Have an actual panic attack over deciding to host a potluck, black out and wake up somewhere stupid [https://img.comicfury.com/comics/220/43704a1628233053b3654f294832024.gif]

"We are simply not equipped to do this," says a voice. She sounds... young. Even tone, deliberate pronunciation... trying too hard to sound smart. She sounds a little familiar, actually...? "We lost nearly three months in a matter of seconds, this is not working out and it is going to get us all killed if we continue."

"The Choir is holding steady," says a second voice. She sounds... older. Maybe. More mature, definitely, softer but more confident. Where have you heard that word before...? Someone... said it. Recently...? "Three months isn't even the record. If anything, she may be too compatible; she's already doing things the previous host--"

"I don't give a shit about the tricks she can do with the Choir, Haunt," snaps the first voice. Ah, now the detached facade's starting to break. You hear her take a moment to compose herself. Where the fuck ARE you? "Other individuals are competing for this... so-called Choir. ...And the house. And this role, and we barely have the faintest idea what that last part even means because the damned security system fucking retconned that alien out of existence. My depth runs deep, I promise, but this? This is out of my depth, and it's damn sure out of hers. At best this fails and only kills us, at worst we're preventing someone else from actually saving the world."

The second, softer voice (Haunt?) retorts. Who the fuck are these people? "At best we don't fail, Darkness. You know how this Survival Instinct business works better than any of us--you remember what Dr. Finch said--" You cannot possibly remember all these bolded fucking words where the fuck is this place how long have you been out "--She wouldn't have the Choir if she wasn't the prime candidate for--"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"--You can use my sinister codename all you want, Haunt, I actually enjoy it," replies Darkness, as calmly as she can force herself to sound. "Dr. Finch admitted freely to wild speculation and we're no better. I can remember the exact quote for you, if you like, after all that IS what I do--"

"Enough," says a third voice. Huh, this weird cabal illuminati cult whatever the shit it is is all women so far. "This is dumb. Just fucking do it."

"Hunger, it's not as simple as--"

"I SAID," jesus christ this Hunger lady fired up fast "FUCKIN' GO. I'M TIRED OF WAITING. KICK MORE ASS."

"But," stutters Darkness, "we are running the risk of permanently damaging the Choi--"

"KICK. MORE. AAAASS."

This time, it's Haunt who tries to at least pacify the situation. "Hunger--"

"KICK MORE ASS," repeats Hunger. "THIS SUCKS. KICK MORE ASS."

The argument continues like this for a while, with Hunger getting increasingly enraged while Darkness tries to overanalyze everything and Haunt tries to play the peacekeeper--

you realize that nothing is stopping you from speaking.

Or moving, really, you just can't see anything. Or... feel. Anything.

You might be drugged. Like a full body... numbing sort of drug. You think you saw that in a movie once. Stranger things have happened.

Part of you wants answers and part of you frankly gives no shits about any of the nonsense these people are spewing because you have enough nonsense to keep up with already. It really does feel like it's been months, even though it's really only been--

uhh

huh.

You realize that you don't know what time it is.

Or what day.

You kind of just want to go back to sleep and hope this is all a potluck when you wake again.

That feels at least as likely as anything else that's been happening to you.

"KIIIIIIICK

MOOOORE--"

"Hunger, please,"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSS!"