Chapter Four: Keep Calm And Fear Everyone

Player: Katrina

Location: Classified

I screamed for help.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “This shot will help calm your nerves. You clearly need it. You’re literally screaming for help.”

I stared at the syringe in his hand. I worried about what was in it. Poison? And not the band?

“I’m good, but thanks,” I said quickly. “Now that you mention it, screaming is actually a rather calming activity.”

“Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully. “We stole these potions.”

“You stole what?”

“Potions.”

“Potions?”

“If you’d stop repeating me and listen…”

“And you steal them?”

“We steal them. We don’t make them.”

If the doctor was a theif, that meant he was akin to illegal activity. And if he even was used to illegal activity, that meant he may do some more law breaking, and what did that mean if he was a doctor? Did that mean he'd steal people's brains and insert them into Frankenstein?

“And that’s supposed to be reassuring how?” I asked.

“The people who make potions are evil.”

“Oh, and I’m just supposed to believe these mystery potions won’t kill me? Even though you plan on using them on me?”

He grinned. “See? You do know things. We are going to use them on you.”

“But I don’t want you to!”

“These potions cure diseases. Heal, soothe, that sort of thing. But if you’re interested in the deadly ones—”

“I am not! Unless you’re planning to use one on me!”

He leaned in, eyes gleaming. “The deadly ones are smell-based. They don’t affect the user unless they take a really deep breath. Then the victim floats—can’t move, can’t get help—just slowly drifting until they die.”

I recoiled. “That’s terrifying! Is that going to happen to me?!”

“No, no. We said we’d only use the good-for-you potions, remember?”

“And I also said I didn’t want to hear about the deadly potions!”

“Well here is the potion you wanted to know about, once this baby is in your system then you’ll be calm”

“No, I don’t need A potion to calm me, I have screaming, remember?”

The doctor shifted in his seat, mildly disappointed. “If you say so. I never found it that relaxing.” He set the syringe down with a dramatic sigh. “Well, I should be asking you questions…What’s your full name?”

I didn’t know what my name was. I could lie and say something like, “Your mother’s, but reversed.” That would sound confident. Believable, even. Yeah. That’s what I’d say.

Luckily, I didn’t get the chance to launch my foolproof plan, because there was A loud crashing sounds of someone sprinting down the halls—I presumed they were halls—outside the room. The doctor looked up at the ceiling with an expression so annoyed, I figured he hadn’t had chocolate in a few days. Or maybe he had, and it was still stuck on his teeth. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

Then the door slammed open.

A girl stood there, grinning like she just won the lottery and got to punch her enemies in the face. She had sleek, dark hair in a sharp bob, wore a tank top that showed off defined abs, and was so effortlessly beautiful I nearly forgot to be afraid. She didn’t just walk into the room—she entered like a goddess descending from the clouds.

Oh no, I thought. I’m a sacrifice.

Her perfect teeth gleamed like they were designed specifically for chewing up people like me. “Is this the new recruit?” she asked, voice light and amused. Then she turned to me, extending a hand with all the confidence of someone who regularly won sword fights and arm-wrestled wolves. “Are you Katrina Longingale?”

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I tried to shake her hand, but being—literally—tied to a bed kind of made that difficult. My hand twitched in the restraints like I was offering a very lazy high five. She beamed at me like I’d just made her day.

Maybe the doctor was just a lowly peasant in her world. Maybe he was next. Then again, something clicked in my brain.

“Recruit?” I asked slowly, turning my head toward the doctor. “Wait. Does that mean I’m not a sacrifice? Because if I am, I’m still totally calm about either choice. Just, you know, asking for scheduling purposes.”

The pink clothed doctor sighed. He turned to the goddess looking women. “Gracie, don’t inturupt me, I'm still testing to see if she’s groggy after the medicine I gave her, and if her mental’s state ready to leave. I do that by asking basic questions to see how they respond. If you answer for her then there’s no point.”

Well, I guess I am “Katrina” then. I wonder if I’m A cat person. But then again, if I’m just going by the name, then it would probably be “Catrina”. But maybe then it would be too obvious. Cats are cute I thought. But maybe they wouldn’t be in real person. Maybe I shouldn’t make fun of the name though. It was A real one. And mine apparently.

The women who I presumed was named Gracie, said to the doctor “She looks alright to me.” She put her hands on her hips. “Unless if you want to keep her here for some reason? Like you did with me?”

She pulled out A scanning gun, like the ones at your grocery store.

The doctor got really nervous. “It’s not like that! I swear!” He walked over to her and whispered, but whispers travel as far as non whispers so I heard everything. “I thought you’d promise never to mention that in front of patients!”

“Oh yeah?” she prompted. Very loudly. “Asking about robots in space that nobody cares about?”

Robots in space? What kind of robots? Killer ones who go back in time and say “I’ll be back” but looked kind of hot so you weren’t imitated until they made the kill.

“I’d like to know what I might be subjected too, but that’s just me.” I clarified.

The horror was on the doctors face as he realized what kind of situation he was in, I wish I could emphasize. I noticed at that time he had shoes that were covered in glitter. Gracie was barefoot. Weird the things you notice when you’re waiting for someone to announce your fate.

Grace crossed her arms. “He’ll ask you the normal questions sure, like the where you went to school, your favorite food, and your favorite sheep from that weird cartoon where they kill sheep.” I was glad that I forgot that cartoon, Gracie continued. “But then he quizzes you about this absurd anime, and then he asks you how well you can CLEAN. And then he tells disgusting stories about hotel housekeepers like them finding A bloody nampkin in a room!”

The doctor threw his hands up. “It’s not as bad as it sounds!” he shouted. “It’s just that not everyone’s exactly a fan of certain things—I respect that—but I thought it’d be fun—”

“And you know why he does it?!” Gracie cut in, her voice sharp enough to slice through drywall.

I looked between them, wondering if the doctor was actually some kind of butcher from the underworld. Gracie looked furious. The doctor looked terrified. I looked more terrified. Honestly, I hoped this was just a dream—one I could wake up from and return to my old life. Preferably one that involved no shouting and significantly fewer terrifying strangers. Because whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t calm.

But don’t tell the doctor that.

“I don’t know why he does it.” My lips barely could make out the words. “My knowledge lacking is kind of like A superpower.”

“Oh, then this is good,” Gracie muttered, smiling—but also fuming. It was the kind of expression that made your spine question its commitment to standing upright. “He! He! He is looking for A housekeeper”

“One who gets my anime references,” the doctor chimed in, totally unbothered by her rage. “And if you are interested—”

“She is not interested!” Gracie roared. “You do this aaaaall the time!”

I stood there, wide-eyed, still tied up, still freaked out... but for the first time, I felt like I finally understood something.

“That’s it?” I turned to the doctor, eyes narrowed. “You just want a housekeeper?”

“You said it, sister,” Gracie chimed in, thinking I agreed with her.

“That’s… that’s…”

“Awful?” she offered, jumping in again, confident.

“Not murderous. Hopefully” I finished.

They both blinked at me.

Maybe I’d misjudged the doctor. Maybe he really was just a normal, slightly unhinged doctor with questionable fashion choices and a passion for anime references. Maybe the whole being-stuck-in-a-box thing was just some weird dream. Maybe I was just… crazy. I mean, there are villain clowns who are crazy, and they seem to be doing just fine—lurking around in bat caves, doing villainy.

Oh no, I thought. I’m going crazy.

My whole body shook with fear, rattling the bed like an earthquake made of anxiety.

The doctor frowned at the vibrating bed. “You’re definitely not calm. I should’ve trusted my instincts when you started screaming. I’ll give you a shot—then you can rest.”

He held up the needle again.

Gracie didn’t walk over—she skipped, like this was recess and not an emergency. “You’ve had enough time with her, Doctor,” she said with a fake smile, then ripped the tape off my arm.

“OW!” I yelled.

“I’ve assessed her,” Gracie said, completely ignoring me. “She’s ready.”

She grabbed my arm and pulled me up from the bed like I was a rag doll she couldn’t wait to take home.

“Wait!” the doctor shouted, arms flailing. “I didn’t even get her answer! Does she want to be my housekeeper or not?!”

But I didn’t get to answer. I didn’t even get to decide where my feet went. Gracie dragged me out of the room and into a very long hallway.

Everything was pink. The lights were pink. The walls were pink. Even the air felt pink. It mildly reminded me of Glinda from The Wizard of Oz. I was mildly disappointed in myself that the only thing I seemed to remember clearly was random movie trivia.

Gracie kept pulling me forward. The doctor ran to the doorway after us.

“My name is Lost! Dr. Lost!” he called dramatically.

Gracie mumbled under her breath, “Yeah, sure, Mr. Shaken Not Stirred.”

Lost? What kind of name was that? I had a fuzzy memory of an ending of a show everyone hated—but the title was on the tip of my tongue.

I glanced down the hallway stretching endlessly ahead of us.

“It’s totally fine to walk through the longest hallway in the world!” Gracie said cheerfully.

“Does that mean we’ll starve on the way there?” I asked.

“I mean… only if you didn’t bring food.”

Oh, rotten slugs.