fandomhigh | Detention, 02/11

The Danger Room is set up to look like an ordinary classroom today, with slightly squeaky desks arranged in a semicircle, alphabets of many nations bordering the walls, and a flag hanging above the blackboard at the front of the room. The air smells, although not unpleasantly, of chalkdust and stale cafeteria food. In a room off to the side that resembles a formal Victorian dining room, there are a table, chairs and a sideboard from which students will take their lunch, though no food is visible at first.

The names of the students with detention are written on the chalkboard in Dream's flowing hand. He crosses each name off as the student enters:

~~John Crichton~~
~~Hamlet Dane, Jr.~~
Lily Evans
~~Janet Fraiser~~
Yuffie Kisagari
~~Nadia Santos~~
Kristy Thomas

Dream stands before the assembled students in his formal robes.

"Hello. I trust you all know why you are here.

I have been asked to furnish activities, and have done so. Likewise your lunch will be provided. Should all go well, I anticipate releasing you well in time for your evening meal. Should all not go well, you may learn what imprisonment truly is."

"Now, sign in and begin your assigned activities."

At 12:30 p.m. FHT, Dream briefly enters the lunchroom. When he leaves, a banquet has been arranged. Students may now eat, should they want to.

At 7 p.m. FHT, he rouses the sleepers and sends all of the students out the door.

[OOC note: Dream-mun has left the building for the night. I'll try to wrap these threads tomorrow. Also, minimal/handwaved participation on some activities is fine for those of you who might sign in late.]

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"Lie down," Dream commands, gesturing Nadia and John to two small cots in the lunchroom that had gone unnoticed most of the day, or that have possibly just appeared.

His dark eyes flash with anger.

John decides now is not the time to point out that the cots look uncomfortable.

So he follows directions and lays down.

Dream waits until Crichton is as comfortable as he is going to get before speaking. "The first time I ran detention, I did this for the entire day, Mr. Crichton. It was found mroe than usually unpleasant."

He concentrates, willing John to fall asleep and to find himself in his worst nightmare. Then he reconsiders. Really, John had only followed Nadia's lead. And mimicry had also landed him in detention to start with.

He might benefit from a dream about what happens to people who mold themselves after the wrong sources of inspiration. This, then, is what John shall dream until the end of detention.

John falls asleep quickly. Funny that.

He starts to dream and it's not about being a circus ringleader either. Nope, this time it's something different. He's somewhere dim and alone. There's a television showing some old infomercial and he can see himself on a raggedy couch.

Alone. That's...not right. He hates being alone. Something's up here. He squirms in his sleep and continues dreaming.

Deliberately, Dream raises the volume on the TV. The message -- something about Ginsu knives that slice and dice -- is now very loud and very compelling.

As the dream continues, the volume on the tv increases, blaring and John sees himself wincing and jotting down the telephone number. Odd, he hates infomercials and doesn't need Ginsu knives. Normally, he'd go call a friend but, for some reason, he doesn't here.

He's still wearing his stupid paper hat from work and has no energy to pull it off. As the dream become clearer, he remembers. He remembers being obnoxious and thinking himself funny while he was goaded on.

And now he's alone and working at some fast food shop and ordering Ginsu knives for fun.

This is not cool.

John might notice his uniform, and, in fact, the air around him are fragant with the scent of french fries and hamburgers.

Perhaps he's hungry?

And now he's hungry. So, he gets up and walks into the kitchen area, searching for something to eat.

He'd brought some leftover burgers and fries home from work with him. Lots of leftovers. Greasy and fattening. Oh well. You only live once.

He puts a burger and some fries on a plate and heads back into the living area. There's an infomercial about flowery clothing on now.

John is bored. And still alone.

Perhaps John's wardrobe is insufficiently floral.

Also, there's someone there now, sitting in a La-Z-Boy recliner. Someone he loves very much and would never have expected to see in this setting.

John looks over at the recliner and frowns.

"Aeryn? Thought you left."

Aeryn opens her mouth as if to speak, but it is Dream's voice that comes out of her mouth. "Detention is over, John. You may leave."

Nadia flinches and immediately clams up.

Mental note: impulse to be bad is not something to follow.

She meekly goes over to lay down, wondering what on earth is going to happen when she does. Over all, it doesn't seem like that terrible a punishment.

She could do with a nap. . . .

"Close your eyes, Miss Santos. Do you always give in to your every whim?"

He concentrated; she liked to follow her impulses, did she? That was also a risky path. She would therefore have a dream about what happened to people who acted without thinking, who leapt before looking and crossed the street with no regard for oncoming traffic.

This si what she will ddream about until detention ends.

Nadia closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, she's back in the grey city under the eerie red sun. The streets are empty, but she can hear people, talking, fighting, moaning, behind the doors and the abandoned cars. She shivers and starts walking down the middle of the street.

One abandoned car is less old and rusty than the others. In fact, it is glistening with newness, a perfect red sportscar, completely unmarked by its time on the streets.

If Nadia came closer, she might notice that there are keys in the ignition.

Nadia does come closer. She runs a hand along the hood of the car and whistles softly. "Bello," She tries the door and finds it unlocked. She smiles, climbs into the driver's seat, and turns the key.

Vroom, vroom. The motor starts smoothly, and a path for the car through the cluttered streets is clear.

Nadia's smile becomes a grin. Not only will this get her out of this creepy city and away from the sun, but it'll be fun to boot.

She grips the steering wheel and leans back as she stomps down on the accelerator.

The accelorator works perfectly.

So does the steering wheel.

The brakes do not.

It takes awhile for Nadia to notice this. It's not until she spots three women, dressed in black, crossing the street ahead of her that she tries the breaks.

Oh govno!

She spins the wheel and tries to pull a u-turn before she hits them.

The rapid attempt to turn flips the car.

Oops.

In whatever state she is after the crash, Nadia can still dimly hear the professor's voice. "Detention is over, Miss Santos. You may leave."

Detention, 02/11

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