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[right][h2] MP-2011-JB; Justin Böhmer[/h2][/right]
[right][h2] [color=purple]Purple[/color] Containment - The Ward [/h2][/right]
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A young-ish man, with a scrawny build and an almost gaunt face made dirty by rough stubble, crouched down at the entrance to the cage he'd awoken in. In his hands were the shards of a disassembled and broken fountain pen, improvised into a particularly crude and ineffective lockpick.

He had awoken a few hours ago, his head crawling and reeling, and by instinct alone he'd taken his medication before even asking himself the question of where he was - or indeed, who had put him there. It surely wasn't the kind of place he'd have gone on his own, or willingly at all; a cross between a prison cell and a side room in an especially unpleasant psychiatric hospital, the walls plastered with intricate drawings and writings, dotted and crossed with references to an obscure role playing game. Initially, he had gotten distracted by the details, flicking between pages and scanning the text of what seemed like stories written by a pair called Beobach and Klaus. It had occurred to the young man that he might have been one of the two, and he'd briefly compared his handwriting - but the only unifying factor there was that none of the three of them could write legibly anyway.

After that, he'd paced the room and inspected its contents, having already figured out that the front door was locked in a way he couldn't naturally fuck with. That had gone on for one and a half hours before the wretched whine of what might once have been an alarm went off, and the fluorescent lights in the room had started to flicker on and off.

Then he'd heard voices.

The door to his cell looked to be a construct of steel mesh, with copper wires running in the space between the two front surfaces, and a glass viewing window. The copper he figured was part of a Faraday cage - and a fragment of his inner self instinctively knew both why it was there, and that he had to break through it.

Click, click. Click. Clack.

The door didn't budge.

"Schieße!" He snarled as he caught a finger in the lock.

Whatever the thoughts roiling in the back of his head were, the locks and the keys they contained were clearly not physical - and whatever he was meant to be doing, it wasn't with his hands.

"Fuck. Hey yo, is anyone out there? I'm stuck in here, I can't do shit."