Well, there goes the neighbourhood.

Who: Owen
Where: The room of doom!
When: morning

Owen woke up in hell. He’d never been the type of guy to go from asleep to alert instantly, so he woke up groggy, rubbing at his eyes and wincing when his hands cramped. He reached over for the advil, needing the pain relief and just stopped when his hand met empty air.

Waking up then felt like cold water being poured down his spine. Owen sat bolt upright, hands gripping the blankets of the bed, heart shuddering in his chest.

The room looked like an artist’s wet dream. There were art supplies everywhere, from canvases stacked against the wall his bed was on, next to a computer. Clarkson was on her perch by a window which led...outside? There was an open door at the far end of the room, so he scrambled out of bed, forgoing his gloves in his effort to get the hell –outside-.

What he saw there was almost amazing, if he was in the frame of mind to think of it as such. An expanse of grass with a running track cut into it, the track heading around the outer edges of the grass patch. The room he’d been in was in actuality a miniature house, with a flat roof and what looked like a bathroom attached to the left hand side. It –looked- like outside, with a blue sky and everything. The only thing that ruined the illusion was a computer set off to the side of the grass. When he turned, he saw another one, and his stomach clenched.

“What the FUCK?”

Nobody answered him. The idea that he was alone smacked him in the chest and he sat down like a puppet with its strings cut, heart feeling like it was going to thud out of his chest. He hadn’t been really, really alone since he’d been taken out of the first experiment. And he had to admit it was the first because this just wasn’t –normal-. But now, now he was alone, and Clarkson didn’t even seem to help. She was flapping about and having a look around the room, like any regular parrot would have done and he’d like to have her there. He was –glad- she was in the same room with him at all, because they could’ve taken her and he wouldn’t have known how to deal with that.

The computers looked new. He sat there for a moment before pulling his shit together, pushing himself up and wincing as the scar tissue pulled, heading over to the computer on the far wall. If there were these two, there might be more. If there was a chance he could contact people before he drove himself absolutely insane with loneliness, it’d be a start.

One of the computers already had a message blinking. He replied to that first, asking who they were and what was going on before heading off to investigate the others, stomach doing a sick twist when he counted FIVE computers, one of them in the god damn bathroom. He left a message on the other three, eyeing the one on the centre for a moment before trying that one too.

And now, to run around and check them. It would have the added bonus of exhausting him and it’d mean that he could sleep and –not- notice that there was nobody else in the immediate vicinity and maybe, just MAYBE he’d get to keep his sanity. Just a little bit.