Yarrr

Who: PMs to Svetlana, Brett, Will, Joy
Where: Where else?
When: Morning

Hannah woke up surprisingly refreshed - no annoying reset, no creepy noises in her room, the bed was comfortable and no one was bothering her. This isolation thing had some (short term, at least) benefits. She lounged around and cuddled with Anubis for a few moments, enjoying the feeling, then got up to go to the bathroom and perhaps some breakfast after. Or at least, she would have done those things if she hadn't hit a closed door where a closed door should not have been.

Grumbling to herself - she was pretty sure she'd gotten the simple floorplan down yesterday, there was not supposed to be a door here - she reached for the handle and found it locked. "Seriously?" she muttered to the cameras she was sure were there, sighing heavily. Feeling around for a key or clue resulted in a keypad, into which she punched a variety of combinations that had significance to her. Sadly (and predictably), none of them worked. "God, fine," she said, exasperated.

Un-silencing her computers, she checked each of the four for messages but came up empty. On a whim, she checked the one in the center and listened to the message with what would have likely been a very comical expression of mixed irritation, bewilderment, and very faint amusement, had anyone been looking. Because she was hungry and she had to pee, but... well, the two names were kind of funny. Playing the message again to memorize the names, she first tried the code on her own keypad before moving to each of the four computers to send a message, hoping the previously silent fourth contact would speak up today. With her luck, that person would be the one she needed to get into the damn bathroom and she'd end up having to pee in a corner because they wouldn't answer.

Okay, so apparently today my name is Pirate Lea the Cash-Strapped. Which is a misnomer, as I'm definitely not broke but I guess that means shit in here, so whatever. Anyway, I got a whacked out message advising me to 'do what I will' with Gnaarrgh "Bondage Ninja" the Mostly Rotted 6881. That make sense to anyone? I assume it's the keys to the kingdom, so to speak, assuming you all woke up with blocked-off kitchen and bathroom facilities like I did. Oh, and the first bit of the name may not be completely accurate - I had to transcribe by sound - but really, how many 'Bondage Ninjas' could we have?

 - ..

Joy screamed as the second computer began beeping at her. Running over, she typed a similar message to the first one without even reading the message that was already there. She wasn't interested in chit chat.

GIVE MET HE FUCKGING PASSWORD YOU BASTERDS

 - .

Hannah was glad to be getting responses already, though that faded fast when she actually got to hear the reply - from her previously silent conversational partner, at that. (Though really, could you call someone a conversational partner when there had been no conversation? She left that thought for later and sent a reply.)

Calm the fuck down, crazypants. Unless you're Bondage Ninja or whatever, I don't have your goddamn password. Maybe try sending out some useful information instead of flipping and foaming at the mouth. Christ, I hope they didn't lock your meds in the kitchen, too.

 - ..

Joy tried to calm herself down. She wasn't going to get anywhere screaming through the computer.

No, just teh fucking booze . Can't get in the john either. Not Bonadage Ninja either. They're telling me my name is Lazy Eye Jo or someshit.

 - .

Whose code were you given? We're all going to have to play fucking telephone if we want to get this shit straightened out, so might as well start trying to sort it out now. If you get someone with a Bondage Ninja on your computers, pass along the code. The sooner we can make a match, the sooner we'll all know if we're on the right track with this or if we should just stop wasting our time.

 - .

Svetlana was firmly under the belief that if you just didn't play the scientists games, they would eventually get bored of you and give in, and then try something new. It had become her survival mechanism in isolation and she assumed it would wor here too. She didn't like the snarky computer girl, but it would be best to let her now not to waste her time - if anything to stop the buzzy noise of getting a new message, which although quiet and unobtrusive was starting to get irritating.

The code won't do anything. They're playing with us. We'll eat when they want us to eat

 - .

Hannah rolled her eyes when she received the message. Bastards had let people die before, what were a few more if they wanted to just sit in their rooms and starve? Well, she wasn't going out like that.

I'll eat when I fucking feel like it and not when they say. You don't play and they'll just as likely let you starve to death. Put aside your misconceived martyr tendencies and pass along the messages like a good girl, okay? I have to piss and I'm not going to do it like an animal in a fucking corner.

 - .

Brent had a hangover, and the pinging of the computers wasn't helping that at all. Especially when it wasn't from one of the computers that he really wanted to hear from. He levered himself out of bed and into his chair, settling himself before heading over to the computers and reading the message there. He went back and checked what the fuck Hannah was talking about before returning and replying. Yeah, got that too. I'm something to go with being Rotten - far too many vowels in the other parts and I don't have a pen to write that shit down. I also have another name for Porthole Jackie something and a number - 4845.

 - .

I'll pass it on. Get ready for a fucking long day of this bullshit - with my luck, one of the two morons I've been talking to is going to be responsible for my code and I'll never get in. One of them is just screaming for me to give them the code (wouldn't it be nice if it worked like that) and the other one is talking shit about how the code won't work and they'll feed us when they want to feed us. Christ.