. . . shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s Thursday. Tonight’s enchilada night, made lovingly by his girlfriend. It’s the only night they get together, seeing as how he works the nightshift as a security guard at his local zoo and she works the evening shift as a waitress in some greasy spoon. He looks at the poor beer selection, almost sullenly. He’s tired of the same, crappy brands week in and week out. Frankly, he’s almost tired of enchiladas. He wants something new for Thursdays, but he’s not sure what.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a young man in a hoodie walks up to Devac and silently hands him a plastic bag before walking away without saying a word. Curious, he looks into the bag to find a cheap, plastic safety razor, a can of shaving foam, $5,000, and a slip of paper with an address on one side and a house key taped to the other side.
Devac looks back up to discover the young man in the hoodie is now nowhere in sight.
You look around the liquor aisle to see only one other person, a middle age man with two different bottles of wine in his hand, clearly trying to figure out which bottle of cheap merlot will taste less awful. It is readily apparent that he is engrossed in his current dilemma, oblivious to everything else around him. You look back down at the slip of paper. Porter street. It’s halfway across town, but you know this early in the afternoon there’s little traffic. You’re confident you can get there within a half hour at the most.
Making a mental note to stop at another liquor store on your way back, you put the car in reverse and begin to back out of the parking lot. You turn on your radio and resume listening to the cd your girlfriend burned for you last month. You skip through the first couple songs, resuming when you get to a personal favorite of yours. The Red Hot Chili Peppers always made you enjoy the drive a little more. Exiting a roundabout and heading East on Jackson Ave, you suddenly get the strangest feeling of deja vu. That silver Hyundai was there last night, wasn't it? Brushing it off, as you must've driven this road a hundred times, you continue towards Porter street and the address on the note.
Howdy. I don't want you to feel left out or cut off or anything, but this is kind of a two man game/experiment thingy going on. I love that you're interested though and if this goes well, I'd love to do it again. If I do, do you wanna do it with me? :)
Gotcha! I should've guessed from the rather specific title :) Yeah, this seems fun. Though I'm not sure I understand yet, is the idea to tell a story between multiple people, or to have a D&D relationship, where one person knows the world and another controls a character in that world?
It's more of a DM/Single Player session. That's due partly to the probably difficulty of having multiple players on a platform lime Hubski, lack of tools such as dice (yes, I know there are ways around that in the internet), etc. That said, some of the beat D&D sessions I've had have never had a dice roll, so I'm trying to capture that kind if energy here. For Devac's sake, he's doing an awesome job.
As you’re driving along, you can’t help but think about the contents of the bag. A razor. Shaving foam. More money than you make in two months of work. You know you don’t want to admit it, but you know someone wants you to do something. There’s just so many questions. What do they want you to do? Why do they want you to do it? Why the lack of instructions? Why the cloak and dagger act? This isn’t some movie, some game. This is your life. This is Thursday. Suddenly, enchiladas don’t seem so bad. As you follow the GPS on your phone, driving across the city, you pass by so many familiar districts. The college campus and the surrounding bars, shops, and off campus housing. The warehouse district, somehow still bustling with activity despite the recession. As you get closer to Porter, you realize you’re in a part of town you’ve never been before. The streets are luxurious and well paved. The houses are massive, with well kept yards, some even with fountains or private ponds. You can only begin to wonder what kind of lives the people who live here must lead. Your wondering stops, as the GPS on your phone leads you to a gated community. A spike of panic shoots through you as the guard at the gate looks up, making eye contact with you. Without hesitating, he presses a button on the console in front of him. The gates begin to open. The guard does not take his eyes off of you.
As you step inside, you hear the mewing of a cat. Looking down, you see the most beautiful persian you've ever seen in your whole life. It's white fur is meticulously well groomed, soft and light that you can't help yourself but to kneel down and pet it at least once. Mewing again, it looks up at you, it's eyes a bright grey blue, like a the sky during a clear winter's day. The cat begins to go further inside the house and you feel compelled to follow it as it leads you into a room down the hall. You watch is jump onto a stand next to a trophy case, inside it's brimming with blue ribbons, trophies of various sizes, and newspaper clippings about cat shows of all types, local, state, national, even international. Every single article has a picture of the cat, from the caption you learn it's name is "Serenity." You say the name outloud, barely a whisper, as you turn to look the cat in the eye, your hand clutching the bag with such force your knuckles turn white. Suddenly, things start to make a lot of sense.
As you leave the complex the security guard once again makes eye contact with you, continuing to watch as you drive out of the gates. Feeling his gaze burning a hole in the back of your head, you look into your rear view mirror to see him continuing to watch you leave as he speaks on the phone to some unknown person. With the exception of a slight uptick in afternoon traffic, your drive home is uneventful. Seeing your girlfriend's car in her parking spot fills you with a sense of relief.