Murder Mystery RP [Ch. 1] Despair Mansion

The door to his compact and shoddy looking apartment opens slowly, creaking as it swings. A man enters, holding just a few brown paper bags filled with various foodstuffs, mostly instant ramen packs, bread and sweets. It isn't much, but it'll last him through the month. He manages to pull an amazing balancing act off very slowly as he waddles to his only table in the apartment. He carefully places the bags down and begins to look through them, taking a box of cookies out and ripping into them like a starving animal. He plops down on his lonely chair, the sound of it's squeaking mixes with the crunch of the cookies. He lets out a sigh and instead of making himself just a bit more comfortable, stands once more and walks around the small apartment. Checking the windows and the door over for any signs of tampering. This is his life. He leaves once at the start of the month to find his sustenance and then returns to his hovel. He passes by his window in the kitchen and freezes on the spot as a cool fall breeze makes its way through. The curtains blowing ever so daintily and the outside world greeting him would usually be something he'd just shrug off, but this time, something is wrong.

I closed you before I left. You're never open while I'm not here. Did I forget? No, I'd never forget. I'm always sure to lock up. His eyes grow wide as he shoves his head out. The sun outside greets him with a smile, but he refuses to return it. He cannot see any signs of forced entry, which is even stranger to him. Maybe he did, for once in his life, forget to lock the window? or even shut it? Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain hit the back of his head as he pulls it back into the safety of his apartment. At first, he believes he had just smacked it on the window sill, but this pain is too much for that. He feels someone's hand on the back of his collar and a force pulls him all the way back. His body drops to the ground in a heap and through the haze of his vision he barely makes out a masked man who begins to seemingly speak to himself. "Target Conway has been captured, bringing him in now." The masked man must realize that Conway is still conscious, because he lays his boot into Conway's head. Making Conway lose consciousness completely.

With a stir, Conway wakes up. His vision and his memory are still hazy, but once time begins to pass, his vision returns and he begins to piece together what he had just gone through. He sits up and looks around. He is in a room that is not his own. In fact, this room is a stark contrast to his entire apartment. He looks to the bed and the bedside tables, the rugs, the window and finally the large oak door. Everything about this room screams wealth and opulence, but where exactly is this room? Where exactly is he? He stands, timidly and a third table in the room catches his eye. Not so much the table, but the brilliant white piece of paper on the table. He walks up to it and stretches out a shaking hand to it. The feel of the paper is very real and the words on the paper are even more so. Every detail about him is on this piece of paper, down to when he leaves the apartment. Someone had been watching him for quite a long time to be able to get this much information on him.

He begins to shake in fear as he continues to read everything on the page. He crumples the paper up and throws it to the other end of the room. He rushes to the oak door, trying for the handle first. Despite the amount of power he puts into turning the handle, it does not yield. He then begins to bang on it with both of his fists. His banging is interrupted by a voice breaking the silence in between. "The Master has given you all that you need to escape." A very proper voice says. Conway turns with a shudder, expecting this new voice to cave his skull in with some blunt object. This expectation is shattered as Conway gazes upon a pretty generic looking butler. A tall man wearing a suit and tie stands before him. He wears a monocle over one eye and a mustache caresses his upper lip. With a flourish, the butler bows to him. During this flourish, Conway notices something a bit off. As if the butler's body had detached from itself and had quickly caught up in a split second.

"If you wish to leave this room, find the keycard associated with the lock on your door. Please do not cause this structure any harm." The Butler says as he returns to his regular standing position. He points to the "lock" placed on the side of the oak door. It resembles a credit card scanner. "You may leave once you find the keycard." The Butler continues.

Conway looks around the room and then nods to the Butler. He has no choice but to go along with whatever this strange man wants. "Alright, I get to leave this room once I find the keycard. What will I find outside this room?" Conway asks in a shaken tone. "You will have to leave to find out." The Butler says vaguely with what Conway translates as a sinister smile. Conway blinks and as if the Butler was a ghost, leaves in a flash. Without any retaliation, Conway begins to search for his key out. Eventually, he finds it under the pillows on the bed. He rushes to the lock on the door and swipes the card. A ringing sound envelopes the room. A confirmation sound follows and the sound of the lock disengaging is the last sound to echo. Conway's hand finds the handle on the door once again and it gives way. The door opens and he steps on through. His eyes dart around nervously as he begins to take in his surroundings. He's placed in a boxed in area with a wooden guardrail placed just a few steps in front of him. He looks down both sides of the walkway to find more doors that lead into rooms that he has no doubt looks similar to the one he woke up in.

He looks across the guardrail to the other side of the large room to see even more doors placed. He looks above to see a grandiose chandelier above the cut out area, staring down the floor below him. He walks up to the guardrail and looks down to see greenery set up with seating facing the plants and the planters. Everywhere he looks he sees something that he could only ever dream of having. He leaves his spot at the rail and walks to one end that appears to lead out into a grand staircase. He takes each step timidly and once he's down the stairs and onto the first floor, he sees a set of windows. He may not have noticed it before in the room he had woken up in, but he is noticing it now. These windows are boarded up with large metal plates. This brings a sinister contrast to what he had seen before. Why would... the windows be blocked? He thinks to himself, walking up to it to get a better look at the thing obstructing his vision of the outside.

"Please make your way to the seating area and wait for the others, sir." The now familiar voice breaks his concentration. With a jump he turns to the butler and notices he is gesturing around the corner, he assumes the Butler means the area with the greenery and so he follows orders and heads there. He takes a seat on a couch and is surprised at how soft and comfortable it is. He begins rubbing his head from where the masked man had kicked him, and to his surprise feels no welt. He checks his pants pockets for his wallet and finds it. Why am I not freaking out more? What is going on? His leg begins to bounce up and down impatiently as he waits for "the others".

Cade's eyes wander a bit around where he is seated. He can see the exit plain as day. The golden siding attached to the door beckons to him. He ponders if he could even get out. In this sort of situation on television, as he's seen, the main character would either try to take his assailant down and make a mad dash for the door, only to find it locked to his chagrin. He would look for other opportunities, but for Cade, the only other solutions he can see are what appears to be a glassed off outdoor area that looks as if the building continues on the other side. He bites his lip in contemplation. His assailant, by the looks of things in his room, wasn't real. Maybe this entire situation isn't real and "the others" this man had been speaking of were just his friends and family trying to pull one over on him.

If he had any friends that would be a possibility.

Phillip found himself sat on one of the comfiest leather couches he had ever experienced. Since he had woken up, spent twenty minutes searching his new room and exited finally, he had come to enjoy the house he now found himself in. Sure, the way he had arrived here was absolutely suspicious but with this amount of wealth and opulence around him, there was no doubt in his mind that he was here for some kind of business deal. So he sat here now on this lovely leather couch and waited as he had been instructed for the 'others' that would apparently be joining him

Cade notices another dapper looking man seated in the same area as him. He must not have noticed the man at first. Feeling a bit of anxiety well up inside of him, he hunches over, trying to make himself look invisible. He wonders who the man is. He feels as though he is in league with the butler. Of course, he could also be one of "the others" the butler had mentioned before. Regardless, he wasn't going to be the one to initiate a conversation.

Phillip smiled jovially at the man seated nearby. He assumed more would be coming, though how he had missed this man when he entered the room was obvious. The man looked half scared to death. Phillip assumed that he must just be a ledger of some kind. Probably to record the meeting down.

"They've done very well for themselves, haven't they?" He asked the man rhetorically. "What sort of business are they in? Oil or land?"

If Cade could shrivel up any more, he would after the new man had spoken. Cade takes note of the accent and comes to the conclusion that he must be from somewhere in the United Kingdom. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it once or twice before finally answering with a stuttered pattern.

"K-kidnapping is m-more likely." Cade says with fear in his tone. His guard lowers ever so slightly as he takes in the words, thinking that maybe this man wasn't with the butler. What kind of delusions could this man have to compliment our attackers? He looks over at the man as questions come to his head. Why are you so calm? What's going on in your head?

"Kidnappers?" Phillip laughed. "Well I understand that some of our global a like their privacy." He leaned closer to the man. "To be entirely honest, it's not the first time I've been in this situation." Phil laughed again and leant back in his chair. "So when will they be down? I assume it's for some advertising?"

"Wh-what are you e-even on about? Advertising? You've been in th-this situation before?" Cade looks at the man quizzically. "You were k-kidnapped weren't you?" Cade asks frantically. "You w-were assaulted and knocked out, weren't you?" He says, recalling the most important parts about how he got where he was. He still doesn't know exactly how long he had been knocked out for before he woke up, but this new bit of information provided by the man sat beside him makes him drop the idea that his family or any other person he knew had this set up.

"Assaulted? Knocked out?" Phillip looked at the man with caution now. "You do work for them, don't you? Like a ledger of some kind?" He raised his eyebrows at the guy.

"Of course I don't work for them." Cade says, shifting a seat further away form the strange man. "I was taken from my apartment and woke up here." He points an accusing finger at his current companion. "Do you work for them? Your story makes it seem like you just waltzed here with them." He says, his frantic fear turning into anger.

"Please, refrain from yelling in the main hall. Some of your companions have not awoken." A familiar voice follows Cade's. The Butler appears before the both of them and gives a dignified bow as a greeting. "There may be some misunderstanding." He says as he returns to his standing position. "Please allow me to field any questions you may have. Just know that I will not answer certain questions until everyone has arrived." Cade's eyes grow wide and his mouth closes.

Phillip eyed the nervous man with contempt whilst he spoke to the Butler. "Oh good, someone who does know what's going on. So is it advertising you want us for or what? I imagine it's a high profile role if I've been called in."

The Butler's monocled eye faces the man unknown to Cade and gives a light laugh. "Oh, no, Mr. Schofield. The master would not like you to advertise for him. The master has given strict orders to gather you all here to see your response to the position we will put you in." The Butler says as a sinister looking grin appears on his face. "But any information regarding that aspect of your stay here will be covered as your companions join you." His smile fades as his face seems to reset before he asks, "Are there any other questions you would like answered?"

Cade speaks up, "Our stay here? What do you mean by that?"

The Butler looks towards Cade and answers, "It is exactly how it sounds, Mr. Conway. You and your associates will be staying here for an undetermined amount of time or until the master becomes bored with you." Another sinister smile plasters itself on his face.

Phillip settled further into the couch he was seated on. "Well, since we're here for a while, we might as well get comfortable." He said to the nervous man whom the Butler had called Mr. Conway. "Could we get some entrées and maybe a drink?" He then asked of the Butler.

"Wh-what!? "Get comfortable!?"" Cade shouts at the man designated as Mr. Schofield. "You're crazy!" He turns his attention to the Butler's location and catches him mid bow. "No, you're letting me out. You're letting us all out." He points to the door looming over the seating area. "It's locked no doubt, yeah? Open it."

"I am afraid that will not be possible, Mr. Conway." The Butler answers Cade's frantic, fear ridden demands with a cool head. "It is the Master's will. Think of it like an experiment." He says with a smile. A snap of his fingers ring out and suddenly the group of three turn into a group of six with three maids joining them from a door on the far side of the room leading into another room. Cade could catch a vague glimpse of a table and chairs. Perhaps it would be a dining room. There are trays of food and drink in each of their hands. Tables begin to rise in front of the seats as well and they place the trays of food and drink on said tables. These maids are dressed in very formal looking black and white dresses to match the Butler's fashion sense. They also look very similar to one another, to which Cade takes notice. They all share a vacant stare behind their dark brown eyes. Triplets? He asks himself. They remove the lids of the trays to reveal glasses of water and extravagant food stuffs from a variety of cultures.

"Eat to your heart's content, sirs. We have a virtually unlimited supply of resources at our disposal to serve you. It is truly the ideal situation you will live in." The Butler says, pointing his words at Cade. "I would invite you to the dining hall, but maybe the sweet scent of our delicacies will entice the rest of your associates. I hope you understand." The Butler as well as the three maids all take a bow and once they return to their standing positions, the maids take their leave.

Phillip rubbed his hands happily at the food. "To tell you the truth, your lot interrupted me just as I'd been about to make dinner and I've been hungry ever since I woke up. Say. One last question. How many people will there be joining us?" He asked as he stabbed a fork into a sausage that was teetering on the edge of a mound of mashed potato and gravy.

"We have quite the number of guests. It is my hope they are as agreeable as you are to our little arrangement, Mr. Schofield." The Butler answers without giving a specific number. Cade, once again, feels as though his words were pointed towards him and his current behavior. He pays the words, as well as the food, no mind. Taking a more cautious approach, he refuses to eat. It might be laced with poisons. I'm not risking that. He thinks to himself. If this Schofield guy really trusts this madman with the food presented to him, he's a fool.

"Come now, Mr. Conway. How do you expect to survive on an empty stomach?" The Butler says in a disappointing tone of voice. "It isn't poisoned, if that is your worry."

Survive? Why would he choose that word? Cade thinks to himself once more. Suddenly the sound of hunger erupts from his stomach and his cheeks turn a shade of red in embarrassment. Despite this, he continues to refuse the food.

Phil took a large bite out the sausage he had skewered on his fork, enjoying the soft, savoury taste of the herbs contained within. The mash that it had come with was silky and smooth and the gravy was so rich and thick that Phillip reckoned you could swim in it. And this was only one dish. Laid out on the table were around a dozen others. He broke down a dam of rice, allowing the pork satay on the other side to flow over the breach and onto his spoon. It was soft and yet hadn't lost an ounce of flavour during the cooking.

Hunger isn't the only thing that hits Cade. He hadn't payed too much attention to it, but now that some of the excitement had calmed down, the feeling hits him like a truck. "Are there any restrooms on this floor?" Cade asks the Butler. A very to the point question to which the Butler replies, "The majority of restrooms are located within your rooms. There is one connected to the Lounge, but that would require a fair walk."

"Who in the hell designed this place?" Cade mutters to himself while standing. He takes to the staircase and climbs them. He doesn't hear the protests of the Butler if there were any as he leaves the two behind. He makes it to the second floor and passes the doors, trying every single handle to see if they would open. Without a shred of luck, they don't bend to his will. He enters the room that he had woken up in and hurries to a door on the far side of the bed. He opens it and performs his business.

He exits and takes a once over of the room for any evidence he may have missed. He must have overturned everything while searching, but once again, he has no luck in finding out anything. The only thing left is the paper he had read earlier with all of his information on it. He let's out a frustrated sigh and scratches his head furiously, trying to make it come up with some logical explanation as to why he was put in this situation. Did I piss someone off while browsing some imageboard? He laughs at the thought of some ritzy manchild with nothing better to do than to waste his time on an imageboard.