Trapped in Hell

You wake up in a room, and you're not alone. The last thing you remember is being about to die in some way or another. A man walks in and calmly informs you that you have died, and that this is Hell. He relates the various rooms of the mansion you've woken up in, and walks out the door, locking it behind him. When he leaves, the door disappears, and there are no windows. You don't remember dying, and this seems nothing like Hell- where is the fire, the screaming mob of people?

Just after he leaves, someone finds a small note from the previous occupants of the house. It says,

Dear Reader,

If you can leave the house and make it through all twelve circles of Hell, you'll get another shot at life. We can't tell you anymore, but know that you must trust each other, and that you must all stay alive to make it out. This is Hell.

Signed,
L

The Rooms:

Spoiler

First Floor
The Parlour: It's furnished with expensive looking, old fashioned furniture. There is a fireplace that stays lit no matter what you do, and a bowl of chocolates. There are also paper and pens. It also has the only clock in the house, and it is a huge grandfather clock that has 24 hours on it, rather than the usual twelve. In this way, you can tell night and day.

The Dining Room: There is a table that is set with the same number of places as there are people. Everything seems to be made of glass- even the chairs and table. The walls are all mirrors, and the floor is what looks like burnished silver.

The Kitchen: It contains food and drink in the huge icebox and walk-in pantry, is well stocked with kitchen utensils, a wood-burning stove, and an old-fashioned sink. There is also a huge cabinet filled with liquor and wine, and glasses.

Second Floor
The Bedrooms: Each bedroom has an attached bathroom, and all are on the second floor. There are exactly as many bedrooms as there are people, and each are furnished according to one person's taste. They have closets that are stocked with clothing in each occupant's size and taste. However, they bombard people with their worst fears during the night.

Third Floor
Locked, and unknown.

Character Profile:

Spoiler

CodeSelect all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Time period:[/b]
[b]Method of death:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Brief history of life on Earth/Crimes committed:[/b]
[b]Strengths/Skills:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[b]Possessions: (what you had when you died)[/b]
[b]UFL:[/b]
[b]Worst fears:[/b]

Note: Your character can be from any place (on Earth) and any time period (i.e. a witch from the Salem, 1700s, a bureaucrat from modern times, a teenager on the RMS Titanic). Please refrain from being any well-known people such as, but not limited to Queen Elizabeth I, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Hitler, and etc. However, they have to have committed something bad enough to have landed them in Hell. Also, while magic can exist, no supernatural creatures (i.e. werewolves, fairies, vampires, trolls, goblins, hobbits, etc.) are permitted.

The circles of Hell will be revealed later, when the occupants of the house are about to get out.

People whom I think should join:

Spoiler

@TheWanderingWizard, @AstralHunter, @Avalon, @Rydia, and @Wolfare1

-Reina|Parlour-

I forced my jaw to click shut after the man vanishes into thin air. What was this? I wasn't dead. The last thing I remembered was being at Zac's Christmas party, and now I was dead?

Not possible.

This must have been a prank. That was it. Zac and the rest must have gotten together and put sleeping pills or something in my drink.

I looked around at the rest of the room. There were four other women, besides me, and six men. One of them was a nun. Another of them looked like he belonged on a movie set. He wore some sort of fur cape, and-

Focus.

Where was I? Was this really Hell? Where was the fire, the sulphur, the Devil? I shook my head to clear it and looked for the door. Except there wasn't one.

So I decided to take a look at my companions. As my gaze flicked over each of them, I tried to figure them out. For most of them, I didn't get very far. Their bodies said exactly what was in my head. Disbelief, surprise, horror, and shock were visible on their faces.

One of them got up and took a small piece of paper out of the bowl of chocolates that adorned the table. He read it aloud. "Dear Reader, If you can leave the house and make it through all twelve circles of Hell, you'll get another shot at life. We can't tell you anymore, but know that you must all be alive to make it out. This is Hell. Signed, L."

My mind burnt through the possibilities of who 'L' could be. The most likely person was the previous occupant of the house. But that gave me nothing. Forgetting about who wrote it, I concentrated on the note itself.

Was this really Hell? For one thing, the door had disappeared after the man had left. For another, we had all woken up at the same time. No drug was that perfect. And then, I remembered falling off of the cliff- the plunge into the icy cold waves- and then nothing. It was entirely possible I had drowned. The coolness with which I thought of my own death disturbs me, and I allowed myself to concentrate on the room once more.

The man who had first spoken was speaking. "-introduce ourselves. I'm Jack. Does anyone have any ideas about-"

I cut him off, standing up. My dress is damp, and I'm freezing. "Well, Jack, a pleasure to meet you. You want my name? It's Reina. You want to know what I think? This is Hell. Unless you come from a place where doors disappear into thin air, of course." He started to speak again, but I didn't let him. "If you all want to sit around here, that's fine with me. When something that only exists in peoples' worst nightmares attacks you in the middle of the night, I'll laugh, because I'll be the only one even somewhat prepared." Belatedly, I noticed the gun in his belt. If I could feel the cold, that likely meant I could feel pain, if not die. Not letting it show, I pointed at the grandfather clock behind him that had 24 hours on it, rather than the normal twelve. "It's noon right now. That gives me somewhere around six hours to search."

One of the others smirked at me. "You actually think this is Hell, then? What'd you do to get here, lie to your parents about partying with your friends?"

Not letting it show, I smiled at him. "No, of course not. I killed them." I let that register, and then said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look at the house." If I could find a drink, so much the better. I pushed the door open and stepped out of the parlour in my bare feet, shivering on the cold tile.

Jack Robbins - Death wasn't the end...

Jack didn't know what to make of the girl but he could see a few things first the girl was soaking wet, he could imagine she drowned somehow and in the ocean no less. He let her storm off the girl was clearly a danger if she was able to kill her own parents, clearly a girl he should get to know.

"Well then" he said looking back to the rest of the group, "anyone else want to be forth coming on how the hell they got stuck here in hell?" he asked.

People just stood around, Jack looked from person to person, a nun, a warrior definitely feudal, some tall guy who Jack had the feeling was used to be large and in charge and others. Jack stood there for a few minutes before going for the door only to be stopped by someones voice.

"Oh great one chick leaves and a guy follows probably going to go screw her," someone behind him said.

Jack immediately turned on him heels and looked for who said that then a woman dressed in what seemed like a cowgirl if she decided to wear chaps and look like a damn fool stepped forward.

"Now dear, there should be no sex before marriage," she said Jack noted the gleam in her eye.

"Yeah sure, you idiots stand around and not say a word until after I move, no I ain't going to find her I'm getting out of here!" he said.

It didn't take Jack long to find out where the girl went a door was cracked open but before he knocked or even went in. Jack pulled his jacket and shirt off and took a look at his well muscular chest and saw nothing. No bullet wound, no blood, no nothing it was so odd he remembered being shot, he remembered seeing his own blood and he remembered dying in Elizabeth's arms as she cried over him as he faded away. Death was not the end of his story and Hell was simply another chapter in that story.

Jack put his shirt back on just as the door started to open up and looked at the tall, well legged, girl who had killed her own parents. Only she was dressed differently, instead of the wet dress she was wearing she wore form fitting jeans and a tank top that hugged her bust.

"Oh, uh, hey I was just coming to keep you company," he said,

Gustevin

Murder always comes at a price

I knew I was destined for this place, but I was not expecting this.
Gus looked around at the remaining occupants of the room. Close by, a nun was sitting with a cold expression on her face, yet the rest of the people were wearing unfamiliar clothing and strange hairstyles. At least some of them seemed to be just as surprised as him.
"Greetings sister," Gus said, turning to speak to the nun. It odd, however, was that he wasn't speaking any Slavic language, yet still understood what he was saying.
The nun just looked at him with hard eyes.
"Sister, how on earth did a pious woman of the cloth end up in Hell?" he asked again.
"I can ask the same of you, Crusader," she finally spoke.
"Very well, we all may have our secrets," Gus said quickly, bowing his head before standing up.
"Oi you, tin soldier," one of the men wearing the strange attire said, gesturing for Gus to come closer, "What, did you die at a costume party?"
"I beg your pardon?" Gus said,taken aback, "Why would you say such a thing when your attire is so... So unholy!"
The man grinned. "A strange choice of words," he said, rising and extending his hand towards Gus, "I'm Vinny. Vinny Donner."
Gus took his hand off his sword hilt and warily shook Vinny's hand, "I am Gustevin Holstinak."
"What?" Vinny said.
"You can just call me Gus. Where did those other two go?"
"Not sure. But they went out there."
Gus exited the room, passing into a strangely furnished room. Everything was strange about this place. The language, the clothes, the people. He knew that he didn't belong here, and that he and the nun (the only other person who looked normal) could escape this place.
He walked down a hallway, seeing many doors, all of a different make. Then, at the end of the hallway, he found a door marked with his family crest, the three ravens on a light blue field. The door also looked like it didn't belong, its make like those he was use to.
Gus pushed slightly on the door, and was greeted by the warmth of familiarity. The armoire looked like the one he had at his ward's residence, and so did most of the other furniture. A long, highly decorated mirror was located on the opposite side of the room, and Gus saw himself for the first time.
He looked normal, too normal for a man who had been poisoned and had battle fever when he died. His armor was blood spattered, yet he wasn't sure if it was his blood or the heathens he kill be before he himself fell's blood,and there where many dents and a puncture hole in his armor where the blows landed and the poisoned arrow finally pierced it.
Gus methodically started removing his armor, until he stood there only wearing a woolen undergarment. His chest and body were scarred where he had been cut by Mongol blades. There was also a larger scar where the arrow had pierced his stomach, yet he felt no pain from that area.
Still in just his undergarments, Gus examined the items he had with him. His journal was there, although it was blood spattered,as well as his herb pouch and the brooch his ward gave to him.
His mace surprisingly had no blood on it, despite the fact that he remembers using it before his death. His shield and sword were also clean.
Gus moved over to the armoire, and found normal clothes inside, as well as a new chainmail shirt. He put on leather breaches, the chainmail shirt and a green cotton jerkin over it. He put on a pair of traveling boots, and walked over to a table close to the bed. Here he found an inkwell, quill, several pieces of parchment, and a whetstone. He sat down on the bed, and started sharpening his sword.
There was work to be done...

Vinny

"Unholy?" Vinn chuckled as the living Halloween costume strode off. Judging by the fashion of his armor the man was a crusader, probably one of those guys who dressed up in armor to fight with wooden swords and sticks.

He looked around, taking In the others. The Nun seemed solemn if not remorseful, and the others looked around with expressions of either fear or awe, some with both.

Vinn on the other hand, would not accept this. Hell? Preposterous, with no proof of an underworld in any known studies or experiments this was simply an elaborate hoax set up by some poor fool who would have hell to pay soon.

Strolling over to the bowl of chocolates, he popped one into his mouth and chewed it, thinking. They were all in a mansion, that was obvious with all the fancy adornments, but how had they gotten there? A car, yes, Vinn remembered being hit by one, it must have knocked him out, allowing the driver to drag him into the back with all these people who had likely been victims to the same scheme, an odd way to collect a group but effective nonetheless. Now that he was awake, Vinn guessed he had to find a way out. To do that, he had to know where he was.

With that, Vinn grabbed a handful of candy and opened a door, leading to god knew where.

"Dear Reader, If you can leave the house and make it through all twelve circles of Hell, you'll get another shot at life. We can't tell you anymore, but know that you must all be alive to make it out. This is Hell. Signed, L."
Lamia raised an eyebrow, staring at the man who had finished reading the letter.
Signed L, huh...?
Could be either Lucifugus or Lucifer. Probably Lucifer though, he's well-known for being that kind of guy. And he's quite the star in Hell, too. Plus, Lucifugus... Pff, nah, it couldn't be. The Demon of Stupidity probably didn't even know how to write.
Suddenly, Lamia realized something else. Hell? Hell existed? What was that supposed to imply? And she... She had died?
"Think, Lamia... remember..."
The woman closed her eyes and tried to focus on her memories rather than the others she could see in the room.

******

"Quick! You must get outta here!"
Upon witnessing her crew's escape to safety, the leader sighed, relieved.
Welp. It was just her and... And what exactly?
She heard a powerful noise. It was getting closer. Turning around, she witnessed a quite big missile coming her way. Considering its size, it was most certainly powerful enough to wipeout the Divine Demon. That was it. She was done for.
Smiling to her rushing death, Hexglyph the witch pulled out her Pistmagun for the last time, aimed and fired. The guided missile detonated, obliterating everything around it. It was impossible to tell if the explosion had been caused by the impact, or the Pistmagun's bullet. Either way, The Witch was satisfied enough."


Lamia opened her eyes, panting. Instinctively, she knew.
She had died.
And yet...
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look at the house."
Lamia raised her head and looked around. She remembered now. She was in some kind of room, and a few other people were with her. She had just the time to witness a young girl leave the place by one of the available doors.
Huh. Was this really the afterlife? Because it seemed way too realistic for Lamia's taste.
"Well then. Anyone else want to be forth coming on how the hell they got stuck here in hell?"
Everyone looked at the man who rose up, apparently determined to follow the girl. Lamia rolled her eyes.
"Oh, great. One chick leaves and a guy follows probably going to go screw her," she couldn't stop herself from muttering.
The man instantly turned around, staring at her.
Oopsie. Too loud.
The other one took one step forward. He didn't look happy at all. Lamia smiled and stepped forward as well.
"Now dear, there should be no sex before marriage."
"Yeah sure, you idiots stand around and not say a word until after I move, no I ain't going to find her I'm getting out of here!"
The guy stormed off, obviously upset.
"Probably went too far with that one. Darn."
Two of the men behind her began a short-lived discussion before the bigger of the two - was that a freakin' knight armor he was wearing? - walked out of the room as well. The skinner one walked off as well.
"Should probably follow their example."
Lamia was about to leave when she heard someone coughing slightly. Turning around, she saw a small girl she had not seen before, dressed in a colorful kimono. She was awkwardly gazing at her belt. Following her intrigued look, Lamia smiled and approached the girl.
"Not sure why you're starin' at my Twinbits that way," she began nicely, "but that's not the kind of tool you'd like to hold. So... Is there any reason why a cute girl such as yourself would find herself in the afterlife?"
The colorful teenager's eyes widened, but she didn't reply. Or at least she didn't appear to want to. Or maybe she couldn't? Oh well. It wasn't worth staying here anyway.
"Looks like you like silence a lot," Lamia remarked after a while. "Well, it's fine by me! If you end up having any questions to ask somebody, I can always fill the part. Name's Lamia, by the way. Nice to meet you, Silent-san!"
The tiniest, shyest little smile Lamia had ever seen appeared on the girl's pale face.
Cutest. Thing. Ever.
Satisfaction painted on her face, Lamia successfully restrained herself from hugging the adorable-looking girl - This was Hell after all, so maybe she was some kind of tiny demoness -, rose up and went through a random door. She found herself in some sort of dinning room, with everything looking like... Like glass. Even the chairs, table and other ornaments looked like glass.
"Weirdest decoration of all times..." the woman murmured before taking one of the chairs and sitting on it. She opened her bag and pulled out her pack of cards - perfectly undamaged, for some odd reason - and placed it on the table as a pile before closing her eyes.
"I summon thee... Appear before my very eyes, Invoked One!"
She drew the first card of her pile before sighing of exasperation.
"Mobysield, the Patient Shark...", she said to herself, recognizing the feathered, whale-sized shark. The woman stared at the card, thoughtful.
According to its legend, Mobysield was the almighty guardian of the sea and a cunning predator. Its teeth could tear mountains apart and his thirst would lead him to drink entire lakes or small oceans, which he'd later release somewhere else, causing torrential rains or floods around the world. Mobysield's duty was to patiently reshape the land through water spread, and drawing this card meant that she should do just that: wait, stay sharp, and slowly but surely make everything go the way she wanted.
Hum. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.
"Thanks, Mobysield," she murmured before putting away her pack of cards in her backpack. Slightly relieved, Lamia crossed her arms and waited in her chair. Someone was bound to come to this place, and the letter did mention that they all needed to be alive in order to get another chance at life.
Because Lamia was convinced that they were indeed in Hell. And if they had to all work together to get out of it, then she'd be prepared.
"Let's see how those demons like my steel."

Dante Draven | Inside the Parlour

Words echoed into Dante's head as he awoke to the soft click of a door shutting. A man reading a letter, a girls annoyingly care free attitude at personal murder, and another who's words poured from her mouth without a thought. He opened his eyes to the scene playing out in front of him. Watched as a young drenched girl walked out of the room. Followedshortly after by a knight and another sugar happy man. The knight is what painted the picture first, among the strange situations, to see that man stand so comfortably in a weighted attire was all he needed. He was not in his own time or place.

He remained silent. Watching as he recalled every memory leading up to this moment, replaying the memories in his head. Deep blue eyes flickered gently, picking up every detail that thru could amongst the crowd. They flashed across the way to the nun, and then to the girl with unruly lips as she befriended a young girl wearing a very strange dress. He paid it no mind, remembering that some details are far more important than others.

Twelve gates of hell. Hell, which would give into no fixed measurement of time would or place could surely bring together a wide variety of individuals. So if was not their attire he needed to concentrate on, or even the language of which they spoke. Their personality, morals, were what he sought after.

He immediately wrote off the drenched girl who had just reappeared to the man whom had read the letter to them. He, Dante did not have an answer for yet. He was charismatic to a certain degree, and had a thing for being lead. But he remembered the way he turned so suddenly at the remark of the latte woman. Did he give way to such actions frequently?

He turned to the woman, watching as she laid fortune cards and chose the invoking piece. The small girl behind her watched as well. He contemplated it for a moment and decided to be patient still, unruled to furs are dangerous, but they can also be useful. And the small girl was a mystery still.

The knight and nun were also curious. A crusader, a man of virtue that he had read in his studies. And a nun, whom by all accounts should have been the least likely to have landed here. The irony of their characters sent Dantes teeth to a grind; secrets were the most dangerous human flaws.

Figuring he needed to be alone and let others come to him, he walked off. Brushing brown hair back as he stood and pulled his white colored shirt tightly down. It was tailored to him, but not form fitting, and it breathed exceptionally. The feeling dawned on him as he stopped at the door. Hand gripping the doorknob firmly as Lucy came flooding into his mind. This very shirt tailored by her, her red hair, bright green eyes, and he gripped the handle with a cool anger as he remembered what landed him in hell.

"I'm sorry Lucy..." He muttered gently under his breath as he let the handle go as someone approached him from behind.

Kiira Hasame – Beginning

Kiira opened her eyes from her long slumber. She noticed that she was not her room, but a room she didn’t even recognize. As she stood from the ground, she looked around the unfamiliar room.
“Where..?”
She headed out of the room, noticing a long hallway that leads down a double doors. She started walking slowly toward the doors, her kimono dragging across the carpet.

She stood in front the door, grabbing a hold of the handle. Slowly opening it, she noticed a few people, including a strange-looking nun and a knight that stand before her. “Ah, a new one arrives.” One of the occupants, who looked like a mischievous-looking girl, walked up to Kiira.

“I guess you haven’t read the letter.”

Kiira softly spoke. “Letter…?”

The mischievous girl open a small piece of paper, reading it to her.

‘Dear Reader,

If you can leave the house and make it through all twelve circles of Hell, you'll get another shot at life. We can't tell you anymore, but know that you must trust each other, and that you must all stay alive to make it out. This is Hell.


Signed,
L’

“Hell… I’m in… Hell?” Kiira didn’t expect herself to be here so soon, but she never realized she would get another chance to live. A second coming, where she can start a new beginning.

Kiira kept looking at the girl, observing her.
"Not sure why you're starin' at my Twinbits that way." The woman spoke softly, smiling at her. "...But that's not the kind of tool you'd like to hold. So... Is there any reason why a cute girl such as yourself would find herself in the afterlife?"

Kiira looked at the ground, didn't want to think about the past.

"Looks like you like silence a lot."
"..."
"Well, it's fine by me! If you end up having any questions to ask somebody, I can always fill the part. Name's Lamia, by the way. Nice to meet you, Silent-san!"

Kiira looked up at the strange woman, and smiled gently.

She noticed a man, holding the door handle that leads out to the house. She started walking up to him, tugging on the sleeve of his shoulder.

"Are you okay...?

The man turned and looked down at the small girl. He seemed... lonely. "I'm fine.
"What's your name?"
"Dante."

"If you want... we can go through this together."
"Sure, I guess... Your name?"
"Kiira..."
"Let's go, Kiira."
Kiira nodded gently, having her hands together in front of her body.

I guess if I want to live… I must go through the twelves circles of hell. She thought as she looked down on the ground, remembering why she was in Hell in the first place.

Elarie | The Parlour

It didn't matter what the note said or what anyone else thought, they were not getting out. They were not getting out because Elarie didn't want to get out and she didn't want another 'shot' at life. The very wording of the note made her wrinkle her face up and she clenched her hands at her side, breathing evenly to steady her nerves. She was supposed to be dead. She didn't know who the other people in the room were but she got the feeling they were supposed to be dead as well.

The room felt too crowded and Elarie headed for the door, but a brown haired man got there before her and proceeded to pause in front of it and block her exit from the room. She needed to leave. She needed a room by herself to think about what had happened, what she'd had to do. The things which she shouldn't have to think about because she ought to be dead and it was someone's idea of a bad joke that she wasn't.

"I'm sorry Lucy..." the man muttered as he released the door knob.

"Don't be," Elarie replied.

The man turned to face her and his blue eyes - brighter than her own - looked her up and down.

"I need to get by," Elarie said. Her hands were shaking now, still clenched in fists at her side, and she thought she could feel blood mingled with the skin caught beneath her nails. She hadn't thought it was possible to bleed when you were dead and now that she thought about it, there should have been blood pooling down her face, but there wasn't, and she wondered who had found their bodies and whether they'd buried her apart from her family.

Maybe she deserved it if they had.

"Pardon miss, but I ask again, are you alright?"

Elarie blinked and realised she'd been so focused on the blood and the thoughts for a moment that she'd forgotten about the man in front of her and her intentions to leave the room.

"Of course," Elarie lied. "I'd just like to explore the house." And see if there are any balconies I can throw myself off.

"Would you mind if we accompanied you?" the gentleman asked. We? Elarie blinked and then noticed a small girl, her fingers closed around the man's sleeves. Was that why he had stopped at the door? Elarie had been so focused on her target - the door and not the man - that she hadn't noticed her.

Did she mind if they went with her? Elarie shook her head softly and wondered if you got punished for lying in hell, or if it was telling the truth that got people into trouble down here.

Reina|Bedroom

My hair was dripping onto my dress. The fabric was ripped in more than one place, and I shuddered to think about how I looked. A quick investigation of the house had revealed a kitchen, a dining room, and eleven bedrooms. I had nicked a bottle of wine from the huge liquor cabinet in the kitchen, and I set it down. The room- my room-was beautiful. It was almost like my room from home, just better. There was a baby grand piano in the corner, and a steel-and-glass chandelier hung over the bed. Other than that, it was the same as home. Even the attached closet and bathroom were the same.

The clothes in the closet were again, the same from home, or nearly the same. Grinning at the niceness of the devil, I found a pair of jeans and a shirt. A purple blotch on my arm caught my attention, and when I turned to look at it, I realized it was a bruise. How the hell do I have a bruise when I have no concussion or water in my lungs? Shrugging it off as another of the oddities of Hell, I collapsed onto the bed, sighing in happiness. Just as my mind started to wander, I heard a knock at the door, and I reluctantly went to see who it was.

The man from before- Jack- was standing outside my door, fist poised to knock. I started to scowl at him, but then I remembered the gun. I want that gun, and I want it now. Careful not to let myself look at it, I let my gaze flick over his face and body. Curving my lips into a smile, I tilted my head and gestured him into the room.

"What brings you here, love?" I twisted the small corkscrew into the bottle of wine and pulled it out. Lifting the bottle to my lips, I let a small amount pass through my lips. Walking over to the piano, I sat down on the bench and put the bottle where the music was supposed to go.

He sat down beside me. "Just came to keep you company." I ran a finger over the pale ivory keys and pressed down on one slowly enough not to make any noise. "Do you play?"

I shrugged. "When I was alive, I did." I played a scale, loving the weight of the keys beneath my fingers. I spun around on the bench so that I was facing the rest of the room.

"Why'd you kill your parents?" The question was so sudden that I nearly choked on the drink of wine I had just taken.

"They were assholes. They blackmailed me for most of my life. I decided that I had had enough. So when they came home form my eighteenth birthday, the first and only birthday I remember them coming home for, I killed them."

"You never got caught?"

I laughed. "Of course not." I took his hand, giving him a 'really' look when he flinched, and pulled him to the bed. We lay down next to each other, and I twisted around to face him. "You've killed people, haven't you? Did you ever regret it?"

He turned to face me, too. "How do you know I've killed people?"

I shrugged, smiling. "Lucky guess?" I didn't mention the microsecond of respect that had flashed across his face when he had heard me talk about killing my parents, or the way he'd looked slightly proud when I'd asked him the question.

He didn't answer my question, just slung an arm over my waist. I laughed and rolled my eyes, giving me the perfect opportunity to check to see exactly where the gun was. Unfortunately, it was on the side that was beneath him at that moment. Lifting my chin, I moved closer to him so that we were level, and then pressed my lips against his. He kissed me back almost immediately, and I pulled him down onto me. Ignoring his hands that were feeling me up, I waited for the moment that his hands were furthest away from the gun and ran my hands down his chest, snatching the gun in the process. Trapped beneath him and not wanting to be forced to give the gun up, I pressed the muzzle against his side, flicking the safety off in one fluid motion and desperately hoping there were still rounds left.

"Get off of me, and slowly, or I swear to god, I'll put this bullet through your lung." My voice was cold and mocking. "Want to find out if people can die twice, sweetheart?"

Jack Umbra - "Clever gal"

Jack's first mistake was looking for her, his second was missing the fact that she made a "lucky guess" that he had killed before. It was ridiculous really, his criminal life taught him that there were no such things as a "lucky guess" or "coincidence." Slowly Jack got up and away from her, making sure to keep his hands where she could see them while silently cursing his mistakes he took three steps back, two more when she stood up. Slowly Jack began descending back into his own darkness summoning the evil and cruelty of his alter ego.

"You know, I like a girl with a gun only when it's not pointed at me" Jack said a growl in his tone.

"I'm sure you do. Unfortunately, it seems that I do have this gun pointed at you. So sorry, love" She said.

He scoffed then, "have the damn thing, if that letter is telling any sort of truth then there some nasty shit out there waiting for us."

He was already walking toward the door annoyed and extremely pissed off, "get out of here, now!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever lady," he said slamming the door behind him. "Fucking bitch," he mumbled under his breath.

Jack moved though the corridor obviously pissed off he went from wanting to make an acquiesce to getting his gun stolen by said woman. There had to be a way out, somewhere someway and he'd find it and drag everyone here straight to the twelfth weather they liked it or not. He needed that second chance at life, get back to Elizabeth, save that sweet can of hers, and then figure out how the hell he was going to recover everything he lost. Jack ran into someone then, he was tall and intimidating but Jack was only seeing Red and what he wanted to happen. He spared him no kindness as he simply pushed his way past him.

"Excuse me next time asshole?" the large guy said.

Jack's hairline trigger went off spinning around and burying his chest into the guy and bring his free hand up to meet his chin. The large guy toppled backwards taking steps until he finally fell onto his back but Jack didn't care for what he just did he continued on his way. After moments of walking and finally taking some deep breaths he had found the foyer of the mansion and took a seat on the stairs rubbing the bridge of his eyes as he slowly tried to calm himself down.

Vinny

The door lead to the dining room. The dining room was shiny. Vinn tended to like shiny things. Then again, shiny things attracted people. Vinn didn't like people.

So there he sat, tapping his foot against the ground, debating as to whether or not shiny things were better than people.

That's when the group walked in.

Vinn sat in absolute horror as they filed through the door,

"How did I manage this with more people?"

Then he realized, he had talked to them.

Stumbling forwards he slowly made his way towards them, desperately trying to think up a conversation,

"Ah, a protective stance from the male, could they be siblings? No, one of them is Japanese while the other two are white. The subject of family is not the best choice since we have all been kidnapped.

Should I ask about the dress? The elephant in the room but a hard conversation to make. The smaller girl is obviously shy judging by the habitual shifting and downwards facing posture, If I was to ask about this not only would it be ignoring the other two subjects but would be incredibly hard seeing the mental block this young lady has put up caused by severe trauma of course but of what kind I am not certain.

Is there a chance I could query about the walls? Perhaps, in fact I shall do so. The group must have noticed them by now thus the protective stance. Nervousness always appears when confronted with a new situation and defensiveness would obviously be a symptom of this, perhaps subconsciously so, but a symptom none the less. Case in point, I must not rush it, bring up the décor later and start with a friendly greeting."

Thus he began with a,

"Hello there!"

Dante Draven | Entrance to the Kitchen

Dante cursed himself as he fell for his own demises. Asking to help out even though he was better off alone for the time being. Oh well, guess company isn't completely out of the question, he guessed.

He nodded to them both, not needing to know them just yet as two was enough company for today. Kiira, the small girl with a fancy and almost to exotic dress tagged along willingly. Her slightly older, yet still young and blonde haired friend (Or not friend rather) followed reluctantly. He didn't know why he asked her to accompany him, but he guessed, it was better not to leave a woman alone in a place so full of men.

He beckoned for them to follow without a word, using his hand to wave them on. Opening the door, he came into what looked like a kitchen. He saw a man across the way scribbling on something before he looked up at the noise. his eyes immediately went to Kiira.

As he approached, Dante put a habitual and protective arm up between himself and the woman behind him. Not straight out, but just enough to let them know to hold on a second. The man was older than Dante was, and scraggly looking. Hair practically throwing itself in every direction as he made a horrible attempt at a greeting.

"Afternoon..." Dante replied calmly, nodding his head to the individual. Kiira practically hid herself behind him, not saying a word, while the other stood quietly in what looked like her own thoughts. A gentle nod was all the man received from her.

"So, what are your names?" the man asked, obviously not good at small talk and shaken just a bit. Whether from the place, circumstance, or just a nervous tick of being him was unknown. Dante stepped so he was in the middle of the two females, Putting his arm around Kiira as he was watching her, and a shoulder just in front of the other woman.

"My name is Dante," he said cooly, "This is Ms. Kiira," he gestured with his arm, "And this is -"

"Elarie." the woman cut him off kindly, but not at all friendly. The tone like someone who could no longer wait to be out of the situation, but was to unsure of how to do so. Dante took that bait.

"Awesome! Well, mine is Vinny." he was really trying wasn't he? Dante thought.

"A pleasure sir," he returned, slowly pushing Kiira by the shoulder towards the pantry and another door, holding Elarie's hand as she followed. "Find anything useful here?" he asked trying to keep the situation calm. He didn't know how the two other would act, but he too was trying to find somewhere he could be alone. What did he get himself into tonight?

Elarie | The Pantry

Elarie allowed herself to be led out of the room because less people was better and she was happy to leave the older man behind. He didn't look particularly like her dad but it didn't take much to start her off thinking about him and how everything would have been alright if he'd just not gone and died on her.

She couldn't help looking back over her shoulder though, even as the door was closing behind her and she saw the man get up and go back out into the hall. She guessed he was looking for someone else to talk to and felt a soft beat of guilt. Maybe the other two would have stayed if she hadn't been with them. Maybe.

Dante let go of her arm once the door was closed and she pulled it back to herself. Dante. Like that writer. Hadn't he written some kind of poem on hell? Elarie might have pointed out to her daddy that it was a perfect irony but her daddy wasn't there.

"Are you two alright?" Dante asked them.

The brown haired girl looked up at him with gratitude and gave a shy nod. "Yes. Thank you." Her words were soft and quiet and then she looked away again and started staring at the room around them.

Elarie watched as the girl picked out some food and Dante chose a few items as well. Elarie didn't feel like eating though. It was cold in the pantry. Maybe cold enough to go to sleep here and never wake up. Was that what she wanted? Would it hurt less the second time around?

Never before had Elarie felt so uncertain. Suddenly she pushed the door to the pantry back open, startling a grunt from one or both of her companions and she hurried back into the now empty kitchen. That man Vinnie had probably found someone else to make him feel better by now.

Well someone else wouldn't make her feel better but she'd seen something that might before the door closed and now Elarie glided over to the counter where a bottle of wine sat. It was mostly empty but she opened the cabinet next to it, searching for a glass, and there she discovered more wines and other alcohols all lined up below a row of glasses.

"You want to pour me a glass as well?"

Elarie thought that maybe if she drank enough, she might forget that she wasn't alone. Might forget about the people in the room... and the ones in her head.

"You want a bourbon? My daddy always swore by bourbon."

Elarie had never much liked the stuff but she poured herself a glass now and started on another two.

"Hold up there, this one's just a child," Dante protested. Elarie shrugged. Didn't children have a right to forget as well?

Phillip - Of the Upstairs

So this is Hell? A place so notorious for its everlasting torture of flames licking your skin, but only ending up like a crappy mansion, probably even giving me chills. It looks like an ancient building from the twenty first century, spiffed up in attempt to look nice. What a disappointment.

But this is Hell. The thought runs through my mind over and over again. From the moment I pulled the trigger, I knew I would end up here. I mean, who would't after the feat I did? Just the fact that I'm dead is what I can't quite grasp. There isn't even a bullet hole, or burns running up my arms and legs from the fire engulfing my vision before the bang.

Just as interesting as being dead is, being granted another chance at the life I chose to leave is more intriguing. Of course, it all depends on the circumstances of my return from the fires I left in - somewhat ironic that I believed that to be my fate, but now not. Perhaps if I arose somewhere else, as another alliance unbeknownst to the word as of yet, but another legend. The thought makes me shiver with excitement.

The only issue is my erratic company. If I'm to make it, then rest must as well, which could cause some problems. All the others seem so incompetent, the first tip off that not one acknowledged me. Me. Unless they're as old, even older, as this place (and a few of them hit the mark, with some nun-looking woman and a guy in clunky armor.)

Up the stairs is no better, pertaining to the tons of ancient artifacts. But it's more simple, aside from the grandma wall paper. Doors seem to run down the hall, on both sides, around a dozen in total. I assume this is residence, and if the rest of the place is a hint to the remaining interior design, it'll be terrible all around.

It seems interesting that there would be so many rooms. Is there a specific way to tell who claims which room? On a few doors there are symbols and markings, but others are left completely plain. I wonder if the first two people to storm off are enjoying their time together up here. What were there names again?

At that moment, a door to the left of me slams shut with enough force to cause the entire mansion to shake down to its poorly constructed foundation. Speak of the Devil. I move forward, hoping to get an idea on what has just happened, but in doing so the man slams into me. After glancing at me for a second or two, he shoves me aside and continues on.

"Excuse me next time, asshole?" I mutter.

Without much warning, he turns back towards me and lands a punch on my jaw. As I was caught off guard, the motion sends me onto my back. Before I can even scramble back onto my feet, he's already walking away again, stomping down the stairs.

I finally pull myself up and start rubbing my chin. Even though he's not there to see it, I scowl in the direction he left for a moment and then continue back down the hall. If he wants to go be a dick, fine. But I'm sure he'll regret this when he's kissing my feet for forgiveness after I take charge of this group of misfits. All of them should feel blessed that they gained me.

Towards the end of the hall, I chose a random door without any writing on it and decide to retire there. It also seems I somehow chose the 'correct' door, as the room very closely resembles mine before the fire. The only differences are the desk is much neater, there's an actual closet, and none of the four monitors works. Seeing them lifeless already makes me want to set off on the journey through the mentioned twelve circles. Even the absence of the usual humming of the computers running is so depressing.

Also, there appears to be a bit more room between all the items, with all sorts of empty bins (I assume) stacked against one of the black walls and a simple bed with gray sheets against another. I might've stayed longer, but I assume that the rest are in their places, so I head back out into the hall once more.

So what is there to do? Most of the rest are down stairs, but I'm not quite in the mood to encounter the guy who needs some anger management. Then up here there's nothing left to explore. Unless something 'magical' happens on the other half.

Surprisingly, I do find something. A minor difference, but intriguing nonetheless. While the other room entrances run along the hall, this one faces whoever walks down it, situated at the very end. Everything is the same about it except the handle. The others appear to be round and silver while this one is gold and has a longer, smoother handle.

Though, when I try to open the door, it's completely locked, not even able to turn the handle. I attempt it a couple more times and end up trying to kick the damn thing down, but still nothing. For being so old, I'd expect the hinges to budge or something.

"I doubt someone would appreciate you trying to barge into their place of residence," a voice says from behind me. I turn and spot a man, probably a little taller than me, with with slightly long blonde hair.

"Well, who are you?" I retort.

"Gustevin Holstinak," he replies, "or Gus as others have found easier." Apparently, he also has a slight accent, of where I can't tell, though I can understand him well enough.

"Alright then, Gus. I wouldn't really worry about someone staying here, because it probably leads to some dank attic of no interest. I had only hoped it would give me something else to do."

He frowns, while holding his hand close to his waist, probably prepping some plastic sword for aesthetics. "Who might you be, since I have made myself known."

I chuckle. "You don't know who I am?"

After a look of confusion flashes on his face, I just sigh and continue, "Donnert 'e' Smith. Such a shame, though, that you must live under some kind of rock."

Gus blinks a couple times at me, almost making me smile that there would finally be some recognition, but then sighs. "I haven't heard such a name before."

Not now, I guess. But by the time we're out of here, I can guarantee you, it won't be one you'll ever forget.