A Hero In The House of Horrors (Starboy vs ???)

[DSX93]

The night's events replayed in Emilia's mind, from her first step down the stairs to the moment where his breath had grown slow and shallow against her thighs. She was always her own worst critic when it came to her performances: Things would feel right in the moment -- when she's slipped into her role, her thoughts becoming those of her character. But when the cameras were turned off and it was time to return to the real world, she would often wonder.

She's a good actress. She knows that she's a good actress. But she also knows that she could be better. There would always be these little details that would come to mind after. Tiny adjustments that she could've made to be perfect. They were the worst ones, worse than any larger blunder that called for another take. Numerous. Never-ending.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to put him out. Maybe she should have been a little crueler. More villainous. Perhaps pushed that point about him being a boy more? Give him a little extra motivation to stick around for the night. Maybe she could've held onto this hold or that for longer. Done this instead...

The circumstances behind this match -- sharing the stage with her sister on grounds that could become so intimate, whilst playing a character who had been built upon an important aspect of herself as a foundation, more than most of the others she'd crafted -- made it worse, planting seeds of self-doubt to go along with it.

Maybe bringing Daeva Asphodel out was itself a mistake.

Ironically, the bite wasn't standing out anymore. Not in that regard.

Was this rational? Probably not. But that didn't stop that internal flow. Who would the world like more when this airs?

Emilia would try to shift her thoughts to the next act. Who amongst The Collective would appear next?

***

The hero stirred. His consciousness returned, his entirely unfamiliar surroundings jarring him awake. Lacramioara, having sat just in front of those bars, rose calmly to her feet as he remembered his predicament, her expression cold.

Who is she?

"Someone who is so far unimpressed with your performance. Not the first time you've heard that, I imagine." Her tongue was like a dagger in the hands of a rogue. A blade handled with finesse, meant to cut, rather than skewer. Without waiting for his response, she would continue: "There is a key in your cell. It won't deliver you to salvation, but if you're able to make use of it here and now, you may find yourself someplace not quite as troublesome.

I'll give you three minutes. Starting now."

[Jaystar]

Well, at least he got an answer. Not in any shape or form that he had envisioned or would have hoped for, though. No clues whatsoever who she was, but mocking of his performance so far in this match, and his career instead. That never felt good - but at least, it immediately made her a rather convincing villain. That at least felt always invigorating for the Lonely Superhero.

Although even if he wasn't exactly lonely now, he was alone in this cell, apparently. And in quick succession, the hero got to hear the challenge he was faced with now. Finding a key? Somewhere in this cell? Promises of a reward extremely vague, yet he had only three minutes time to achieve something?

That was a shame. What Starboy would have really wanted to, and really needed to do first, was to analyze who exactly was this woman, and what was she here to do. And why did she have the ability to comment on his performance so far? Star swore that he had never seen her before... Yet she was adamantly familiar with him?

Then again, situations and challenges like these were the spice of life for a superhero. He just needed to perform.

Still, the supposed timer, if there was one, had probably reached already 2:45, or at least 2:50, before the hero finally seemed to spring into action. It clearly took some time trying to process it all - and things weren't getting any easier now as he had to figure out how to first get himself back up, and then try to find and gain possession of some key while having his wrists still bound behind his back.

Starboy was tempted to protest just a little. "Well, would you mind to free my hands first?" But no. That wasn't the way to go. Obviously, the villainess would have already done so, should she had wished to grant him the privilege.

Thus, a struggle ensued, albeit only with Starboy by himself in the locked up cell. It must had taken at least fifteen seconds, if not thirty for the aspiring hero to finally get himself back up to his two feet, and start taking in his surroundings properly now.

Of course, it was dark. Of course, he could see next to nothing. Of course, he had no idea where any key might had been.

The lucky part was that keys tended to shine any light reaching them. Or at least that's what he guessed?

Star began roaming around the cell, trying to observe any cuts in the walls, holes in the corners, or bumps on the floor where he could find something like a key. But perhaps unsurprisingly, he wasn't detecting even a hint of one.

Eventually, the hero succumbed to the need to get at least an update from the villainess issuing the challenge. "How much time left?"

[DSX93]

"Tick. Tock."

Her

was every last bit as dainty as she appeared, her words thickly laced with her Romanian heritage. The thorns of the Sanguinarian Rose would, for the moment, show through her ruby red eyes in particular. And they were indeed like stone: Unmoving, unblinking, capturing every passing moment.

No, she would indeed not be doing any more than that. He's the hero walking inside to face an unknown number of opponents, so he can figure it out. Maybe he has some aces waiting up that proverbial sleeve of his.

"One minute, forty-five seconds." She wasn't actually counting them down, and there wasn't a clock to do it officially, either. Lacramioara wasn't entirely unsporting, however. The key had been placed in a spot where...

"Oh. Right."

She began, her lips curling up on one side, into a taunting smirk...

"The key."

...That would tell him: His failure to locate it was not his, nor was it an accident. She lifted an arm from her side, turning her eyes to her wrist. The spot where it had been kept beneath her detached sleeve. Without even the slightest sense of urgency, she'd produce it and toss it inside the cell.

"Forgive me. When you reach my age, the little details tend to slip your mind." That wouldn't stop her from stating, however, "One minute, thirty seconds."