I don't have a white horse, but you can come along for the ride.

[leverage_hitter]

Who: Eliot Spencer
When: Late evening, arriving at the Hotel.
Where: The lobby.
What: Eliot hates surprises...

Comments

[torchwood_doc]

Owen Harper had been dodging up and down the staircase for rather longer than he liked (or had intended to),in an attempt to find the medical unit so he could add to the small kit he always carried in his back pack. The Hotel was clearly in the mood for playing silly buggers and his frustration with it was rising by the minute.

He'd just given the wall a swift kick, when he heard voices and realised there was someone in the Lobby, turning around he watched as a member of the Hotel staff did its usual disappearing trick.

"They do that a lot," he said, walking towards the new arrival.

[leverage_hitter]

"I don't like it," he growled automatically. Then he turned to get a good look at the new voice. Nobody he knew. Didn't appear to be a threat. Then again, in a situation like this, everyone was a threat. He shoved the credit card receipt into his jacket pocket.

"What the hell is going on here?"

[torchwood_doc]

Owen snorted. "Good question. Probably get a slightly different answer, depending on who you ask. Me? I'd say we're just lab rats, trapped in a very comfortable maze."

Watching idly as the man put his card and receipt away, he nodded in their general direction. "You didn't have to do that, everything's free around here." Smirking, he added, "It probably just wanted your signature, for some weird reason- there do seem to be rules it follows." Not that he knew what they were!

[leverage_hitter]

Eliot didn't have the slightest idea what the man was talking about, but the words 'lab rats' and 'maze' made his blood run cold. He'd met more than a few people who enjoyed watching helpless people dance for their amusement, but he had usually been at least aware of who was playing the music.

"How can everything be free? And what do you mean we're trapped? My car's right outside..." Running away wasn't his favorite tactic, but he knew the value of fleeing a situation in which the deck was stacked against him.

[torchwood_doc]

"They let you in, they don't let you out," Owen replied, his voice even and unbothered, he'd met enough new arrivals to know they got the hang of things soon enough. "Like I said, lab rats. Very well fed, living in the lap of luxury, but lab rats just the same- oh, and you'll probably find your car's been moved to the garage, or it will be at some point. Not that it matter either way, if you try and drive away, you won't get very far."

[leverage_hitter]

The car thing got him moving. He stalked to the lobby door and shoved it open only to find that the man was correct. His car was not parked outside any longer. It had damn well better be in a garage somewhere, or someone was going to pay.

"Son of a..." He looked back at Owen. "How is this even happening? Who's responsible?"

He was being played. He didn't like it.

[torchwood_doc]

"Haven't the foggiest- no one has," he replied, then casually followed in the other man's footsteps when he went to check on his car.

"Name's Owen Harper, by the way."

[leverage_hitter]

Eliot blinked at the man's introduction, hesitating a half second before he responded. He had no way of knowing how much the guy really knew or if he was involved in whatever was going on here. Still, the general rule stood... stay in character.

"Robert Morrison. Special Agent." He flashed the FBI badge, still frowning. "Have you contacted anyone about this place?"

[torchwood_doc]

Owen glanced at the badge and he just couldn't resist. Hunting through his pockets for his wallet, he flipped it open briefly. "Chief Medic, Torchwood," he announced, waving it theatrically under the other man's nose, before returning it back into his jacket. "Bit difficult, all comms have been cut off- apart from an internal network we all use. Can't get out, can't contact the outside world."

[leverage_hitter]

He scowled at the badge antics. "What the hell is Torchwood?"

His mind was already turning over the communication problem. Assuming what Owen said was true, he was hoping that the satellite signal the communication earbuds worked on would still function. Of course, he had no idea how far out of range he was. Damn it.

[torchwood_doc]

"Very hush-hush," Owen replied, winking conspiratorially. "We go back to Victoria," he added. He'd often half expected to find Albert in the Hub freezers when he'd had to check on the state of some of the older drawers.

"Beyond the government, outside... something or other, or was it the other way around?" He mused, trying to remember how it went. "Jack's better with all that crap than I am. I just dissect stuff and patch people up."

[leverage_hitter]

Eliot's worked with (and against) the SIS a fair number of times in his past, but Torchwood was a new one on him. Then again, he supposed it could just be one conman's way of acknowledging another. Grifting wasn't his specialty. Especially not when he was this worn out and frustrated.

"Nice to meet you, doctor." He said, instead of addressing the issue of agencies further. "I'm glad to hear it's 'dissect stuff' and 'patch people up' rather than the other way around."

Because if anybody could inadvertently find his way to some Dr. Frankenstein, cannibal hotel in the middle of nowhere, it was Eliot.

[torchwood_doc]

Owen smirked, then nodded, avoiding commenting about autopsies. He still wasn't overly sure if that badge was genuine or not, but that was more Jack's department than his.

"They give you a key?" He asked, although it was more a statement of fact than a question.

[leverage_hitter]

The key question threw him. He hadn't asked or even looked for one. A glance around the lobby deepened his scowl. There was a key right there on the front desk. Right where he couldn't have missed it before.

"Apparently, they did," he muttered. He walked back over to the desk to pick up the key. The attached tag said 306. "Is this the way things usually work around here?"

[torchwood_doc]

"Pretty much," Owen replied, then added, "You get used to it- eventually." Not that it annoyed you any less sometimes, but there wasn't much you could do about it. "Your room's on the third floor," he added, in a vague attempt at being helpful.

"This place is pretty much a law onto its self- in more ways than one. Our bedrooms don't move, or the floors they are on, but most of the others do."

[leverage_hitter]

He had no intention of getting used to it, but he could see there was no point in arguing it. The guy was either nuts or in on it. Or both. Particularly the bit about the rooms moving.

"The rooms move? What, like a carnival fun house?"