Encounterlogs
Trevors Odd Encounter Sr Alexander 240403
Trevor McNulty's unexpected journey begins in the peculiar setting of Savage Style, a clothing store with an intricate mural of Haven city. However, his shopping excursion is abruptly cut short when he finds himself chained to a chair in a dimly lit, unknown room, with no memory of how he arrived there. Facing a blinding light and an interrogation by a voice shrouded in mystery, Trevor is forced to confront his past with the Canadian military, albeit with a calm and casual demeanor. His interrogators probe deeply into his military rank, associations with paramilitary groups, and his knowledge of the concept of Sanctuary, hinting at the dangers lurking within Haven—a city notorious for unsolved disappearances. Despite the intimidating circumstances, Trevor's resilience shines through as he insistently denies any ties to paramilitary activities, prioritizing his personal safety over defiance.
As the interrogation unfolds, Trevor's circumstances grow increasingly bizarre. He discovers he's in a room that resembles a police interrogation chamber, complete with a steel table, chair, and a two-way mirror. Cleverly, he attempts to leverage his military discipline and rule-following history to navigate through the questioning, which veers into personal territory about his departure from the military and his quest for a new beginning in Haven. His interrogators, whose identities and motives remain veiled, conclude the questioning with a cryptic warning for Trevor to keep his head down, hinting at unseen eyes monitoring his every move in Haven. The session ends with the mysterious unlocking of his chains, leaving Trevor free, yet confined within a metal structure that raises more questions than answers. His remarks about the suitability of the location for interrogation only underscore the surreal and tense experience he's just endured. Despite the ordeal, Trevor's curiosity and resilience suggest that his journey in Haven is far from over, and that the encounter may have deeper implications for his future in the city.
(Trevor's odd encounter(SRAlexander):SRAlexander)
[Tue Apr 2 2024]
In the clothing section of Savage Style
Reclaimed wooden recesses have been built into every available bit of the walls here with the exception of one, which holds a bird's-eye view of the city of Haven from above. Appearing to be hand-painted, the mural shows all the locales of the city in loving, minute detail. The recesses hold articles of clothing, both male and female. Drawers situated below the recesses hold folded items that have been painfully creased to perfection. A small table in the middle of this space offers silken ties and pocket squares along with a few pieces of racy lingerie.
Dangling from the ceiling from braided wiring are small signs directing customer traffic to other areas of the store. One points to the northeast and reads 'Purchase Counter', while the other points eastward and reads, 'Accessories and Exit'.
It is afternoon, about 49F(9C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Trevor finds himself chained to a chair. There's an obvious break in his memories. One moment browsing the clothing selection of Savage Style, the next he finds himself seated, in a dark room, chained to a chair, he can barely see out from.
Trevor blinks, eyes attempting to focus to the dark surroundings of the room he suddenly finds himself in. Inhaling a breath, Trevor manages to calm himself, setting his jaw.
A bright light turns on as he begins to regain consciousness. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and now he is unable to see, a bright pinpoint from the light, like a floodlight too close. It's warm too, making him sweat, adding insult, perhaps, to injury. "State your full name please," a voice formally asks of Trevor.
The sudden light causes Trevor to tilt his chin down, avoiding the brightness until his eyes adjust. Up comes his chin, after a few moments or so, searching the room for anything, any sign of the voice. "Trevor McNulty," despite the earlier panic he's found a calmness.
"And your rank in the Canadian military?" A voice asks of Trevor, flat, monotone.
"Not apart of it anymore, don't go by one." Trevor replies casually.
As time passes he can adjust to the light he can start to make out some details in the room. Steel table, chair, double sided glass. Almost looks like a police precinct interrogation room? "So you are no longer in active duty?" The voice acts Trevor.
The voice asks Trevor.
"No," Trevor says with a glance towards the glass, eyes narrowing - as he tries to make out any details behind the glass. "Did my time and felt it wasn't for me anymore."
"Do you have any assosciation with any paramilitary groups?" The voice asks firmly, almost cutting Trevor off as he explains.
"Couldn't tell you that," Trevor replies with a hint of arrogance to it. "Would be classified and all that, you know?"
He can see feet, only one other person appears to be in the room. "Are you familiar with the concept of Sanctuary, Trevor McNulty?" The voice seems to ignore his response.
"I'm aware of what the word means, yes." From behind, Trevor fiddles with the chains, trying to find some way out of them. "A place of safety."
"So, a man quits the military, leaving his home country behind to come to Haven. Nobody here knows you, no connections, but here you are." The voice now sounds vaguely feminine? The shoes suggest it but who really knows. It's something? At least? "Haven, as you may or may not know, has the largest number of unresolved disappearance in the world. Not that anyone records that information." Fingers drill on the table. "If you'd like, you could become a part of that unknown statistic."
"Or," it offers. "You could answer my questions to our satisfaction."
Trevor doesn't particularly have a lot of things going for him, but he also doesn't really have a lot of things to fight for. A silence from the man for a little as he mulls over the threat. "No, ma'am? Sir?" I have no connections with anything paramilitary." It seemed personal safety won the day in the end."
Trevor doesn't particularly have a lot of things going for him, but he also doesn't really have a lot of things to fight for. A silence from the man for a little as he mulls over the threat. "No, ma'am? Sir? I have no connections with anything paramilitary." It seemed personal safety won the day in the end.
The fingers stop drilling on the table. He sits in silence. Footsteps receed a door squeaks open, someone leaves, door slams shut, and Trevor is for the moment left in silence.
Trevor finds himself left alone, a minute drags into a collection of minutes. He has some recollection. There was a sharp pain, and then darkness? He must have been abducted? But who? Why? How does he use this time?
His eyes search the room, table first, then glass, then Trevor looks at the chair he's chained too. Clearly this someone has done homework in chaining people to chairs, he frowns - wrists struggling at the chains. Well, he's not getting out that way. Definitely seems like in this best interest to cooperate.
The chains jangle. The chains are not going to break, but maybe with enough effort...? But maybe he can talk his way out, instincts tell him they don't intend to kill him. But who knows.
The footsteps begin to approach the door once more.
A slight wince from Trevor at the jangling chains. They're much louder in the quiet space. In an attempt to cover the sound of jangling chains, "Hey, uh, what's going on?" His head turns towards the footsteps, listening.
The door opens and someone steps in, adjusted to the darkness he sees someone, a uniform but, no badge? Nothing. The light is on and blinding again. "I have a few more questions, before we can allow you to depart." They say.
Trevor fiddles with the chains again, rattling them against the chair. "Ask away," he says. "Guess I don't got much to hide, really."
"What are you looking for in Haven, Mister McNulty." they ask, seated across from him, known by sound alone.
"Right with the tough questions!" Trevor chuckles lightly after the words. "Don't know yet, honestly." He stares ahead, where he suspects this mysterious figure to be. "Wanted to start new. Spent years listening to people order me around, got tired of it."
"Which dovetails in to my next question, why you left the military. If I pull your service record, will I see a willing discharge?" The voice asks, a hint of casualness in the tone.
"You should, yeah," Trevor takes a sharp breath in. "I listened." He exhales slowly, "Got some rule-following yelled into me."
"What did you see that changed things?" they ask suddenly, their voice quiet, perhaps dangerous. Perhaps this question means nothing to Trevor Or perhaps they know something.
"See?" There's a hint of curiosity in his tone. "I didn't see anything in particular that made a change." Trevor visibly relaxes, as best one can while chained to a chair anyway. "Didn't wake up to some big scandal," a pause, to once again, think things through. "Just felt it wasn't for me anymore. I signed up because I didn't like the freedom I had, then, realized I did enjoy it, just needed better discipline."
"Hm," the voice is disappointed, but no hammer seems to fall as a result. "Be good, McNulty. We will be watching. Keep your head down and this will be our last meeting," they declare, turning off the light as they begin to stride out.
Calling out to the receding figure, "Chains?" Trevor jangles them for added effect. "Can't really leave with these on."
The figure does not reply, the door shuts and then...the chains unlock. The anchor on the floor releases automatically.
"Huh, neat little trick." Trevor massages his wrists, standing from the chair.
As the room comes in to further focus he notices the walls are...steel?
Trevor wanders to an edge of the room, knuckles rapping against the wall. He listens for a heartbeat - nothing obvious seems to stand out to the man. "Good as place as any to interrogate someone.." He mutters mostly to himself.
The metal rattles, he is definitely not in a building. His instinct is correct on that.
The door lingers nearby, it sounded like a creaky metal one, but it looks like it might be a container door?
As the interrogation unfolds, Trevor's circumstances grow increasingly bizarre. He discovers he's in a room that resembles a police interrogation chamber, complete with a steel table, chair, and a two-way mirror. Cleverly, he attempts to leverage his military discipline and rule-following history to navigate through the questioning, which veers into personal territory about his departure from the military and his quest for a new beginning in Haven. His interrogators, whose identities and motives remain veiled, conclude the questioning with a cryptic warning for Trevor to keep his head down, hinting at unseen eyes monitoring his every move in Haven. The session ends with the mysterious unlocking of his chains, leaving Trevor free, yet confined within a metal structure that raises more questions than answers. His remarks about the suitability of the location for interrogation only underscore the surreal and tense experience he's just endured. Despite the ordeal, Trevor's curiosity and resilience suggest that his journey in Haven is far from over, and that the encounter may have deeper implications for his future in the city.
(Trevor's odd encounter(SRAlexander):SRAlexander)
[Tue Apr 2 2024]
In the clothing section of Savage Style
Reclaimed wooden recesses have been built into every available bit of the walls here with the exception of one, which holds a bird's-eye view of the city of Haven from above. Appearing to be hand-painted, the mural shows all the locales of the city in loving, minute detail. The recesses hold articles of clothing, both male and female. Drawers situated below the recesses hold folded items that have been painfully creased to perfection. A small table in the middle of this space offers silken ties and pocket squares along with a few pieces of racy lingerie.
Dangling from the ceiling from braided wiring are small signs directing customer traffic to other areas of the store. One points to the northeast and reads 'Purchase Counter', while the other points eastward and reads, 'Accessories and Exit'.
It is afternoon, about 49F(9C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Trevor finds himself chained to a chair. There's an obvious break in his memories. One moment browsing the clothing selection of Savage Style, the next he finds himself seated, in a dark room, chained to a chair, he can barely see out from.
Trevor blinks, eyes attempting to focus to the dark surroundings of the room he suddenly finds himself in. Inhaling a breath, Trevor manages to calm himself, setting his jaw.
A bright light turns on as he begins to regain consciousness. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and now he is unable to see, a bright pinpoint from the light, like a floodlight too close. It's warm too, making him sweat, adding insult, perhaps, to injury. "State your full name please," a voice formally asks of Trevor.
The sudden light causes Trevor to tilt his chin down, avoiding the brightness until his eyes adjust. Up comes his chin, after a few moments or so, searching the room for anything, any sign of the voice. "Trevor McNulty," despite the earlier panic he's found a calmness.
"And your rank in the Canadian military?" A voice asks of Trevor, flat, monotone.
"Not apart of it anymore, don't go by one." Trevor replies casually.
As time passes he can adjust to the light he can start to make out some details in the room. Steel table, chair, double sided glass. Almost looks like a police precinct interrogation room? "So you are no longer in active duty?" The voice acts Trevor.
The voice asks Trevor.
"No," Trevor says with a glance towards the glass, eyes narrowing - as he tries to make out any details behind the glass. "Did my time and felt it wasn't for me anymore."
"Do you have any assosciation with any paramilitary groups?" The voice asks firmly, almost cutting Trevor off as he explains.
"Couldn't tell you that," Trevor replies with a hint of arrogance to it. "Would be classified and all that, you know?"
He can see feet, only one other person appears to be in the room. "Are you familiar with the concept of Sanctuary, Trevor McNulty?" The voice seems to ignore his response.
"I'm aware of what the word means, yes." From behind, Trevor fiddles with the chains, trying to find some way out of them. "A place of safety."
"So, a man quits the military, leaving his home country behind to come to Haven. Nobody here knows you, no connections, but here you are." The voice now sounds vaguely feminine? The shoes suggest it but who really knows. It's something? At least? "Haven, as you may or may not know, has the largest number of unresolved disappearance in the world. Not that anyone records that information." Fingers drill on the table. "If you'd like, you could become a part of that unknown statistic."
"Or," it offers. "You could answer my questions to our satisfaction."
Trevor doesn't particularly have a lot of things going for him, but he also doesn't really have a lot of things to fight for. A silence from the man for a little as he mulls over the threat. "No, ma'am? Sir?" I have no connections with anything paramilitary." It seemed personal safety won the day in the end."
Trevor doesn't particularly have a lot of things going for him, but he also doesn't really have a lot of things to fight for. A silence from the man for a little as he mulls over the threat. "No, ma'am? Sir? I have no connections with anything paramilitary." It seemed personal safety won the day in the end.
The fingers stop drilling on the table. He sits in silence. Footsteps receed a door squeaks open, someone leaves, door slams shut, and Trevor is for the moment left in silence.
Trevor finds himself left alone, a minute drags into a collection of minutes. He has some recollection. There was a sharp pain, and then darkness? He must have been abducted? But who? Why? How does he use this time?
His eyes search the room, table first, then glass, then Trevor looks at the chair he's chained too. Clearly this someone has done homework in chaining people to chairs, he frowns - wrists struggling at the chains. Well, he's not getting out that way. Definitely seems like in this best interest to cooperate.
The chains jangle. The chains are not going to break, but maybe with enough effort...? But maybe he can talk his way out, instincts tell him they don't intend to kill him. But who knows.
The footsteps begin to approach the door once more.
A slight wince from Trevor at the jangling chains. They're much louder in the quiet space. In an attempt to cover the sound of jangling chains, "Hey, uh, what's going on?" His head turns towards the footsteps, listening.
The door opens and someone steps in, adjusted to the darkness he sees someone, a uniform but, no badge? Nothing. The light is on and blinding again. "I have a few more questions, before we can allow you to depart." They say.
Trevor fiddles with the chains again, rattling them against the chair. "Ask away," he says. "Guess I don't got much to hide, really."
"What are you looking for in Haven, Mister McNulty." they ask, seated across from him, known by sound alone.
"Right with the tough questions!" Trevor chuckles lightly after the words. "Don't know yet, honestly." He stares ahead, where he suspects this mysterious figure to be. "Wanted to start new. Spent years listening to people order me around, got tired of it."
"Which dovetails in to my next question, why you left the military. If I pull your service record, will I see a willing discharge?" The voice asks, a hint of casualness in the tone.
"You should, yeah," Trevor takes a sharp breath in. "I listened." He exhales slowly, "Got some rule-following yelled into me."
"What did you see that changed things?" they ask suddenly, their voice quiet, perhaps dangerous. Perhaps this question means nothing to Trevor Or perhaps they know something.
"See?" There's a hint of curiosity in his tone. "I didn't see anything in particular that made a change." Trevor visibly relaxes, as best one can while chained to a chair anyway. "Didn't wake up to some big scandal," a pause, to once again, think things through. "Just felt it wasn't for me anymore. I signed up because I didn't like the freedom I had, then, realized I did enjoy it, just needed better discipline."
"Hm," the voice is disappointed, but no hammer seems to fall as a result. "Be good, McNulty. We will be watching. Keep your head down and this will be our last meeting," they declare, turning off the light as they begin to stride out.
Calling out to the receding figure, "Chains?" Trevor jangles them for added effect. "Can't really leave with these on."
The figure does not reply, the door shuts and then...the chains unlock. The anchor on the floor releases automatically.
"Huh, neat little trick." Trevor massages his wrists, standing from the chair.
As the room comes in to further focus he notices the walls are...steel?
Trevor wanders to an edge of the room, knuckles rapping against the wall. He listens for a heartbeat - nothing obvious seems to stand out to the man. "Good as place as any to interrogate someone.." He mutters mostly to himself.
The metal rattles, he is definitely not in a building. His instinct is correct on that.
The door lingers nearby, it sounded like a creaky metal one, but it looks like it might be a container door?