1964-09-26 - Escape the Room
Summary: A ragtag few are transported into another reality to try to escape the room!
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
carol-danvers rogue logan tigra kamala kaleb jean-grey 


The house itself is empty this time of the night; which is shocking. The four bedroom house was made for a busy family, the traditional man and wife, with a boy and girl each for their respective genders to dote on. One could easily assume that the girl was a little blonde thing with pigtails and lace stockings with bows, and the young boy, probably her twin, wore a nice straight laced vest and a bow-tie that matched. The father could possibly wear a dark suit, the mother a usual pale green number who bakes like Betty Crocker and keeps her language clean of slurs.

The only one who was allowed to curse in the house was the dog. But even his bowl was empty, save for the faint remnants of water.

At night, when the family gathers around the television, they all have their trays of food in front of them. Pork chops and applesauce with a healthy helping of peas. But this night? It was quiet. All the lights gone out; like the end of a show. It all died down on broadway and there was not a peep, nor a sound.

The TV cracks on, the white noise the only soundwithin the house as the lines begin to roll upon the television. There's a bzzt! Here! And a blip! There! And soon, a man with a way too obvious plastic smile dances upon the tv, his cane thrusting into the air as he kicks his feet like a puppet!

'Hello hello hello my lovelies! Welcome to the Johnny Dangerous show! Where we take unsuspecting victims from their homes at night and place them in scenarios where they may or may not make it out alive!'

The crowd roars happily!

'I know! It's a hoot! Its a classic! It's amazing! And these people were HEROES! Or not. Or they could be. WHO CARES! But what we do know is that they won't have access to their gifts! That's right!'

The crowd hoots.

'You betcha! They've been reduced to the low human scum that populates the rest of the woooorld! Now now now.. no boos! No boos! We're going to give them a chance, yeah?!'

The crowd goes.. 'Nooooo!'

'Okay, okay fine, you mangy mongrels! This espisode?'

The camera pans upon that plastic face, ugly and hideous and probably hilarious as it was..


Deprived of her feline powers, Tigra is as human as they come. Same height, same *ahem* build as before, in a bikini, but with black hair instead of red, and skin instead of fur. She's bewildered and surprised. "What the—" she says, looking around in confusion, "Where…what…" She takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Are you -serious?-"

Carol is there in her civilian clothes, and she concentrates for a moment, then shakes her head, "Apparently so. My powers aren't working either." She frowns, but gets a bit of a calculating look as she glances around, taking in her surroundings.

Nothing new to see here, just Scarlett being Scarlett, her typical self. Bohemienne, flowers in her hair — edelweiss and taygeta marigolds, if anyone cares — and utterly unsurprising, really. About the only difference might be the curious look up at the space which surrounds them. "Well. It's just like that Bewitched show!" Yes, you're fucking derivative, evil villain man. One would think she's used to interdimensional falls at party time in Greenwich. Maybe she's on LSD. "I suppose we shall just have to work together on this one. Though if a bear shows up, playing dead really doesn't work well, does it?"

Logan isn't really sure how he got here or who half these people are, but that sort of shit happens to him often enough. He feels the loss of his senses, though, the way the world seems dull and less vivid, robbing him of the scents and hidden sounds most people can't appreciate. Probably means his healing's offline, too. But he can feel the weight in his arms enough to now that he's still full of metal as ever.

"We ain't entirely screwed," he says, looking over at Scarlette, whom he knows best, "I still got my claws, at least."


Jersey City, NJ

"Ammi! You said I could watch TV after dinner!"

"Is your homework done?"

"Yesss Ammi." Aamir responds with a role of his eyes. "And my chores, and I even have my clothes set out for tomorrow!"

"Fine. One hour. No less!"

As they turn on the TV, they are greeted with the sight of Kamala on TV with strangers, and in mortal peril! Kamala's Ammi frowns. "She told me that she was going to be late at a friend's house! This is the fault of that Mary Jane! I know what that really is. It's drugs. They told me!"

Aamir frowns. "No, Ammi, Mary Jane is a girl.. a very pretty girl."

"Is she of the faith?"


"Then not pretty enough!"


In the house of doom, there's a struggle from upstairs and then coming down the stairs - Kamala's hair is in pigtails and she has been dressed in a sundress similar to what the little blonde girl that usually lives here does that. "I.. uh.." she pauses, glancing at the others that she recognizes, and then blinks. "I'm so confused.." she murmurs, waving to Carol and Scalett, who she recognizes.. until…

"Okay. Uhm. Do I call you Ammi?" she asks Carol, and glances at Logan. "But if that's Abu, you could do sooo much better."

Kaleb couldn't remember how he got here but he was really getting tired, fast, of having all of his senses blunted and disappearing at the whims of others. He recognized few. The 18 year old was too well dressed and too busy to have this happen again in one season. He'd be a good looking young man if he learned to smile now and then. A hand went to Scarlett's shoulder and he tilted his head sideways and then looked from it to Scarlett to Logan to the others he didn't know. He squint and was trying to make out what was happening withthe tv.

It's just a typical house. The main room with the television left on, static blaring across the internal speakers of what used to be the show that Johnny Dangerous hosted. He can see them, but they can't see him!

The camera pans in.

'They can't see me! E'hehehehehe!' Johnny clasps his hands together, and performs a pervert wiggle.

Back to the main room, a three seat loveseat remains in front of the television, a coffee table with a chinese created tea set upon the top. The rug itself is decorative, old and slightly used and worn, covering wooden floors. But the main room itself looks like a set from a television show. There are no doors, windows are there, complete with dark curtains, yet if anyone chooses to peer outside they would see nothing but impenetrable brick. The walls are an ugly pastel color with tiny hints of flowers, for if you stare too long you may get dizzy. There is also a grandfather clock, a chandelier, and a few bits and bobs that would make this place seem lived in.

But it was all wrong. Something was wrong. The entire thing was off. (As if you didn't know judging by the windows!)

And what stands in the middle of the room is a safe. A safe with a rolling combination. Where.. oh where.. are we going to find the numbers?

The camera pans out, as Johnny still does his dance. He stops almost immediately, looking ashamed.

'Oh. What?! Don't focus on me! Focus on them! Wait.. there were stairs? ONE OF YOU MUTHER— *BEEP* IS FIRED! I KNOW WHO DID IT! IT WAS THAT SACK OF *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*..

A gorgeous woman appears upon the television for all to see. She twirls and twirls until she's on the beach, where she meets her kids and begins to play. The husband himself stands off to the side with his pipe, before he turns to address the 'audience'.

'Nothing says 'I'm a man' like Kroegers wholesome, old fashioned jocks. They have support, and it keeps my rustling jimmies in place.'

He winks at the camera, and then the TV goes dark.

Scarlett and Carol are familiar faces, at least, though it's clearly they're as bereft of powers as Tigra is. "Wish I had my claws," she says absently to Logan, not knowing what claws he still has, himself. She turns to the TV at the appearance of a woman, and then grimaces at the mention of jockstraps. "Could've done without that," she notes. Somewhere, though, Gareth is taking notes. "No doors, but there's a safe. Any safe crackers here?" she asks.

|ROLL| Kamala +rolls 1d20 for: 5

|ROLL| Carol Danvers +rolls 1d20 for: 9

Carol smiles faintly, "Well, I can try… they only took my powers. Suckers." She grins and moves to the safe, placing an ear close to the door as she listens carefully, then the grin fades, "Blast. I can't hear the tumblers." Her nose wrinkles a bit as she strains, but still can't pick up the distinct clicks.

The redhead smooths her hands over her waist, pinning her tunic down on the narrowed curve. "You do. Step lightly, all of us. Ever get the feeling Middle America is out to get you?" Kaleb's weight on her shoulder isn't too hard to endure, for all she actually feels it for once. "Careful," Scarlett warns, "we don't know if this is a selective thing." Concentration does not get her off the ground, but being subject to the fates' whims all the time causes her to be a little adaptable. "Hi, everyone, Scarlett if you don't know me. That reminds me of a Master Lock by the looks of it, which means they're supposedly easy to crack. Turn the dial and feel for the stiffness when you engage the tumblers." Nice girl, apparent thief. Takes all kinds. "Anyone want to take a look in the clock and see if it contains anything of note? Change in the couch cushions? Eat some of the tasty dinner?" She's already headed for the teapot to peek inside the lid. Should Kaleb not wish to venture far from her, she pulls him along.

Logan cocks his head, "Or I could just cut it off and snap the thing open right away?" he says. He holds his right arm out to the side and there's a SNIKT as he pops his adamantium claws. Blood runs down his hand immediately, three wounds opening to release them and he stiffens a bit as it hurts more than usual. The adamantium poisoning's already begun, of course, toxins seeping into his blood through the marrow that should be keeping him alive, freed from being kept in check by his healing factor. He'll start to bleed other places soon.

"Step aside, darlin'," he says, moving to lash out and try to cut the safe open with a swipe of his hand.

"So.. I wrote a fic like this once." Kamala says as she looks around. "Except it was a space station, and it was Spider-Man and the Invisible Woman and they were trying to secure the station against some brain sucking Russian Alien Robot Dogs with implanted human brains." she explains as she looks at the others and raises her hand for a moment.

"Hi, I'm uhm.. Kamala." Since they don't have powers at the moment, there's no reason for her to go all codenames, right? She's looking around the room, and notices the safe and the spinning code. "We need numbers." she says finally, thoughtfully as she moves to look at the grandfather clock. "Hey. Did you notice the clock was stopped? That might be part of the combonation. Or something. It's set to 11:21. 11 and 21 are two of the numbers, I bet!" she calls out, lifting her eyes for a moment.

"Waaaaait. Did you say you have claws?" she asks Logan, suddenly peering at him far more interestingly. And then the claws come out. "Oh my Allah, you're Wolverine! I mean.. I wrote a story about you and Storm once that was voted most far out story in my Junior year of high school. And you can heal. We're twinsies!" she squees, before correcting herself. "Murder room, right right.. but ee!"

|ROLL| Jean Grey +rolls 1d20 for: 1

|ROLL| Kaleb +rolls 1d20 for: 20

Kaleb didn't stray too far from Rogue, though the dour, but spectacularly dressed once-mutant offered nearly entirely inaudibly "…kaleb…" His brow furrowed. Everything was hard to hear but they had to get out and that required him knowing first how the room sat. He stood in the middle and attuned what he was seeing to what he knew and compared it against what he wasn't seeing. His voice came in and out of audible. "…there… Should be another door…" But first? Yes, he pointed to teh floor making a gesture like 'roll up the rug'.

'I SAID GET HIS *BEEP* OUT HERE RI— oh! High folks! These stupid ball of humans are trying to..'

The crowd gasps as it seems they are transfixed on what was going on in the room. Namely, the focus on the safe. The crowd knows what's in there, it was just only a matter of time…

With Carol's inability to actually crack the safe, Rogue chooses the wiser, much slower method. Investigation. Upon lifting up the teapot, a number 6 is embedded on the inside, encrusted with what could either be colored black jewels or old tea. Either way, that was the first of it.


Logan on the other hand, with his adamantium claws, manages to hack open the safe, creating a nice crevice through the door itself as a green mist flies upward. By sheer luck, it misses him entirely, the quick squirt of whatever poison cloud that emerged from the safe itself disappearing.

The crowd 'awwws', and a few shoulders slump in dismay.

'Okay, that's it. I KNOW WHO SET THAT SAFE! GET THAT *BEEP BEEP* OUT HERE RIGHT *CENSORED* NOW!' Johnny was losing his shit. And he's right to. Everything was falling apart!

And then there's Kamala, the smart little cookie took a look at the clock and immediately guessed the next numbers, though it's almost too little, too late. For the shit job that Logan did with the safe, the door hinge was already opening…

Kaleb's guess to lift up the carpet itself would be a shocking one..

But no more shocking than what was in the metal door number one!

The camera pans on Johnny's face, the once plastic smile that he wore shifted to something deadpan. Almost like he was playing the fates upon his face.

'There's a head in there. A severed head.'

Someone in the crowd giggles.

"If I had my powers, I could hear the tumblers, no problem," Tigra says, before mumbling something about a ham sandwich. She glances at Logan curiously when he talks about cutting it open, and then her eyes go wide when Logan suddenly sprouts… "Those aren't claws. Those are knives!" Why does she feel like that should be said by an Australian?

Kamala gets a bit of a doubletake. Followed by a slow third take. ANd then she decides to roll up the carpet.

Carol Danvers takes one end of the rug, and pulls it up by the corner, thinking the door is a red herring. At least just yet, as she thinks there's more to be done… and well, why not check the rug?

That's a combination down, and murder on the Orient Express plotted. Green mist and acidic goo of any kind sufficiently knock her back to take cover behind a couch or the table with the tea set, habit kicking in. "It sounds like you have a fan, Logan." Either the mist or Kamala, which one is bound to turn him peaky faster? Find out next time on… Scarlett takes one of the cups with her, no reason other than a souvenir and future use. She saunters back carefully to Kaleb, skirting the floor where the door might hide. Might as well steal a curtain just in case, hauled down in the event the world's crankiest mummy or Native American zombie awakens bitterly. "Greer, be prepared if anything jumps out? I have the impression the floor might be full of silly string that hisses." Because everyone needs a can of worms.

Logan looks incredulously at Kamala for a moment, "Kid, I dunno what yer talkin' about, but don't worry, we'll get ya back to yer teddy bears an' shit fast as we can, awright?" he says. He squats down and peers into the safe, his head cocked, "Anybody recognize this mug?" he says. He's probably more comfortable with carnage than any of the others so he actually checks on the head, seeing if maybe there's anything hidden in its mouth, peeling back the eyelids to see if there are actually eyes in there or, like, alien death lasers or something.

"If you guys don't figure out another way outta here, I'm gonna cut a hole in the wall here in a minute," he says.

"Wait, don't do that, Wolverine, it could be.." Too late, it's trapped. Kamala holds her breath, almost until her cheeks are red, but seeing everyone else is breathing fine and not you know - dead. She lets out a breath. "New rule. If it doesn't say cut me, let's not cut it." there's a brief pause. "..uhm. You're bleeding." comes the blank comment to Logan. He's supposed to heal! Where's the super magic instant healing power?!

"Yeah, well, it was your claws that gave Storm her mohawk." Kamala sticks out her tongue at Logan, as he finds the key in the mouth. "It's a fake head." she offers. "I mean, I make better props in my theatre class." comes the response as she looks over Logan's shoulder. "Can we actually use the key instead of punching a door? Or slicing it?" A pout as she moves back to stand around, because there's nothing else she can really do at the moment.

|ROLL| Jean Grey +rolls 1d20 for: 8

Kaleb was happy to see his knowledge of structures was paying off. There was a double take though. T here was a head, a head. it wasn't his head but he was certain that somehow, somewhere, Det. Sommerset was not going to be pleased. He looked to the head and worked on murmuring something to Logan, paused and tried again changing volume, "The head, mouth? Keys? Clues?" He crouched where Carol flipped the rug at his behest giving her a nod, kudos, and examined the trap door for hinges, lockes, openings, traps, catches, and breadcrumbes if there were any. He put his ear to teh floor and just scowled. he couldn't hear a thing. For a once-sonic? There was little more aggrivating. Finally he knocked twice.

|ROLL| Kaleb +rolls 1d20 for: 4

Tigra rolls up the carpet at one end, only to find a half bit of spray painted words.. the words that read..

'Don't go..'

That waas something, yes? The other end that Carol tugs? '..through the..'

There was a loud snap, the rod immediately breaking as Scarlett snaps a curtain from the rod. It was a prize, really. The finest fabric that money could ever buy which blots out the sun when a person needs a desperate nap. It was thick enough to be made into a nice dress as well! Go go gadget Seamstress!

The second snap comes from the closed and snapped shut of the mouth after Logan pries a key from it, and Kamala was right. The dummy head was a horrible prop which made Johnny Dangerous upset.

Cue the cameras of him thrashing props all around the set, throwing himself into a wall, whipping himself into a clear frenzy…. nothing.. clearly was going his way!

But there was nothing else beneath that rug but those broken words, obviously scrawled and cut off, nothing to fill the middle of the floor where the rug itself once lain.

'Dont go.'

'Through the..'

But the emergence of the key into the false air allows for a click and a shimmer, the wall fading away as if water had washed the poorly made wallpaper and supposed painted brick.

There was a door. The door had a lock. Logan had a skeleton key…

..but who would heed the warning?

The camera pans towards Johnny now, hair out of place, Tommy Gun in his hand as he looks menacingly towards the audience, his gaze was vacant as all get out, and he looked ready to kill.

'We interrupt this *CENSORED* program with a healthy case of *BEEP*-ing murder..'

Editors Note: Did you guys know that one of the rules to Satanism that if something bothers you, destroy it?

(The more you know.)

"Well, I don't know what to make of that. Are those part of one sentence? There words missing? They separate sentences? Or are they a trap? Or just totally random?" Tigra wonders these things aloud as she looks at the spray painted words. She eyes the door that's appeared, and resists asking a certain question.

Carol Danvers hrms, "Well, we do have the key… but what else can that key go to, as it says don't go through the… assuming it means door, anyway."

A robust and glorious stretch of fabric, all hers! The dread Soul-Thief wraps herself up in her new acquisition, flipping it around her slender shoulders, and secures it with three hairpins used usually to keep those heavy braids in place. Stab and point; now she truly looks fetching in a dashing bit of attire. Scarlett's contributions to the moment are limited, other than tackling a skeleton in glorious style. "It well could be a warning, and then the other statement a phrase. Don't go in the safe, poisonous gas will eat your face. Through the door to leave?" She points to the safe, the floor, and the final one. "Everyone to the sides but our keyholder, seem like a good idea?" A gesture to the right, to the left, out of easy range. She has her cup and her purloined cape-curtain; majesty comes easy these days. "Following you either way, Logan."

Logan snorts, "I lived a good life," he says, taking the key towards the door. "Anybody has another idea, I'm happy to do it, but yeah, lemme take the brunt if something nasty comes out the other side. If it does, hope you ladies - oops, sorry, kid - " he says to Kaleb, "can figure out what's goin' on here. Or what the hell that one's talking about or why she thinks the weather has hair," he says.

And so he steps forward and puts key to lock.

"Look under the couch. There might be another word there. You know. Just to make sure." Kamala lifts the cushions to look, but knowing her luck, the rest of the code is probably under there. Though she hasn't considered moving the couch itself yet. "Sure." she murmurs to herself dejectedly when Scarlett announces they're following Logan. "We can snkt our way out."

Kaleb was watching Logan with his head tilted, right side forward. The apology got a shrugged expression in return. No harm, no foul. He did snap his fingers twice adn moved to point to teh couch and pinted to Kamala and thena thumb up before grabbing the end of the couch. Maybe try moving the whole thing? He was on board with the idea to finish the sentance before sacrificing people to trial and error.

Carol Danvers helps Kaleb with the couch. Sure, she's not super-strong but she's still in good shape. Being a field agent does that, Kree powers or not, and she looks over at him, "Alright, this is definitely not what I was expecting…"

And Kamala does indeed find another safe code number under the cushions. The teen Inhuman gives a sigh, but moves out of the way to let more experienced heads do their thing.

Scarlett does not help move a couch because this is not the lightbulb game courtesy of deranged folks. What she provides is protection in case something marches through the henceforth locked and barred passage, prepared to shock them with glamour, a mountebank's flourish, and possibly some killer yoga asanas. Or she'll throw tea-jewel leaves in their face.

Logan isn't doing anything fancy. He just turns the key and pushes through the door. The other side may hold an alien spaceship or another dimension or a live studio audience. Or death. He's faced them all in his time, with a smile on his face.

God damn, he could really use a cigar, though.

Kaleb didn't look like he lifted so much as a finger to direct others to to manual labour on his behalf, but four years on the rowing team said otherwise. He could, apparently, lift one endof the couch when so motivated. They found Kamala a code? Fantastic! He waited until everyone was clear to put that end down and waited to see if the code would work in the safe.

YEAR 2017:

The loud snap of a crisp book rings out through the air as the man leans back upon the bed. The girl next to him was no older than ten years old, but she had a sleepy look upon her face as she looks up towards her father.

'Dad? So Grandpa was a bad guy?' She asks.

'Well you can say that sweetheart. You can also say it's one of his many failed attempts to gain notoriety in the heroic world. You see, if things didn't go his way, he'd just snap. And that's not the way to be. You got to look at the world and obstacles as challenges for you to get back up and look on with positivity.'

It was clear that those people resembled Johnny. Same dark, messy mop, but the only difference was, 'Dad', was missing an eye.

'Alright pumpkin, time for bed. Tomorrow night? I'll read you the story about the X-Men and how they finally came face to face with the Sha—..'



The words were written clear as day as the rag-tag crew lifted the couch, but Kamala did find a gift of a pouch of coins beneath the cushions. They were quarters, enough quarters to buy a months of bread or two weeks of a bottle of milk. Either way, if she didn't have any sort of money she'd be feeling -pretty- rich right about now!

Though, with Carol, Tigra, Kamala, and Kaleb all manhandling the couch, Logan and Scarlett approach the door.

Skeleton Key in.

Warnings not heeded.

The door soon swung open as a surprise was waiting on the other side.

'I GOT YOU NOW!' Johnny screamed, his crazed eyes near flashing as he begins to lift the tommy gun. It was like a scene played in slow motion. Where the first burst of the gun fires off, the brief hints of fire from the muzzle, the cracked bullets that fly from the mouth of it agonizingly slow towards Scarlett and Logan..

..just when the bullets may hit.. a flash of light envelops the room…


Cue the cabin, dinner fresh upon the stove soon dished out into plates. Jean regaling the story of the days past of the student who needs a little bit of extra help and how his intellect matched Scarlett's.. everything was right as rain, no tricks here..


Back home again, outside of the door to her family home. The sweet smells of dinner cooked by the very expert hands of her mother wafts through the window and into the nights air. A young girl stops to take in the scent, her eyes wide as she stares towards the door, and off she runs to her own home, her tummy now rumbling in need of a snack.


'Coulson is looking for you, Captain. He says that the files he needed on his desk were due three hours ago..'

And with a heavy thump, they land in front of her along with a pen that was tossed on top. Some asshole agent set her up!


The sweet smell of fresh air and the loud sounds of nothingness fill the solitary room that he meditated in..

..and yet a familiar pair of footsteps approach the door which carries a song upon their lips.

Escape the room. Or did they?


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