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Post by SceneMod on May 23, 2012 10:56:29 GMT -5
OOC: Any character who wishes to participate in this subplot may post in here. His or her last memory would be of eating whatever his or her favorite food indulgence is.
The sound of gears grinding provides heavy background noise to the regular clack clack clack of a clock ticking off the seconds. The air is heavy with scents of sugar, vanilla, and spice. Scattered throughout the clock tower are clear-walled cubicles, mini-kitchens stocked to the brim with patisserie supplies and ingredients. In the middle of each cubicle is an unconscious individual.
Steps lead up to a platform which rests against the back of the giant clock. On that platform stands a rather unimposing figure in a gray chef's coat and bowler hat. The Sweet King stares out over Detroit and waits for his contestants to wake.
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Post by Springer/Stella Ringer on May 23, 2012 22:12:15 GMT -5
Stella is a woman of simple, if frequent, appetites. Hamburgers. Hot dogs. Fried chicken. Apple pie.
She wakes up with the taste of Thin Mints in her mouth and the memory of rejoicing in Carbombya when a care package containing some of that mint chocolate goodness arrived. Mint is just the best, because it tastes like green.
Stella leaps to her feet and ends up slamming her head on the ceiling. She lands on her feet and staggers around, dazed, clutching her head and swearing up a blue storm, before she realises, "Oh, >fire truck<, I've been kidnapped and taken to an undisclosed location by a madman again."
She checks the most important thing.
"Gun's gone. ...I'll make him pay."
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Post by Seaspinner/Susannah Webber on May 24, 2012 9:22:38 GMT -5
Susannah is a woman of... higher class tastes, one might say, though more out of nurture than nature. She's really been trying to feed herself lately, but she occasionally gets fed up with her limited culinary abilities and relapses. Why, the last thing she remembers is enjoying deliciously rare medallions of beef tenderloin with blue crab, grilled asparagus, and a chive whipped potato at one of Detroit's high-end restaurants!
She can still taste the savory red juices on her tongue, but she's certainly no longer in the restaurant with no clue as to how that happened. She'd hadn't even finished her usual single cup of wine! Surely the terrible effects of overindulging in alcohol that her parents had warned her of couldn't have gotten her! Could people make wine with significantly more alcohol than usual?
"Oh dear, oh my," Susannah says, slowly climbing to her feet and brushing off her long skirt - it's a rather reserved wave pattern in several shades of blue - with gloved hands. She's in... a kitchen? How very surreal.
Peering through the clear dividing walls, she calls a confused, "Hello?"
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Post by Impactor/"Imp" on May 24, 2012 19:31:09 GMT -5
One might assume that Imp's favorite food is brains, and one would be wrong. Brains is what Imp has to eat to keep from going shambling, but they really taste awful.
No, Imp's favorite food, besides beer (which kind of qualifies) is really greasy eggs, bacon, and hash browns (there's a reason she was at Denny's when that fight broke out). That's what she had been eating when she fell unconscious.
She wakes up, shaking her head and grumbling, "Oh, for the love of-" If she were still Impactor, she could easily see herself as a target worth going after, but who cares this much about her now?
Her chain is missing, but it's pretty hard to get her hook away from her, so she still has that.
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Hellbender
Major
Mecha-Shai-Hulud
"Seriously."
Posts: 892
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Post by Hellbender on May 25, 2012 11:37:21 GMT -5
Donal Costigan was enjoying his first evening out at a nice restaurant in some weeks. Work had been fast and furious and he'd been piling up massive overtime on Victoria's project--and getting paid handsomely for it, too. Still, company cafeteria food gets old when it's the only thing you eat for days on end, and Donal had given himself a much-needed break last night at one of Detroit's best steakhouses.
So what the hell is he doing here? This isn't his bedroom! He didn't remember anything beyond that fine steak, but he didn't remember feeling faint or groggy or being hit on the head, either. He's not blinded by the light; his shades are still there.
Donal raises himself to a sitting position and cracks his neck before rising to his feet and stretching. No one is immediately attacking him, and laying on the floor unconscious makes him feel stiff and creaky. Not to mention he apparently slept in his dinner clothes: western-style suit jacket & string tie, black jeans, boots. Costigan picks his black hat up off the floor and says, "What the hell?"
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Skid-Z
Minor
'Not obsessed; possessed! There is a difference, you know.'
Posts: 411
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Post by Skid-Z on May 25, 2012 15:44:09 GMT -5
In one cubicle there's a guy in an overly decent suit and polished black shoes, out cold for a while. After a while, the figure starts to stir. Samuel mumbles something in his sleep, wrinkling his nose. When a bit of a stronger scent wafts through the air he finally wakes up fully. 'Cannella?' His neutral face turns confused, and a bit sour rather quickly when he notices that he's not comfortable at all! The floor is rough and hard and-
He presses against the ground to get himself on his feet, remaining crouched. He looks around, taking in the kitchen with a growing confusion. Why is he here? Samuel stands up fully, patting his suit to get the dust off. Oh dear. Didn't he have a few appointments today? Where is he, for that matter? What's that ticking? How did he get here? With an agitated sigh and a frustrated half-growl, he starts to move. Wherever he is, he needs to get out of here and find his car before his boss is going to kill him.
He looks for a door, and if he finds one, will try to open it.
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Post by SceneMod on Jun 3, 2012 19:14:13 GMT -5
A chipper, accented voice carries across the room.
"Welcome, my most unwilling contestants, to the first round of competitions. Which of you is fit to join me in my perfectly ordered world of genius? I doubt any, but I must try periodically. It's in the super-villain contract, you see."
"The first round is the chocolate round. What amazing creations can you create for me? Remember your finished desserts must refer back to the inspiration, and must contain the mandatory ingredients. You will have thirty minutes to complete the round."
"And I do suggest you present something before the clock runs down. Failure to finish in a timely manner garners strict punishment."
The sound of gears grinding is loud in the space. A portion of the counter in each kitchen cell opens and raises to the surface. On that surface is live kitten and a bowl of goldfish crackers*.
"Time begins... Now!"
*No he is not specifying which is the ingredient and which is the inspiration. Each player may describe his/her own kitten and its behaviors. No visible doors in the cells, by the way
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Post by Springer/Stella Ringer on Jun 3, 2012 19:25:51 GMT -5
"Screw you," Stella growls, and she very deliberately tries to kick down a wall to bust out of her cubicle and escape.
This doesn't go very well.
She wastes a minute trying to kick her surroundings into submission before realising that this is not going to work.
Stella frowns and looks around her cubicle, musing aloud, "Maybe I can set something on fire and melt the floor. Why doesn't this kitchen have Thermite? Or C4. I've cooked with C4 before..."
Cue flashback to Carbombya and making coffee over a C4 fire.
She rummages with her hands and finds the coconut oil, which she then dumps on the small back burner of stove, when she then cranks to high. Her kitten mews, and Stella pats it on the head, declaring, "And you, your name is Dog, kid."
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Post by Seaspinner/Susannah Webber on Jun 5, 2012 11:52:20 GMT -5
"E-excuse me?" What's this about competitions, desserts, and super-villainy? Susannah looks thoroughly put out. "Oh dear..."
Looking around her kitchen, her confusion only deepens at the appearance of the kitten and crackers. Goodness, that kitten is so very adorable. And tasty-looking... Susannah covers her mouth with one hand, scandalized by her own thoughts. Proper ladies do not contemplate devouring adorable animals! Just like proper young girls should not attempt to eat the unprepared game they hunt.
To distract herself, Susannah begins rifling around the kitchen for ingredients, because, well, not doing what the super-villain says when one is unarmed and unpowered (spinnerets aside) seems like a not especially good idea.
"Perhaps I should try baking a chocolate cake?" she says nervously to the fuzzy, juicy kitten.
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Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 5, 2012 20:51:02 GMT -5
Imp snorts derisively.
"I don't cook!" she exclaims, then looks around the room, seeing the others held, like her, in clear cubicles, trying to see how the others and determine how they are reacting. A lot of investigating the walls, and so far not much success, and one person is... actually trying to cook. And someone with green hair is trying to set her stove on fire. A green... mohawk?
Attempts to break down the walls didn't seem to work for anyone, so Imp kneels down, lifts her hooked arm, and attempts to drive it into the floor.
She doesn't accomplish much.
"Trust me," she says louder, "You ain't gonna like what I'm gonna 'present,'" and not just because Imp is a terrible cook with a dull sense of taste, " 'cos when I get my hook on you..." she leaves the threat unspoken as she starts to inspect what supplies she has on hand.
The kitten, a black short-hair with a white nose, curiously watches her. The goldfish crackers go ignored.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Jun 7, 2012 6:05:06 GMT -5
Cecil, who has been quietly in the background for the first couple rounds of rotation because his player forgot to post in earlier, has yet to do a thing other than stare at his kitten – who is far less interesting than Lionessbreast, calico pattern aside – as if it should have a recipe tied to its collar. He raises his hand in schoolroom fashion, then waves.
"I don't suppose it matters that I don't know the first thing about cooking?" he wonders. His kitten sits and starts cleaning herself, clearly bored with him. "I mean… I can boil water on occasion, but this is why I have delivery restaurants on speed dial."
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Hellbender
Major
Mecha-Shai-Hulud
"Seriously."
Posts: 892
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Post by Hellbender on Jun 11, 2012 15:52:00 GMT -5
Costigan glances around the cubicle and regards the part-siamese kitten with a frown. It stretches and yawns, revealing a small pink tongue and proceeds to ignore the big man. The goldfish crackers seem more interesting to it; it puts out a paw and fishes a cracker from the bowl, then starts batting it around the counter.
Donal hums an half-forgotten advertising jingle, and listens carefully. The plexiglass walls sound much denser than real plexiglass--not something he can quickly punch through.
"Ah don't recall bein' drunk enough to sign up for some kinda reality TV cooking show contest," Donal Costigan tells the mysterious voice.
He flicks the wall with a finger nail, listening to it echo in the material. Really strong material; he'll get nothing but bloody knuckles if he just tries punching through it directly. He'll have to find a weakness in the construction somewhere.
His voice deepens to a somewhat threatening tone. "An' that makes this here situation kidnapping and forced labor, which makes me just a tad ornery. Ah ain't feelin' particularly cooperative, you ain't a girlfriend Ah'm tryin' to impress or friends Ah'm cookin' a barbeque for, so take your orders and shove 'em sideways where the sun don't shine."
He reaches out and grabs a handful of the crackers to nibble on, then looks in the cabinets for a saucer, which he fills with water and sets out for the kitten. "Your crackers are stale. Did you pack some food for this here kitten somewhere, or are you the kind of >bass fish< " that starves helpless animals?"
Let's find out how easily this guy gets pissed off, Hellbender muses. He can probably take any initial physical abuse, and getting the measure of his foe is useful information.
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Skid-Z
Minor
'Not obsessed; possessed! There is a difference, you know.'
Posts: 411
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Post by Skid-Z on Jun 12, 2012 4:35:53 GMT -5
No door. Well... Darn.
Samuel gives the kitchen a stern look, listening to the explanation. They need to bake? Seriously? What kind of kidnapping is this? (because this is a kidnapping!). He walks over to the counter that just opened. There's a grey/white tabby with brown tints and it's wobbling towards him. Samuel sighs and pets it, regarding the fish-crackers.
"Well, off the counter with you then" Samuel says as he places kitten on the floor, "now, what do we have here" He mutters while examining the cupboards and the fridge. He stares for a while, checks the clock, then promptly starts pulling out a flask of milk, a cup of cream, and a cooled chocolate bar. "Chocolate, right. He mentioned that". In a drawer he finds a packet of vanilla pudding mix, some vanilla sugar and chocolate milk powder.
Gathering up the necessary equipment he sets a pot of water to boil and starts whisking the milk and pudding mix. When the substance fluffs and firms he places it in the fridge.
The kitten mews and plays with one of his shoelaces. Samuel grabs a cracker, dips it into a bit of cream and offers it to the cat. "Be quiet, Tabs, we don't want the mad professor's timer to run out on us, do you?" What would happen if it did? Something tells Samuel that finding out for himself isn't all that good.
He prepares the whipped cream next, and mixes some of the liquid with a high dose of chocolate powder until it forms a thick mix. The total time it takes to do all of this is about 10 minutes. In the remaining 15 he melts half the chocolate bar to dip the heads of the fish crackers into, breaks up the other half of the bar into chunks to mix in with the pudding (along with a few broken crackers). Scooping it all into a white desert bowl he coats the fluff with whipped cream, then uses the chocolate-cream and a spoon to paint the grey/brown onto the white, feathering it out into stripes. Then he tops it with a handful of fish-crackers half-dipped with molten chocolate. Chocolate heads and cookie tails!
Placing the bowl onto the counter for display, Samuel spends the remaining time cuddling the tabby kitten and casually examining the room. His eyes are searching for points of interest while his mind works on an escape idea.
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Post by Springer/Stella Ringer on Jun 19, 2012 13:52:32 GMT -5
Stella picks up Dog, who is a rather yellowish little kitten with bright blue eyes, and asks him, "Are you by any chance a trained German military cat? Can you crawl through the air ducts, sneak up on the Sweet King, and scratch out his eyes? No? Oh, well."
She looks around, trying to see who else is trapped here. Cecil gets her attention first, and she declares, "Nice hair!"
Susannah and Samuel are actually cooking.
Donal is... attempting a crude form of psychological warfare upon the Sweet King. Maybe Stella can work with him.
Then Stella's eyes alight on the last contestant, and they go wide. Looking like she's seen a ghost, Stella sputters, "General Packer!?"
Her stove catches on fire. This seems to do nothing to the walls, which apparently have a very high melting temperature. Dog mews worriedly over the flames.
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Post by Seaspinner/Susannah Webber on Jun 23, 2012 9:48:44 GMT -5
Susannah looks up worriedly from setting out her ingredients. Most of the other captives don't seem to be trying to cook. Goodness, they seem to be braver - or at least angrier and more violent - than her. Perhaps she should stop cooking? Maybe if no-one cooks then the supervillain's plan will be ruined and he'll have to let them go!
...Or just do horrible, bad things to them all in punishment. Oh dear.
Reaffirmed in her choice to do as instructed, Susannah starts preheating her oven and measuring ingredients, shooing off her adorable grey tabby morsel when she gets too close. She frets quietly to the kitten as she glances nervously at her non-compliant fellow prisoners, "Oh, I do so hope no-one gets hurt- Oh no, fire!"
She stares at Stella's flaming stove, then moves to one of the clear walls and calls out, "Mister- Mister Villain!" He didn't even introduce himself, how rude! "Please don't let that woman burn to death!"
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