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.
------------------------------------------------------------
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'.
-----------------------------------------------------------
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.

Ruben high-fives Sadie, buzzing for the adrenalinic rush.
"Team work! That's whatI'mtalkinabout!"

He then calls out all around, pointing at the splattered eye-thing. "See that, motherf***ers? That's what's gonna happen to y'all if you don't open that damn door, like, right now."

In reality he is quite spooked, and out of his comfort zone.

Bob raises his thumb. "Yay for the team"
He then turns back to Henrietta. "Don't know if this helps much, but apparently our brains are playing their own special effects, yeah. Wanna help me look through the pro shop and the skate rental, see if we can find anything useful?"

While he waits for her to answer, he takes out his Directional Microphone and registers the ambient sound. He is trying to see how a machine records (and replays) the Tone.

The Pro Shop is mostly just extra pairs of skates. But also a can of skate disinfecting spray. The corpse of Randy the skate rental attendant has an almost empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Cheers for lighters and aerosols.

"Hallucinations, my ass. I know hallucinations. That was not fucking hallucinations."

Sadie does not respond to Rubén’s high five, visibly shocked that he would act so jovial in such a situation.

With the eye-thing splattered, Rachel rises up on shaky legs. "This is bad. This is very bad," she mutters, adjusting her glasses. "We can't leave. So... so that means we have to keep going. Find out what's causing this, and put to a stop to it. Right?"

Showing the lighter and can: "You like yourself some fire, Henrietta? Otherwise, I'll keep them."The seriousness of the situation is starting to creep in. And yet, in a contradictory way, the atmosphere of the place is still warm and Bob wouldn't mind staying here. For a long time.

He shivers. "Let's take a look at the rink?"

The Tone picks up like any other sound. However, as you begin to replay it, it starts harmonizing with the original audio being piped through the Metroskate speakers. You hear a mechanical buzz and crackle, and for a second the lights flicker like you've flipped a circuit.
For a second, the smoke dissipates, and you can catch sight of the area at large: the glittering lights and blips of the arcade, the flickering neon sign of the laser tag arena, a haze of acrid smoke billowing out from the dining area.

And at the center of everything: the Rink .

Dozens of people of all ages skate are skating in small groups, holding hands and just going around and around and around in concentric circles. They stare up at the disco ball in the center of the ring, beaming pinpoints of light down into their bleeding, unblinking eyes. The rink is slick with blood being smeared and dragged into macabre glyphs under their wheels.
They've been going for a while. Probably for hours before you even arrived. This is a ritual.

Each circle of people is causing a separate tone, harmonizing along with Bob's recording.

"Ya think?" Henrietta asks Bob sarcastically, hands now over her ears for some odd reason. Nodding at Rachel and Sadie she follows them to the rink, her hands and fingers trembling.

"Shit. Those guys skating there are like robots. What the hell is happening here? Real ... unreal it's happening. I don't want to be like them. Nope. You can keep your fire Bob. I'm too shaky to be trusted with anything like that. See?" She removes her ear protection and then grimaces at the tones but she won't look at the lights directly.

"I don’t want to be like that, either," Rachel says with a shudder. She points to the arcade. "Maybe we should check that out first?"

"Let's... not go into the rink. I don't want to end up doing... whatever it is they're doing over there. Do you think there's any way to stop them? Maybe if we could get rid of the disco ball, 'cause it looks like it's... I dunno, mesmerizing them, or something. Though I don't really know if things will be better if they're no longer distracted."

Sadie looks around for any pulley system via which the disco ball can be raised, lowered, or sent crashing into the ground. Just in case.

"I think that our best bet is unplugging the speakers, though, if this... "Tone" thing is causing all this."

He looks speechless (for once) at the grotesque scene on the rink. His jaw is dropped. The skaters parading in bloody circles, like a carousel from hell.

He only snaps out of it when he hears Sadie's suggestion.
He points at her emphatically, "Word! Skateboard Gal's right!!" He turns around to look at obvious speakers within reach, "we bust their sound system!"

"Yep! The speakers, Sadie. That's gotta be where the weirdness is coming from. But maybe bust up the source too, Rubin. Like where's it originating from?"

"Let me one sec to put my skates on, and we can move towards where the DJ is."
Walking the talk, he continues with an uncertain voice, "I guess it's the place with glass and neons near the entrance. Hopefully, it is both the sound system and the source."
Bob doesn't mention the rink. He focuses his attention on the next achievable steps, and there is nothing right (or achievable for that matter) about what goes on the rink.

"WHAT??" Bob begins to shout and then tone down his voice.
Unsure, he adds "We should stop them, right? I mean, I guess it will probably slow down the weird stuff on the rink and give us a bit more time to figure out what the hell is happening?"
He stamps his skates, uncomfortable "Or maybe we should just forget we saw anything and rush to the Sound Booth to stop all this madness?"

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Yeah, yeah, that door. Let' go there. Henrietta's skate rolls up against something soft. The wheel gets stuck, followed by a squish and then a grinding sound. A feeling of nausea passes over her in waves but she fights it and screams, pointing at the employee door.

"Let go that way! Ig more the ... all that other stuff...."

Rachel goes pale. "Oh, God. I think I'm... I'm going to be sick..." She staggers over to the nearest garbage can and begins to vomit into it.

Ruben's attempts at stealth are hindered by his jitters and by the racket his rollerskates make with every step...

Bob skates smoothly and discreetly to the door, avoiding the whole ritualistic cannibalism stuff he'd rather ignore. He turns back to the combined sounds of someone puking and wheel being as loud as they can be imagined to be.
He gesticulates, hoping for the rest of the group to be quieter. It's probably too late, though.

Bob opens the "Employee Only" door, enters the corridor and look for heavy stuff to block the door behind him, to keep the group as safe as possible after they arrive.

Rachel wipes at her mouth with her sleeve as she weakly stumbles after the rest of the group...

Bob and Sadie make it to the exit door without a hitch. However, as they go to grab the handle, the rest of you aren't as lucky. The clattering from skates and the overall commotion alerts not the Tone-infected... but the man they're feasting upon. He sits bolt upright, despite his injuries, and lets out a garbled shriek of "HELP ME!!!" as he reaches a bloodied hand out, just barely snatching at the edge of Henrietta's blouse. The people feasting shove him back down right away and finish the job.
But now two of the Tone-infected patrons have turned their attention to you, and you all look like a delicious new meal. Most of the crowd has already gone back to their business on the rink, thank god. There's a new problem at hand, though.

The fryer oil begins to bubble, and... something that absolutely reeks begins to come streaming out of it.
Long, squidlike tentacles, dripping with grease. They grab the infected cook and pull him into the fryer, releasing another plume of smoke.
Anyone fancy some calamari?

"Ohshitohshitohshi-" Sadie ducks and looks around for anything she could use as an improvised weapon.

"CANNIBALS AND TENTACLES???? YOU GOTTA BE KIDDIN ME!!" he shouts, and grabs one of his roller skates two-handed like an anti-ergonomic club, shaking like a meth addict with delirium tremens.

Henrietta screams at the sight of the man being eaten alive and shrieks when he grabs her blouse, shrieking again after swallowing a big gulp of air when she sees two others that are clearly infected, cast their demonic eyes in her direction.

Bob grabs his pipe (Let whoever is without a reachable pipe at all times cast the first tap) and rolls to smash the octopus-thing or a patron, whichever is the closest.
"It's an ad for a new ultra-gore VR thing, it has to be."

Rachel simply shrieks, temporarily paralyzed into inaction!

Bob skates to the deep fryer and violently hits the greasy squid, doing his best to avoid staining himself.

"Crispy rings, anyone?" he asks softly, trying (fruitlessly) to joke.

Hopefully, this will be enough and they'll have the opportunity to breathe a bit soon. This mess is tiring.

"You... you better stay back, Man... I'm gonna have to smash your face... YOU BETTER STAY BAAAAACK..."

As Tone-Infected Man 1 keeps advancing towards him despite his shaky warnings, Ruben closes his eyes and swings the two-handed rollerskate club at the incoming thing's face.

SMACK!!!

"Goddammit... I told you to stay back...." he whines, wincing at the messy damage he caused.

"You should die you disgusting creature!"

Henrietta pumps a round into the monster, then laughs hysterically at Bob's crispy rings comment.

"Get away from her!" Rachel cries as the patron attacks Henrietta. She rushes to help, swinging her heavy, overstuffed purse at the person!

Sadie fishes about in the kitchen for something, and grabs ahold of a long-handled, heavy ladle, which she proceeds to try and bend around the first tone-infected's neck.

"Aow! This is way too hot, buddy!
Would you BAAM please BAAM leave me BAAM alone?"

Ruben recoils as the brute hits him with his fist. He steps back, seeing the others are hitting at the creatures.

He finds a chair some distance away and frantically puts his skates on, predicting he'll need the speed to get out of this nightmare in one piece.

"Fuck off, jackass! Henrietta shrieks as she fires her pistol again at the creepy thing, ignoring any scratches as the adrenaline pulses through her body.

Henrietta lets out a whoop and a holler both of which sound hysterical as she makes a bee-line to the employee only door. Her skates slip over blood and gore but she's a good skater and manages to avoid landing on her ass as she closes in on that beautiful door....

"Nice one Lady Henrietta! Go go go!" he hastens to skate after her. He takes out his Mace spray.

Out of breath, Bob approach the door from the hinge side.

"Ruben, I'll open the door. If you see anything move behind it, spray it as much as you can."

He stretches out his arm, puts his hand on the handle and tries to open the door.

The Tone grows quieter in the office corridor, letting you clear your heads for a bit. Two doors are on either side: the Office and the Sound Booth. The Sound Booth Door is currently padlocked shut... clearly intentionally so, but very poorly done.

Rachel hustles after the group, huffing and puffing as they make it to the quieter corridor. She leans against the wall, catching her breath after the brief but furious fight!

"Christ!" Henrietta bends over, hands on her knees, and gulps air as she tries to catch her breath. As she regains a smidgeon of composure, she glances at the two doors.

"Which door, guys? Looks like a pretty shabby padlock."

Bob enters the corridor, visibly tired.
"If the Sound Booth is padlocked from outside, we can hope there won't be anyone inside."
Raising his head, "Do you think the office and the sound booth are insulated from the music? I almost can't hear it anymore"

Moving in front of the two doors, Bob shouts.
"HELLO? ANY NORMAL HUMAN HERE?"

"Sound booth, man!! This freaky music thing must be coming from there!"
He tries to kick the padlock with his rollerskate-clad foot, hitting it violently to break it open.

The lock snaps when Ruben kicks the door, but before he can enter, he's interrupted by the office door opening, and the faint click of a revolver. Peering out of the office is a guy you all... kinda know but more in the way that you know of rather than ever having interacted with him.

It's the owner of Metroskate West, Mr. Dirk Trotter.
He aims the gun at you all, but clearly isn't very experienced with it and doesn't know who to aim at, so he keeps swiveling around.
" You're human? "

"More human than... whatever is going on out there. That's for damn sure."

Nodding at Sadie Henrietta replies, "Yeah, we're human, are you?"

Then starts to laugh hysterically again. She's on the very edge of completely losing her shit.

Dirk still regards you all with caution. "That I am. You're not working with him, are you? I never should've hired him in the first place..."

He eyes the broken lock on the sound room door. "I swear, if one of you starts playing one more goddamn thing... "

He has the look of a very overworked man whose nerves are not so much 'frayed' as 'holding on by a single strand'. But other than that, completely normal. Slightly balding. A moustache that looks like a graying mouse on his upper lip. Khaki suit and blue-striped business tie.

"Whose him? The DJ? Hell no. We came for a good time and instead ... all ... all that.."

Her wild eyes dart around and her hands flap everywhere.

He lowers his shades and widens his eyes to unprecedented stretch levels.
"What are you sayin', man? You hired a crazy motherfuckin' zombielord DJ?? Who's in there?"

"Not intentionally!" Dirk replies defensively. "He fucks around with radios and shit at home and he came in saying he had a new track for me. How was I supposed to guess it was some fucked up mind control bullshit?"
He waves towards the office door. "All I wanted was to file a little paperwork and go home early! And instead that fucking music track turns all my customers into flesh-eating zombies and I have to lock myself in here!"

"Are you the one who locked the sound room? We just want to stop the music and go home."
Suspicious, Bob crosses his arms. "Anything else we should know while we're at it? Don't you want to admit it's an elaborate advertising campaign for god knows which new VR system?"

"Go for it! You're young. I couldn't get the lock off myself." Dirk certainly isn't the most... imposing of men, that's for sure. He trails off. "Huh... a VR arcade was on my list of investments... I might have to look into that a bit further..." but that's more him just spacing out.

"Come on. Let's go in there and stop all this madness," Rachel say, voice shaking. "I just want to go home..."

"Me too, Rachel. Me too! Ok let's go." Henrietta makes sure to stay behind Rachel and follows the girl in, pistol at the ready, wide-eyed and petrified.

Pushing open the door to the sound room reveals a 16-channel mixing board haphazardly connected to a few tapes decks and CD players. A bright yellow Walkman is connected to one of the channels, and the audio is peaking.

Bob cautiously enters the room and approaches the mixing board precautiously.
"Well, I guess it ends there?" he says hesitantly, pushing the stop button on the Walkman.

The second the music ceases, so does all the motion outside the booth (there is a window where you can see out into the rink.) All the skaters stop dead in their tracks, staring up at the disco ball in the center of the room. And they all begin to scream, blood erupting from their mouths. Until it sounds like they're all producing a Tone of their own.

... well. Stopping the Walkman certainly ended the Tone playing.
Though it's debatable if this is an improvement.

You suddenly remember part of the Specimen Log you picked up a while back.

"Oh shit. That didn't work too well." he says taking in the spectacle.


He snaps of of it, turns to his companions.
"OK... plan B. Do we have a plan B? Ruben says, getthefuckouttahere sounds like a good plan B?"

"Oh yeah, this is not really what I had in mind when I read feedback loop." say Bob with a sheepish smile.
"Never mind, I guess the show must go on." he adds while pressing the play button, restarting the music.

"Ruben, I'm all for getthefuckouttahere but the doors are locked. I assume the progenitor spoken of in the log would be the famed DJ?"

"Me too or we're gonna die in a dive skating rink."

Staring at the skaters and the change that comes over them, Henrietta's teeth feel like they will chatter with fear if she doesn't shift her already overloaded mind to something else.

"How do we break through that door though?"

"I dunno... we... we shoot 'em open! We ram 'em open, with... anything. Fire extinguishers... This joint's got to have fire extinguishers, right?" he says agitated, looking around.

The sound booth gives you a view outside to the rink. You're interrupted by the door of the laser maze across the way swinging open as a man storms out, swearing. He's a scrawny man, wearing a blood-spattered hoodie and black ripped jeans, and completely decked out in glow sticks and extremely cheap looking shutter shade sunglasses that it looks like he stole from the gift shop. Even from here you can see the crazed look in his eyes. He carries a boombox on one hand and appears to be heading for the sound booth. That would be the DJ.

He spots you all crowded into the booth from the outside, and immediately turns and flees back through the doors of the maze.

"There he is! We have to stop him!" Rachel cries. She waits to let some of her braver companions lead the way, however.

"Right! We need to get that boom box or wreck it or something!"

She too looks to the others to lead as her fear has incapacitated her, visions of twisted bloody limbs, slippery brain matter and cries of agony invade her senses.

"Let's ask Mr. Manager about this laser maze before rushing head first into a trap?" asks Bob, uncertain.
Putting words into action, he leaves the soundbooth for the corridor and asks Dirk if there is anything to know about the arcade and the hidden maze area.

"It's Alien Invasion themed." Dirk offers weakly. He draws a crude picture on a sheet of paper from his office.
There's a Briefing Room , the Vesting Room where we keep all the Laser Pistols and other equipment. I don't know if the vests will be of any help, but they're probably... a little better for taking a hit if he gets violent. And then there's the arena itself. I guess that would the best place for him to be hiding, just because it's the hardest place to navigate with all the mirrors..."

"Thanks, Mr. Manager."
Then, turning to the tired group that was still in the soundbooth, "Let's roll, but discreetly? The faster we do this, the faster we'll be home."

"Where we going again, Bob? Sorry, I, hell I'm a mess. I don't mind telling you I'm a little scared. I mean I've been studying crazy shit for years but I think a part of me never really believed in it."

When Bob mentions home, Henrietta says, "Amen to that!"

"We get in that damn maze, get that damn DJ, smash that damn boombox - that's what we do, people!"

He leads the way around the rink towards the maze entrance, stopping to collect the fire extinguisher he spotted on the wall.

"We should probably hurry, seeing them all skating as a single entity creeps me out." says Bob, uneasy.

"Agreed," Rachel says, sneaking along with the group as fast as she can.

"Suit yourself," she says to Dirk.

To the others, she says, "Well, they don't seem to be interested in us anymore. Let's skiddaddle."

You stumble into the entrance of the Laser Tag Arena.
The entire attraction is Alien Invasion themed. First, it opens into a briefing room, where a TV flickers to life. A computer-toned voice reads out a script about alien invasions and 'humanity's last hope', and 'the war of the future is fought with lasers', all accompanied by a poorly edited slideshow of space warfare.

The next room is the Vesting Room, filled with about 20 laser tag vests with the laser pistols attached. It then leads into the Arena itself. You can hear the sound of DJ Corbin's beatbox blasting away on the other side of the door.

Sadie snatches a vest, wielding the pistol as a makeshift club.

Henrietta rifles through the vests and pistols and picks what she deems might offer her the best chance at surviving.

Ok. I'm ready.

"Way to go!" he says donning a vest and getting one of the laser guns.

Striking an action pose as if in a really bad action movie, he grins next to the door. "Crimes against music. Guilty as fuck. Let's go terminate that zombie-making sonofabitch. "

Rachel follows the others' lead, donning a vest and grabbing a pistol. "R-ready," she stammers nervously.

Bob shivers while he equips his vest.
"It seems like we are really doing this... Good luck to us, I guess?" he adds, taking his pistol in hand.

"Here goes!" he says pushing the entrance to the maze and stepping in.

"I think one of us needs to guard the door in case the mofo find his way back here?" he whispers to the others.
"Any takers?"

"Good idea man!
I can stay behind if no one wants to." he says looking at the girls.

"I sure as hell don't. But Bob, please be careful." Pistol drawn and ready to kill some zombies, she follows the others.

The Laser Arena doors slide open in a flood of artifical fog and laser lights. It's dark as hell, and bathed almost entirely in smoke and neon light fill the space. The Tone resonates warm and full. You feel happy. You want to fall asleep here.
Corbin is perched in the upper levels of the arena, sitting atop one of the guardrails with the boombox still on his shoulder, the Tone emanating from it. He lifts those tacky shutter shades up to give you all an accusing glare with bloodshot eyes.
"Why're y'all coming to kill the vibe?" He growls accusingly. A few figures shift in the shadows behind him.

"Damn... this is so... cozy and happy... TOO happy!" Ruben tries to put his headphones on and to play music from his own phone at full blast, in an attempt to drown the hypnotic Tone forcing him to be happy.

The music flows through your headphones, muffling the tone, and you definitely feel different from that. Mostly it just grants clarity. The gore and the lights seem less intense. Since you and the rest of the players haven't been in the Metroskate as long, the Tone doesn't have as much of a grasp over you as it does any other patrons. Covering it up with new music makes you feel the most yourself that you have in a hot minute.

"Hey guys! You should try this!" he says pointing at his headphones. "I feel much better not hearing that crap!"

Ruben goes into the maze, laser gun at the ready. He tries to focus on finding a path towards where he has seen or heard the crazed DJ...

"Where can I find some of those?" Henrietta asks or rather pleads. "There's too much smoke in here. Will it help with that?

But her rising panic is grappling with a feeling of warmth and happiness and a pleasant fatigue.

"No!" she suddenly blurts out. "I know what's happening here. That music is drugging me. Stop it! Just stop it!" She covers an ear with a hand, the other one wants to do the same but she's holding the pistol.

Ruben jolts at the sudden apparition. "Whoa! You're invading my personal space!"

"Oh, God... His eyes!" Rachel gasps.

"That's all wrong!" Henrietta whines as she sees the DJ Gumby stretch impossibly. "You're NOT funny!"

"Of course, it couldn't be fireflies. I won't let disco bats kill me after everything I've been through tonight!" thinks Bob, readying his pistol.
"Laser gun against laser bats? I hope it will work"

"Oh, boy... what a cute couple."

Rachel begins to breathe rapidly as she grips her laser pistol.

"What the ...."

Henrietta raises her pistol, albeit with a shaky hand, and squeezes the trigger.

"OMG die already and let us go free."

The DJ goes flying backwards from Henrietta's pistol, but gets up with a growl. Blood drips from the gunshot wound on his shoulder. It has a rainbow sheen to it, like oil on water. He hits the volume button. His boombox, amplified by the Tone, fires off glowing wave of sound at Henrietta in retaliation.

His girlfriend jumps down from the walkway and takes a swing with her machete at Ruben.

A few of the vines slither down and try to restrain Rachel.

"Eek! No, no, get them off me!" Rachel shrieks as the vines wrap themselves around her!

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he says dodging the machete, "You're gonna hurt someone if you're not careful!"

He grabs the fire extinguisher he had picked up and tries to ram it in the crazed machete girl's face. "Like this!"

Bob focus and tries to shoot down the bats.
His shots are successful, but due to the loud music, the lights and his heart pumped with adrenaline, he can't really tell if any are left.

Henrietta tries to cover her ears comically with one hand since her pistol is in the other. The DJ shooting that ray of sound hurt the girl's ears and made her feel funny. Still, she manages to squeeze off a shot at him.

Rachel continues to scream and struggle!

"Aghhhhh! Rachek screams. We have t .... get ... that ... boombox.... aghhh" Henrietta screams.

Ruben tries his best impression of a karate kick, targeting the boom box and hoping to smash its speakers to silence it.
"Wooo-eeeeeeeeeee!"

Reuben's kick connects with the boombox, sending it crashing to the ground. It explodes with a crackle, and a burst of light. The tone sputters. The DJ reels backwards, shrieking. It's like whatever power has been pulsing through the beatbox is now being channeled into him, and him alone, and as you watch, his head begins to pulse with light, slowly ballooning outwards.

The Vines release Rachel, retreating. The bats scatter to retreat back into the cieling, retreating away from Bob. The DJ's girlfriend, out of the influence of the Tone, drops like a ragdoll.

You can just hear confused voices outside, and then increasing panic as people come back to their senses and realize exactly what's been happening to them.

The DJ claws at his face, screaming, his voice now replaced with the Tone. But that's far too much power to be contained in one person, not without some kind of conduit.

The flesh starts to crack, bleeding a blinding light and deafening sound, accompanied by sprays of blood.
It's gonna blow.
On 3...

You should probably run.

His grin for the destroyed boombox vanishes as he sees the DJ head about to burst!
"SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT!"

"Wait for me!" Rachel shrieks as she runs!

Rachel stumbles as a massive tremor shakes the very foundations of the Metroskate. Ruben and Henrietta reach the Exit of the Laser Tag arena first, and burst back out into the skating ring. It's complete and utter pandemonium, people running back and forth, clawing at their eyes and screaming, at how they and their surroundings are covered in blood. People start swarming towards the exits.

2...

"What the HELL. We are back in the rink!" The sights and sounds are terrifying and the confusion in the rink is adding to hers.

"What do we do now?" she shrieks at Ruben.

"We run for the doors!" he shouts before bolting.

He will run for the locked entrance doors and will try to smash the lock mechanism hitting it hard repeatedly with his trusted fire extinguisher.

"OPEN...[smash!]...YOU...[smash!]...GODDAMN..[smash!]....LOCK....[smash!]...OPEN!!"

The lock breaks and the doors swing open. The crowd of people pushing behind you all shove you out of the doors. Just as you were welcomed to the Metroskate with a blaze of lasers, your exit is now lined with the blaring of sirens and flashes of red and blue.

You all are ushered away from the building, to what is deemed a safe distance.
As you turn and watch the building...
1...

A screech like microphone feedback rings through the air. A bright burst of light erupts from inside the Metroskate, shattering the windows, though thankfully nothing else comes crawling out.
The Tone dissipates like a low hum on the night air, into silence.

He drops on the ground, witnessing the spectacle. The Tone being silenced is a relief, as the pressure on Ruben's brain finally relents.

"Hot damn, that was some awful sound..." he comments massaging his ears.
"Ugh... Do y'all think the brains of that crazy DJ are wallpapering the whole place, in there?..."

Henrietta shields her eyes but the relief her ears feel is almost palpable and mitigates the blinding light somewhat.

"I hope so, Ruben. I really do."

Henrietta says goodbye so she can go home and sleep it off, thankful that she made it out alive and vowing never to go to Metroskate or any skating rink ever again.

Ruben makes himself scarce as the police start questioning survivors. With his line of business -and due to certain possessions he carries on him- he has to be super careful.

He says goodbye to his companions and disappears, blending in the city streets...