I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

[checkingin]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: May 7th
What: Feed me, Seymour

ARRIVAL.

you wake up when you hit the floor in a dark room, and the air is knocked out of your lungs. the carpet is threadbare, worn with use, kind of dusty. and you're not the first person to endure this crash landing. nor will you be the last.

once your vision rights itself, you can see the well-lit hallway through the doorjam straight ahead of you. not to say there’s monsters in the shadows, but something propels you towards that door and out into the bright hallway beyond.

and once outside your room, you can hear it: the steady thrum of rain outside.

MAIN LOBBY.

there's a staircase at the end of the lengthy hallway you tumble out of. grab your suitcase and follow the dull green exit signs on the ceiling until you reach the disappointingly bland stairs that lead you down to the ornate old fashion hotel lobby.

to your left is an richly crackling, rather excessively smoking fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, all three of them thrown wide open and welcoming. and outside the few (curtained, permanently dark) windows is the continually steady hiss of rain. once you leave the hallway you wake up in, you won't be able to return.

welcome to the hotel.

FRONT DESK.

though there is a bell and a plaque designating the desk to be the main desk, the customer service desk, there are currently no staff members behind it. none shall answer your calls, either. there is, however, a pad of paper and a pen neatly aligned with the desk edge. you know. for notes.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of alice in wonderland will be playing on loop. at the back of the room, between the neat rows of fold out chairs, mounted on a wobbly table is the old-timey projector, and mounted on the walls are some rather old speakers that warble out "terrifying" old music.

along the curtained windows is another long table, with a large bowl of chipotle cheese popcorn corn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, with a few cups and some old looking packages of apple cider mix.

DINING HALL.

is tragically, painfully empty.

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently open, and the grand doors unlocked.

there is no main door leading to the outside, good luck trying to find one.

the doors to the courtyard are unlocked.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors one and two. while there is an open elevator in the main lobby, and the buttons light up inside, the doors will not close. all in all, you'll be better off taking the stairs.

while they're the same stairs you undoubtedly came down to get to the lobby, the door to the endless hall everyone woke up in will not reappear between the main floor and the subsequent residential halls.

there are twenty rooms per floor. feel free to get to know your surroundings; or your neighbors as they trickle in around you.

EXISTING GUESTS.

are you dreaming of omlettes and regretting complaining about the constant pancakes and weak ass coffee yet?

Comments

Room

[triplett]

A tablet inside his open suitcase caught his attention. No password protection, no internet just some in-house network. He wasn’t as tech savvy as Skye or Fitz but Trip could hold his own. It was time to make contact with somebody. He’d been down to the lobby and back with no direction or insight as to where he was.

There was a slight bounce in the video feed from him taking a seat on the bed before his hands steadied the tablet so his face was centered on the screen. His brow had been knit together in concentration but relaxed at seeing himself. It was the most calm he appeared since his opening his eyes.

“I’m still trying to figure out if this some kind of game that Hydra’s playin’, or if I somehow ended up on an episode of the Twilight Zone.” He sarcastically chuckled toward the end. His face cantered in the video for a moment as he rotated his left shoulder just out of frame. There was stiffness in his shoulder from where he’d been shot just before San Juan.

The hint of a smile on his lips faded. “It’s just…” He looked around the room briefly before returning his gaze to the tablet in his grip. “…I’ve never seen this place before and the only thing I remember before ending up here…”

His eyes fell away in thought at the last words he uttered and the expression on his face became downcast. The memory of being too late to save Skye and leaving the team behind played in his mind again, causing his eyelids to shut tight. “I don’t get any of this.”

He shook his head and looked back into the tablet, proffering a determined look. “Look, if anyone watching this knows me--I’m in room 104. If you don’t find me there then it’s because I headed back to the lobby to get some answers. Leave me a message. Let me know you’re out there. …Triplett out.”

With that, he ended the feed and exited out of the network. If whoever was on the other end was smart enough to create this elaborate scheme then they already knew his room number. And at this point, Trip would even welcome an enemy just to get some answers. What could they do? Kill him again?

[avengeme]

Wow. This was the last thing he expected to see when he checked the network. He could feel his heart fall. He had mourned him. They all had. Hell, Coulson had to break the news to Trip's mom himself. He held her while she cried. It was barely a month ago to him.

His reaction was immediate. He had to be sure this was Trip and not a horrible joke. He grabbed the keys to his room and marched outside. Trip was only a few rooms down from him so it wasn't long before he was able to knock and wait. The agent will be treated to a stern look from the director when he opens the door.

"I'm going to be really upset if you're not the real deal."

[triplett]

"Coulson! ...Man, is it good to see you!" His boss was immediately greeted on sight. It wasn't the most tactically accurate thing to do but Trip wasn't in the right frame of mind. However, he also wasn't completely blind to the man in front of him possibly being a Hydra operative. He moved back enough for 'Coulson' to enter and continued talking. "What is this place? All I remember is the chamber and Skye--"

His heart lurched almost as if stopping Antoine from getting ahead of himself. There were two easy observations to make of the man with him; he arrived soon after his feed and wasn't expecting to see him. Either this was a mission gone sideways or Hydra at work. So many things still didn't make sense. One thing was certain, if the man before him was Hydra then they were eerily uncanny.

The Coulson that Trip knew would be careful and make sure the man was who he said he was before any show of weakness (handshake/talk of current plans). Antoine didn't think he was dead given the condition of his injuries. At seeing Coulson, he figured his memories were just missing. Fierce yet fearful eyes watched the SHIELD director intently. "Sir, I need answers so just tell me what it is you need from me to get them."

[avengeme]

With those opening words, Trip had pretty much solidified his identity to Coulson. Though there was the risk that Raina had spilled the beans to HYDRA agents so, just to be safe, he asked as he stepped inside.

"What have we been working on?" He meant the 21st century howling commandos kit Trip and Fitz had been building for him. He kept himself guarded for now just in case this was all going to turn out to be a sham or another one of the hotel's new tricks.

[triplett]

Even under the circumstances, Trip couldn't help but give at least a little proud smile as he answered. "You mean the modern versions of the Howling Commandos gadgets, Sir?" A beat skipped not long enough for Coulson to respond before Trip continued. "Don't tell me you brought them here! Is Fitz--" Antoine recognized he was getting ahead of himself and stopped. His excited state simmered until his boss answered a question from him.

"Speaking of.. You once asked me if I brought a noisemaker. What was my answer?" The real Coulson would remember. It had been a mission with just the two of them, no intelligence worth having for Hydra. Trip didn't expect a word for word answer but any indication it was the man he'd been on the mission with.

[avengeme]

The tension in Coulson's shoulders immediately faded at the answer. He raised his eyebrows at the question then answered with a slight quirk in the corner of his mouth. His tone is serious but he's definitely loosening up a little. "You're not getting me to repeat that word for word. It's bad enough I have to say the word 'funk'."

God, Coulson had missed the man, jokes and all. Having him brought here was both a blessing and a slap to the face.

[triplett]

That was it. Trip closed in and wrapped his arms around his boss. It wasn't long, if that made the moment less awkward for Coulson. Antoine couldn't help it. Not only did he find a familiar face but some proof that San Juan wasn't as bad as he'd feared. A few firm pats and they were apart again.

"It's good to see you, Sir. Is the rest of the team here? How about Skye? Did everyone make it out okay?"

If it hadn't been obvious to Coulson before that he was the first friendly face Trip had found, it had to be now.

[64th]

Cashmere's not real impressed with how the day is shaping up. There aren't any familiar faces among the new arrivals and the only food to be found was popcorn covered in some sort of miserable seasoning. She'd eaten enough to take the edge off her hunger before returning to her room to sulk, wondering if maybe the popcorn was a sign things would return to normal soon. Normal for the hotel, anyway.

A new neighbor is interesting enough to get her back out of her room. She doesn't have answers but she's willing to share what she knows. "Hey," she calls through the door, knocking in case he somehow missed the hey was directed at him. "You okay in there?"

[triplett]

The voice wasn't familiar but it didn't sound threatening. Trip remained on edge enough to keep him careful. He already made a number of mistakes since waking up in this game. Whoever was on the other side would see the door open but no one on the other side immediately. It seemed silly to clear the door first for anyone who didn't have combat experience. He could quickly answer the demise of looking through a peephole or standing in the doorway but only after assessing the scene first.

"Hey..." he greeted back cautiously. She was attractive and noticeable. He definitely hadn't seen her before. "What is this place?" The question came as an answer to hers. If the woman wanted to know how he was, Trip was mostly confused and disoriented. He wasn't in the way of her entering in the room if she wished though he didn't give a formal invitation. It wasn't like him to be less than cordial with someone who wasn't threatening but this wasn't an every day occurrence.

[64th]

"I wish I knew," she shrugs. "I've been here a few months and still haven't figured out where we are or why we're here. Or how to get out." He'll get used to it. She doesn't move to enter his room but does peek around him to see if there's any evidence that he's got anything interesting in his possession. It looks mostly the same as her's, save all the clutter she's collected.

"Anyway. I'm Cashmere, I'm in 103." And she's here to check out what kind of person she's going to be living next to.

[triplett]

Months? A few months? His face displayed the disbelief he felt. She wasn't much help but her answer was something. And she didn't give the impression of being an enemy.

On his bed was the suitcase opened and bag of crackers shared space with a small stack of photographs on the top of his clothing. The tablet was on the bed next to the piece of luggage. Trip followed her eyes in the room then returned to look at them. "Antoine Triplett." His friends referred to him by a different name but he had yet to fully establish if that was the right category to put her in. She sent up a flag by peeking in his room but he couldn't quite call it a red one.

He'd cut her off if she made a bee line to his luggage. If Cashmere was hungry, that was fine, but he wasn't ready to share familiar faces with her. Then again... What if she recognized some of the faces from around the hotel? No. He couldn't take the chance and put anyone in danger. She could be a scout for Hydra, sent to gather intelligence. He didn't let his doubts show on his features but cooly strolled to his suitcase--pulling out the bag of crackers before closing the luggage shut.

"Was there someone in this room before me?" he casually asked, doing his own investigating. Little did he know the starvation everyone had been through. Hunger wasn't on his mind but snacking gave him a less threatening appearance. He wasn't ready to smile just yet since she hadn't.

[64th]

Somebody's got to be the bearer of bad news, so it might as well be her. She's glad he's not running around losing his mind like some people do - like she did - when they arrive. Her eyes follow him, and she wonders what he's trying to hide. Not that she can blame him for being cautious. She's plenty paranoid all on her own. She could empathize with hiding the photographs. She's got a single photo of her brother and it feels too personal to share with strangers.

The crackers have her attention, though. She'd had a stockpile of leftover breakfast bits and Easter candy but that's gone now. He probably shouldn't go waving his snacks around the hotel - at the very least somebody will probably try to guilt him into giving his crackers to a kid.

"Yeah," she nods. "There's been some people who've disappeared since I got here. Somebody had your room when we arrived but... that's been a while." But about those crackers... "did your suitcase come with food in it?"

[triplett]

She must have missed his mad dash downstairs and looking like a lost puppy once down at the lobby. Not that he had known anything she was thinking. Trip narrowed down what Cashmere was looking at before she got around to asking about food. "If you can call some bland crackers food, yeah."

He didn't miss what she uttered of people disappearing and her use of 'we' but she gave him insight on something that proved this wasn't a wayward dream. "Want some?" Trip offered and made it clear she was allowed in. "My friends call me Trip." He felt the need to be friendlier with how hesitant she appeared. Hydra wouldn't want to eat anything he had. In fact, only until the moment he attempted to share did it occur to him about questioning the package.

"Most the stuff in the suitcase mine. I can't say I've ever packed crackers before though."

lobby work?

[technologist]

Fitz bypasses the cider packets the first time around. He's still got some scraps of food from the hotel's previous acts of generosity, and there are probably people who need them more — and, of course, they aren't actually food. About thirty minutes after the new arrivals have trickled out of the lobby, however, he wanders back downstairs with the intent of investigating what's been left in their wake.

Needless to say, he isn't expecting to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure near the front desk as he leaves the stairwell. Fitz stops in his tracks, grip going tight on the tablet in his hands.

He can't be absolutely positive, not until the man turns around. Still, he's startled enough to voice his assumption, voice equal parts uncertain and hopeful. "Trip?"

For you? OF COURSE!

[triplett]

The strangeness started to feel like a nightmare. People around but no staff and no exit to this antiquated hotel. The green ...woman from before had ventured out to the courtyard. Trip couldn't quite categorize her as a familiar face, just a noticeable one. He wasn't in search for people anymore as he was for more answers (and maybe something to eat with the crackers in his suitcase). Wasn't it always the case that the minute you were no longer looking for something, it turned up?

"Fitz?!" There was no mistaking that Scottish voice even the accent didn't quite come out by saying his name. "What're you--Where are we?" he immediately asked and stumbled with questions. Trip didn't know where to start. If this was Hydra trying to get information from him, they were upping their ante. Yet instincts were telling him he was genuinely face to face with his teammate. "I woke up on the floor of a room and haven't seen anyone else."

He didn't bring up just yet what his last memory was before finding himself on that threadbare carpet. First things first.

[hacker]

If Clarke had her way, Skye wouldn't even be on her feet right now. But she has to know if it's true.

When she sees Trip's broadcast, ice courses through her veins, a paralytic fear that works to still her in Fitz's bed for too long. Without a doubt, though, he or Coulson will be in to check in on her soon, particularly if they've already seen Trip's video. She pulls herself out of bed, wincing through the pain of cracked ribs and pulling a jacket loosely on over her bruised arms.

She looks thin. Pale. Gaunt. Injury on top of starvation doesn't do her any favors, and her hair looks about as unkempt as one might expect from bed rest, but she's making her way down the hall to 104 all the same. She raises her hand to knock on the door, notes the bruises that still pepper her knuckles, and tucks her hands instead into her jacket pockets.

Two taps on the base of the door with her boot serve as a knock.

Skye's ears must have been burning...

[triplett]

It was different for him being told that Skye had made it after all. Trip didn't focus on the team mourning his death or some of the aftermath that followed San Juan. In fact, very little had registered after hearing his friend hadn't died how he thought. The same could probably be said about seeing him and hopefully it was understood when Trip charged out to find her. Only, she wasn't in the room he'd been told about.

Coulson would find her and tell her. Or Fitz. Maybe even his neighbor. Antoine decided to stay put and wait. What else did he have to do? He didn't know the hotel like the rest of them. No longer did he care about where they were and how they'd gotten there. All Trip desperately wanted was to have some other image in his mind other than failing Skye. Maybe after reuniting with her, it would strike him how hungry everyone else looked.

The door flung open (all tactical caution thrown to the wind) and he stood looking much like the last time she saw him (t-shirt, jeans, boots) minus the bandage on his arm and bleeding through his shirt. And of course, him crumbling apart.

"Aren't you a sight for sore..." he had started to quip through an instant smile at first sight. The grin notably faded as he took in her condition. Thin, pale and looked as if she'd crawled out from under the rock he last saw her covered in. "...eyes. Damn, Girl. What happened? Should you even be on your feet?" Antoine assumed someone had already told her he was back and didn't hesitate to immediately engulf her in an arm (very carefully) to usher her into his room.

At least he had some medical training. It didn't look as if anyone had been tending to her. His heart lurched in every way possible.

as a general rule

[hacker]

The door opens, and her breath leaves her. He's standing there like none of it ever happened, like she hasn't been haunted by his face crumbling in ash for months. Stunned by the sight, she's speechless as he worries over her—how ironic it is to have a dead man fretting that she might not be doing so well.

His touch brings her back to herself, and instead of allowing his steady arm to steer her into his room, she turns to steer herself right into his arms. Forgetting herself, she draws her hands out of her pockets and wraps her arms around him, pulling him in tight and ignoring the squeeze on her ribs, the shortness of breath, the twinge of pain because it all only makes it feel more real, reassures her that he's here. It's not a dream.

"How is this happening?" She finds herself asking, hollow and bewildered. "It's really you."

[triplett]

"Your guess is as good as mine," he answered rather than leave her wondering alone. His hand held the back of her head while his other arm wrapped snug around her. He was careful not to squeeze her, giving her full reign on how close to remain. Trip couldn't help but worry that she'd disappear if he hugged her too tight. It felt surreal no matter what anyone had told him or even with her there in his grasp.

She might have looked worse for wear but it was her scent and her voice. He didn't need to ask her anything to confirm. Hydra could do many things but no one could reproduce that. "You have no idea how good it is to see you." Trip kissed into her hair. It wasn't a typical greeting but this wasn't a typical anything. A low chuckle resonated in his chest. "You know, when I woke up here, I couldn't tell if this was heaven or hell. I'm still not sure but I'll take it as long as you're really here with me."

[hacker]

Grief, distress, and relief all twist together into a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, building in her chest until she's ready to burst. And she does—burst, that is. The faint rattle of picture frames on the walls and furniture on the floors reminds her of why, exactly, she's more certain that it's Hell than Heaven if those are the choices.

The last time it happened near Trip, he was dying. Guilt stops up her throat as she tries, panic mounting, to stop the steady tremor and the associated flashing lights. She pulls back from him reflexively, holding her hands up. Out of her pockets and out from behind his back, it's easy to see the bruising on her palms now. Evidence of the last time she'd tried to 'stop' her powers. It doesn't prevent her from making the same call now, trying to pull it inside, reflecting it back on herself.

She lets out a grunt of pain, the fractures all aggravated by the fresh quake. Looking up at him, searching his eyes, Skye shakes her head. "Hell," she confirms. "If it's anything, it's Hell." Sometimes, she wonders if Fitz might be right, if none of them made it out of the temple. She deserved to go down with it: this was all her fault.

[bettercallit]

It had been a while since Clint had been around SHIELD long enough to cross paths with familiar faces, new and old, but he did recognise this guy. He was good with faces, if not always with names, but he was one of Garret's agents, he was certain of it. Still, it had been a while since he had even seen the senior agent, never mind any at lower levels.

He made the effort to wander the corridors until he reached his room, and then he paused, composing himself, as it had been a rough few weeks and he was more than feeling it with all the new arrivals.

He knocked. And waited.

[triplett]

Tactically opening the door at this point seemed like an exercise in futility. It wasn't that Trip thought he was better off dead, he simply didn't see him lucking out and getting out of this nightmare any time soon. Yet he still tried not showing his frustration so easily. He stood in the opened doorway with a casual look until realizing who had knocked. "Agent Barton!"

The name was called excitedly though observing the man made Trip want to wince internally. Apparently it wasn't just Skye who was worse for wear. He decided to follow through with his initial thought. "Man, are you a sight for sore eyes, Sir! Nothing like the company of an Avenger to give a lowly SHIELD agent some hope." The legendary Hawkeye was met with exuberance and a grin to rival that of a preteen meeting Taylor Swift.

He quickly moved out of the door way to let the man in.

[bettercallit]

It was habits of old that saw him sparing a quick glance this way and that to ensure no one had overheard the excited tone, but for all that, Clint wore a look of slight amusement. He was hardly Tony Stark, but there were a few more people here and there recognising him since New York and he was still adjusting to it.

"Hate to be the one to kick you while you're down, but I'm not sure how much hope I've got to offer. Been here over a month and not getting anywhere fast." He felt bad for breaking it to him, but it would become apparent sooner or later. "And Barton's fine."

With a nod of appreciation, Clint stepped into the room, sliding his hands in his pockets to keep them occupied.

[triplett]

Tony Stark was impressive to an extent as far as Trip was concerned. The man was a legacy, like him--a very known legacy that for all intents and purposes bought his seat with the Avengers. Hawkeye had earned his. As an agent, Barton gave Triplett hope of achieving an attainable goal and not believing only gods or superhuman beings could help save the Earth. "Well, you've survived a month. Still gives me hope," he responded with a half smile.

"One of my neighbor's mentioned people just disappearing. A lot of it sounds like Hydra at work even after talking to someone from another planet in the lobby. All it'd take is the likes of Loki and Hydra joining powers. Who knows who else. The smart move would be to tie up as many soldiers and agents from the opposing team." Little did Trip know that there were enemies among them. He moved to pull out a cider from the mini-fridge and offered it to Barton.

"I've got some crackers too, if you're hungry. Neighbor mentioned the food strike you all have been on. I guess us new additions came with rations."

[bettercallit]

Clint had to give him that one, at least; he knew from first-hand experience that there were worse things than waking up in a strange place with no recollection of arriving there, and with no obvious way out. Everyone was alive and in possession of their own bodies, although things had been taking a toll on people with the lack of food, there was no one attacking them, they had a roof over their heads and were relatively safe. Of course, he would feel ten times better if he had access to a weapon, on the off chance something or someone threatened that.

"Yeah," he agreed, because since hearing about HYDRA making a comeback, the thought had crossed his mind with the things he'd encountered recently. "Couldn't say one way or the other if a known enemy force is at play here, but there's no way I'm letting my guard down for when the inevitable happens." He did hope Loki had nothing to do with it, though, not after what he proved within his power last time around.

"Thanks," he said, as he took the beverage with a nod of appreciation, but he sipped it slowly, not sure how he would handle it without food in his system. "And that's not a bad idea. With more people turning up, it'd be good to have everyone on the same page." He shook his head at the crackers, waving the offer away, "Hold onto 'em."