cinquante-sex
[A dull click is heard in the background, and a slow drip-drip of water on concrete.]
Wh-... what the hell-
[The sound of rustling fabric breaks the silence, and then the click of a pulled light switch echoes.]
The door. There it is.
[Footsteps sound on the concrete, and a doorknob, rusty, is turned while a chain and broken padlock clang against each other and the door. The door only yields a wooden thud - it's locked and securely.]
Damnit.
[A click of a recording device sounds, and a distorted voice begins to speak.]
"Hello, Doctor Kazutaka Muraki. I want to play a game with you. You may notice that you are locked within this basement, and you may also feel a curious sensation coursing through your veins. Never fear, it's just the poison. The key to your freedom, and your health, lies within that furnace - surely you've not missed it. You have half an hour to use the antidote, or the poison will kill you. Not to worry, though - that should be plenty of time.
Remember, Doctor. [pause.] Once in Hell, only the Devil can help you out."
[The recording device clicks off, and a loud clatter of plastic on the floor echoes.]
That's not as difficult-...
[A rusty creak sounds - he's opened the furnace door. A small groan, and he's in, metallic thuds paced just as he crawls in, elbows and knees on the metal of the furnace.]
Ah... There you are~.
[His voice sounds smug as he pulls the key from one chain and the syringe full of the antidote on the other. A loud clank, though, indicates something wrong - the door he climbed in through has been shut. A soft hissing sound doesn't help matters, and he kicks the door three times.]
Damnit-!
[He's interrupted by a sudden eruption of flames. A sharp exhalation - his shins are burned now - and then a short yell. However, his yell is stopped once he sees a painting of a devil pointing to something - a knob. "Twist". The knob is rusty, but it twists gradually. The hissing ceases, and the flames die down. All that's left is the hissing of pain Muraki lets out - his shins, arms, and one shoulder are burned far worse than the rest of him.]
... Tricky little bastard.
[His voice is a mixture of anger, amusement, and slight exhaustion as he says those words. With a few more harsh kicks to the door, it opens, and the door shuts again as footsteps - far slower than they had been - interrupt the silence.]
[ooc: cut for the easily squeamish - Muraki basically got a slightly altered version of the furnace trap.]