Ahh, back from PAX and sufficiently exhausted from the experience. Not too tired to write another piece of the story though! Chapter 3 should be a bit of a turning point for the plot, I think. Expect some exposure on what’s going on, and perhaps a new character. If you’d like to help build the story, feel free to comment with your musings and suggestions. There are plenty of ways to do it, just check the feature hub if you’re unsure.
Enjoy!
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Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Sam opened his eyes and swung his arm at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Rather than turn off the beeping though, his hand knocked the clock onto the floor and out of his reach. His stare of betrayal did nothing to bring it closer, so with a groan of annoyance he pulled himself out of bed and picked it up.
After switching off the piercing noise, he rubbed his face and got up to walk to the bathroom but instead stubbed his toe on his end table. With a stifled curse, he fell backwards onto his bed and turned on the light, waiting for the pain to subside. He looked at the end of his bed where Jinx was curled up, asleep. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, not really expecting a response. The black cat obliged.
He still had not become accustomed to his new living arrangements, and looking around the room, he wondered if he ever would. It was nice that all of his belongings had been transferred to the new apartment, but it was smaller than his old one, so he had had to tweak his furniture layout. That, and the fact he did not want to be there in the first place did not exactly make him feel like growing used to his surroundings.
He got up and again made for his bathroom, carefully skirting any furniture that looked like it would jump in his path again. It had been almost two weeks since he had been brought here. Two weeks, and no mention of why he had been brought here. He had been confined to the living quarters section of the building the whole time, so he had been forced to call Kessel and cancel plans with him and Victoria.
Standing in the shower, he started planning out his twelfth day of unexplained house arrest. There wasn’t much to do aside from cooking his meals and making use of the recreation room. The kitchen was stocked with all manner of food, and if he needed anything that wasn’t readily available, all he needed was to order it from the terminal and it would be in the refrigerator within the hour.
The recreation room was similarly fully equipped. From game devices, to complete satellite television programming, to a gym area with weights and exercise machines, he found himself passing time quite easily, despite the frustration of his circumstances.
He was allowed to call out or email anyone he wished, but other than that Sam had not had any contact with anyone since Lt. Cartwright and Eric Tanner had deposited him here almost two weeks ago. And Jinx was only company until Sam actually wanted a conversation. He had tried to call Kess and Vikki at times, but Kess had this weird thing about talking on the phone, and Vikki was usually busy with something for her job.
Though he was feeling a bit isolated, Sam was actually enjoying the relaxation despite the confusing situation. He had started using the gym equipment and was feeling healthier because of it. The fully stocked kitchen was also giving him excuses to try out new meal ideas (with varying results). He had been sleeping better than he had since moving away from home. Each night he dreamt of adventure and romance like he had when he was younger. He had taken to recording his dreams in a notebook on a whim and was thinking of getting into drawing again, to see if he could recreate any of his late night visions.
He toweled himself off, got dressed and walked to his room’s entrance. The door’s sensor picked up on his presence and swished open.
Eric Tanner stood on the other side, arms clasped behind his back. “Good morning, Mr. Lalonde.”
Sam grimaced bitterly. He should have known when he stubbed his toe that this was going to be a bad day. “Mr. Tanner. Finally come to tell me what’s going on?” He was expecting a shadowy remark, something to divert attention. Maybe something mean about his cat.
But Eric Tanner got right to the point, “Yes.”