with bug spray, nerve-fingers still twitching. Ruben sprints in to finish it off, smashing it into a paste with the wheels of his skates.

Even if the specimen log says it's all a 'hallucination', it still feels completely real to all of you.