Sunday, July 03, 2005

I'm in a dank back room being tortured by a demonic creature (much like Sarevok from Baldur's Gate). I and my fellow captives are being flayed & physically taken apart as the sadist creature enjoys himself. We've also been injected with substances that makes us cooperate & not feel the pain.

Later, during another torture session, he has his back turned to me as he's doing something to one of the captors. In front of me is laid out some small instruments of torture, mostly small drill bits and pieces of screwdrivers. I want to stab him with these but am afraid he'll be immune to the damage. I struggle with the decision but do nothing.

Later, he tells us he is going away and for us to behave. We are all drugged up and feeling defeated. He turns himself into a baby and lies in a basket waiting to be taken away. I start scrambling to assemble my fellow captives and discuss strategies for killing our tormentor. I want to kill the baby version of him but I'm not sure he still isn't around in some other form.

I run into the nearby restaurant that he owns. I wrest the menu from the head waiter as he shows me the specials page. All of us captives are listed as specials. My panic grows to a fever pitch as I try to assemble everyone. Brent Steen, a customer in the restaurant, tells me he's had some of the specials and that they're very good. I speculate that they're being served parts and pieces of us gathered from the torture sessions.

I yell for all employees to gather outside on the deck of the boat. I amend that request to all "board members." I see the restaurant clearing out of employees and I ask someone what's happening? Someone tells me that they're clearing out because Leilani (one of my allies) began shooting videotape of the place. I continue running to the boat, trying to think of strategies to fight back. Along the way, a young woman (Crystal from UK's art dept.) asks me if she can franchise what she's doing (an extension of the creature's tortures) and I tell her no and keep running.

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