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Violent-Medic
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Now she was in a… room. There was a chair? Maybe? Clarice couldn’t see shit. If only she had a source of—

“Oh, right.”

Clarice tried to open her bag so she could retrieve her flashlight, having forgotten that she even had one. Her attempt to do so with just her good arm, however, only resulted in her accidentally slipping the strap off her shoulder and letting the bag plop into the disgusting water.

“Fucking bullshit,” she muttered under her breath, crouching down to retrieve it. As she did so, she heard a faint sloshing noise from the path she’d just taken here.

Noise here, noise there. No-one saying anything.

That didn’t sit well. Clarice didn’t end up retrieving her flashlight, only slinging the bag back on her shoulder and continuing to squint in the darkness. If there were people around, not calling out or responding… maybe that meant a trap. She wouldn’t want to shine a light if it was.

Although… she supposed they already knew she was here.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, squinting fruitlessly in the dark. All she could make out was the vague silhouette of that chair.

Which looked a little people shaped, now that she really looked at it.

“Uh. Hi?”
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The show starts at five. Bring snacks. · Electroshock Therapy