Chapter Text
Luke awoke with the distinct impression that he had forgotten something. It was not the ordinary sort of forgetting, either. No name hovering just beyond his reach, No sudden realization that he'd left something important somewhere. It was more.. er… fundamental than that.
He opened his eyes to a ceiling he had never seen before, and for several seconds he simply stared at it, breathing slowly, waiting for his mind to supply the missing context.
Nothing came.
The room was quiet enough that he could hear his own thoughts, and the ringing in his head, or maybe it was the noise of something electrical behind the walls.
Pale morning light spilled through a narrow window to his left, illuminating dust that drifted lazily through the air. He knew what a window was. He knew what dust was. He knew he was lying on a bed. All of those things were ordinary, obvious facts. Yet there was no memory attached to any of them.
He sat up. His first instinct was to look around for something that might explain where he was. The room was small, furnished with litter more than the bed, a wooden dresser, a chair, and a framed painting of probably a random landscape (that he didn't recognize anyways.) His clothes were already on him. The dark brown, three-piece suit, white shirt, and black tie. The fabric was slightly wrinkled from sleeping in it, though Luke had no idea why he'd even been sleeping in formal clothes. He reached up and pushed the wavy brown hair away from one eye, staring at his reflection in the darkened mirror.
Brown eyes,
brown hair.
A face he could recognize and call back to his own.
His own name came easily;
"Luke."
…he said it out-loud just to make sure.
The sound of it settled something in him. Luke. That was his name. He didn't know of his surname. He didn't remember how old he was. He didn't know where he lived, what he did for work. If he had parents, siblings, friends, enemies. He didn't know his favourite food, song, or even if he liked the suit he was wearing. He could explain what all those things were. He simply just couldn't connect any of them to himself. That honestly frightened him more than the unfamiliar room..
Luke stood fully, the polished soles of his shoes making a quiet sounds against the floorboards. His body seemed to know how to move without instruction. He didn't have to think about balancing, breathing, or even turning to knob of the dresser. Tying the knot of the already-fastened knot of his tie. His hands were familiar in the practical sense. His own handwriting, however, would probably have looked like a strangers. He wasn't even sure if he could remember what his own voice sounded like until he'd spoken a moment ago.
He opened the dresser. Empty aside from a set of sleeping clothes. A basic black silk-shirt, and shorts. As well as plenty pairs of socks.
The closet was about the same.
There was no phone, no wallet. No photographs, no identification, nothing that could tell him what "Luke" had been before waking up here.
Then someone shouted out of nowhere.
Luke froze.
The voice came from somewhere beyond the door. A man's voice, loud and startled. Followed by the sound of something hitting a wall. Another voice answered, then another. Several people were talking at once.
Luke decided to open the door..
The hallway was beyond larger than he'd expected. Dark wood lined the walls, broken by ornate lamps and framed paintings. Several identical doors stood open on either side of the halls. People were emerging from them, one after another. All dressed as strangely as he was.
A man with voluminous platinum-blond hair stood several doors down, visibly agitated as he looked around. His white jacket contrasted sharply against the black vest underneath. And his stripe tie hood slightly crooked. "Does anyone know where we are?"
"No," Someone answered.
The voice came from a man with dark, messy hair and striking blue eyes. His brown suit was immaculate despite the circumstances, and his expression was so serious that Luke almost found it unsettling. He stood with his arms loosely at his sides, studying the hallway as though he was already trying to understand the layout.
Another man approached them, blonde hair parted neatly enough to reveal blue eyes. His black suit was considerable more polished than most of the others, and he carries himself with a strange sort of composure. "Does anyone remember their names?"
Luke looked around as a few people nodded.
"I do," said the platinum-blond man. "Callum."
The blue-eyed man answered next. "Hudson."
The refined blonde touched his chest almost absently while introducing himself. "Zachary."
A younger-looking man with messy light-brown hair, dressed in a cream jacket and darker outer coat, glanced around. "Noah."
Luke realized he was being looked at. "Oh, Luke."
The word came naturally. The others introduced themselves one by one. Toby, Joanna, Martin, Laurel, Mia, Jack, Ella, Emma, Lily, Athena, Nora, Molly, Poppy, Valentin, Valeria, and Ruby.
Twenty names, Luke tried remembering any of them. Nothing.
He looked at Callum again. There was something strange about that.
Not recognition. Recognition implied memory, and Luke -- as well as everyone there -- clearly had none. It was simply that looking at the blond man produced an odd little sensation somewhere beneath his ribs, like the echo of a though he couldn't quite hear. Perhaps he had known Callum before, but now he did not. But yet, his attention kept returning to him despite himself.
Callum seemed to notice, though.
Their eyes met for a moment and neither said anything. Callum then gave a small, faint, and uncertain smile. Luke looked away. He didn't know why his stomach tightened.
Before he could think about it any further, every light in the hallways went out. The darkness was immediate.
Someone cursed, someone else gasped. Luke heard footsteps shifting across the hallway, followed by the unmissable scrape of someone bumping into furniture. He instinctively reached out, one hand catching the wall to steady himself.
A loud voice ringed, and echoed in the hall. "WELCOME, PLAYERS."
"YOUR MEMORIES HAVE BEEN REMOVED." Luke's throat tightened. Removed? That word was different from forgotten. He looked at the others through the settled in darkness, barely visible. The closer ones expressions had changed, too.
The next message ranged out, but a bit quieter. "YOU RETAIN YOUR NAMES AND COMMON KNOWLEDGE."
Luke exhaled slowly. So it was deliberate. Someone had taken everything else.
"YOUR ROLE WILL NOW BE REVEALED."
Role?
Before he could ask, a card appeared in Luke's hands. He didn't remember ever receiving it.
He looked down at it. The card was thick, black around the edges with his name printed neatly, and elegantly across the top. 'LUKE' Below it was a single word. 'VIGILANTE' He decided to read the description below it. "Rogue justice. Execute who you believe is Mafia to save the Town, but a mistaken shot will cost your own life." ..Town faction.
The town wins if all Mafia members are eliminated. He stared at it for several seconds.
Mafia.
The word itself was familiar. he knew what the Mafia game was in the general sense. A common party game played with 2 teams in a group. But knowing what the words meant did nothing to answer the much more important question.
Why was he here?
"THERE ARE A TOTAL OF 4 MAFIA AMONGST YOU. 3 MAFIA, 1 WITCH."
Luke slowly raised his eyes off his card, and it dissipated. Cool.. Twenty people, four of which he know knew to be cautious of. Nobody knew anything about anyone.
The lights came back on, Everyone was staring in range of everyone else, making their way downstairs.
They were strangers. Callum found himself strangely relieved. No one hunting him for debt, or pestering him about his gambling addiction.
Then he noticed one of them.
A man with brown hair falling over one side of his face stood farther down the corridor. Dark brown three-piece suit. Brown eyes that seemed to be taking in everything without quite knowing what to do with it.
Callum stared at him for a second too long. Something stirred, not a memory. It could not be a memory. he had no memories.
Still, there was something about the man's face that made Callum feel as though he'd miss something important. A word he couldn't remember. A conversation that had never happen.
A familiarity with no source.
Someone began asking questions, and eventually the names came out.. Callum repeated the names silently as they were introduced, trying to attach faces to them. It felt like trying to memorize the contents of a room while someone kept changing the furniture.
Luke. For some odd reason, that name stuck.
Then the lights died, and announcements came on.
So this wasn't an accident. Someone had done this, on purpose. A card appeared in Callum's hands. He nearly dropped it while fumbling it. His name printed across the top.
"CALLUM" in slightly messy handwriting, in a "cursive-like" signature attempt. Was this his handwriting?
Underneath it was one word: "DOCTOR"
He stared. For several seconds, he genuinely didn't understand why his stomach had twisted. Then the information began to register. TOWN FACTION. "Defy the grave. Stitch the wounded back together to keep your allies alive and outnumber the Mafia."
He wanted to beg to change his role. Nothing about it made sense. He didn't remember going to medical school. He didn't remember working in a hospital. he didn't remember ever touching a scalpel, treating a wound, or even wanting to ever become a doctor. Callums fingers tightened around the card before it dissipated.
He couldn't explain the emotions crawling up his throat. Couldn't explain why the thought of being responsible and someone else's lifeline made his chest feel as tight as it did. He couldn't explain why some part of him wanted to throw the card across the hallways and demand a re-draw.
"DO NOT REVEAL YOUR ROLE."
Callum's eyes looked around.
"ROLE REVELATION WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE ELIMINATION."
That got everyone's attention. The hallway becoming utterly silent, Callum looking around at the others.
Whatever they had been brought here to do apparently they were expected to figure it out without telling each other immediately what they were. Fine. Callum could manage that. He actually preferred that with his role.
Doctor.. He absolutely hated it. He had no idea why.
Luke was standing across the hallway, slowly walking awkwardly with the group. Their eyes meeting a second time as they bumped into each other.
Callum couldn't say anything, and neither could Luke.
For one brief moment, Callum had the absurd thought that if there was anyone in this place he could trust, it might be him. He immediately hated that thought too. He didn't.. -- or at least remember -- Luke. He didn't know anyone at all.
But in the meantime, he went on downstairs with everyone. A singular screen sitting behind a table in a room connected to a kitchen. Everyone's portrait with their names underneath. Looking somewhat like signatures.
People grouped up as people do.
Hudson, Noah, Zachary, Callum, and Luke, all grouped together. Awaiting the first night.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.