[ the music may be the first thing he notices after waking up in a lurch, a half-swallowed shout on his lips and visions of blood and broken bones dancing in his head, but it isn’t what shakes any remaining sleep from him. no, what wakes tom up is the fact that he’s alone in the bed. the bed, not his bed, he quickly notices with some concern. he laid down next to liz last night and, while he might have settled some into this domestic thing, he’s still a light enough sleeper that he couldn’t be moved without waking up. his head isn’t fuzzy, so he’s sure he wasn’t drugged, but there is a peculiar burning pain on his side when he moves. it’s enough to propel him to his feet, to the mirror in the bathroom where he spots an odd tattoo of antlers on his ribs. what the fuck.

there aren’t many more answers when he makes his way downstairs. there’s no sign of his wife anywhere, no sign that she’d ever been there. it’s a small consolation that he finds hudson sitting by the kitchen table, his leash hooked over the back of a chair, but the fact that the dog is here and not his wife just makes this all the more bizarre. he rifles through the basket, reading the letter, checking the clip in the gun before tucking the weapon into the back of his waistband. whatever this is, it seems like he’s at least being afforded a firearm. which... is a big mistake on whoever brought him here’s part.

he pockets the keys, the id, both phones, his and the new one. he takes a bite from the jar and leans down to feed some to the border terrier mix at his feet. ] Just to be on the safe side, right, buddy?

[ there’s not many more answers to look for in the house. taking hudson’s leash, he leads him outside and down the front steps. ]

All right. Let’s see what’s going on here.

[ one moment, he’s opening the door to one of the spare bedrooms in his house. his house, which still feels weird. it’s not home, if only because this whole thing reminds him that he doesn’t really have a home. that he’s never had one. but he has a house now, and he isn’t looking for any more surprises.

unfortunately, that’s what tom finds. or rather, what finds him.

one moment, he’s in the house. the next, he’s standing on a giant-sized game board next to a total stranger. he smiles awkwardly, because that’s what “tom keen” would do, but his eyes are scanning their surroundings all the while. the doors are gone. the only visible exit is in the distance. other than that, there’s nothing, nothing but the colorful labeled squares under their feet.

then the screen lights up, the directions are given. his name pops up first, the die below it flickering in a simulation of rolling before settling on a five. rather than move forward, he laughs. ]

This is a joke, right? A prank. Ha ha, very funny. It’s—this is elaborate, I’ll give you that.

[ choose your own adventure. pm this journal if you want to plot something. ]