Tokusatsu musebox

Joe had been feeling relatively relaxed, right up until Basco left, the infirmary door hissed shut behind him, and Joe found himself abruptly alone in a strange ship, possibly locked in and too paranoid to go anywhere alone, in case he accidentally screwed up the automatically adjusting life support system and hurt one of his two possible benefactors. That would be the absolute worst thing that could happen, he figures, so even if the door isn't locked, he's still effectively trapped, by his own worries anyway.

The system that runs their life support was incredibly well programmed, though, and it wasn't long before Joe stopped feeling like he needed to blink three times as frequently as usual. Taking this as a good sign, he slipped the mask off his face and took a cautious breath to make sure.

The air was breathable, maybe a little drier than he was used to, but not bad. At least he wasn't tethered to the table anymore.

He got up and paced for a while, testing most of his limbs to make sure he was still relatively functional, and tried not to over-think Basco's parting words. Without a chronometer, and with no idea whether they're still orbiting the planet, or travelling through space or possibly orbiting some other heavenly body, Joe has no idea how long has passed between Basco leaving, and Basco's promised return to 'set him up' in his own quarters.

Joe's admittedly a little excited at the prospect, even if it is temporary. He doesn't remember having ever had a space of his own. Raised in a Zangyack-run orphanage, he went straight into the military as soon as he was considered old enough to start training up properly.

What a joke, in retrospect.

Still, the idea of having a room all to himself is distracting enough that he doesn't even think to ask Basco any more of the questions he'd mulled over during his time alone, or unfortunately to pay too much attention to the micro-tour Basco seems to be giving him as they move through the ship and, apparently, down into the living quarters.

The room Basco leads him into, and then promptly leaves him in, is about as large as Sid-senpai's quarters had been, as a Captain. But, if possible, even more sparse. A bed, a side table, and a chest of drawers. Joe wonders who these rooms were originally meant for, whether it's just a converted holding cell or not.

He wonders a lot of things, as trapped in this room as he was in the infirmary.

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Scenarios (You can use RNG to choose for you, or pick yourself)

1. Trapped outside your house: Maybe that super-duper, ultra-fancy security system with the ridiculously long passcode that can only be opened from the inside wasn't such a good idea, was it? And does that look like rain to you? Oh yeah, you're right. It looks more like hail.

2. Trapped in your house: You've locked yourself in, you're on house arrest, or you don't want to lock yourself out by leaving. Maybe you're not even at your house. Maybe you're trapped in someone else's house, at a party, or by a bet, or a robbery gone wrong. Just find a way out before you start shooting the walls out of boredom.

3. Lost: You're not trapped, you're more... lost. Yeah, if you could find that object of your desire you could get out of this hellhole. Unfortunately, the powers that be won't allow that. So continues the quest for the holy grail. Though, it doesn't help that you have to go to the bathroom, your friend's goldfish is dying, and that big screen Plasma TV is getting heavier by the second.

4. Waiting: Whether it be a long line, a car ride, or god forbid, the dreaded doctor's waiting room, ain't no getting out of this one.

5. Self-imposed lockdown: Before you can rejoin society, you have to get all that demon blood out of your system or get over that addiction. Or perhaps it's more crack-worthy. WE'RE NOT LEAVING UNTIL THAT FLY IS DEAD/THAT PEN IS FOUND/OUR DIRTY SECRETS ARE OUT IN THE OPEN. AND IF WE CAN'T DO IT, OUR CHILDREN'S CHILDEN WILL DO IT!

6. You're literally trapped: Maybe your head is stuck between two bars or you're stuck in a window. Point is, you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Metaphorically, of course. Or maybe you actually are, I don't know.

7. Oh, here's the metaphorical one: You just go through the motions everyday, you watch everyone else live their lives, and that rut just gets bigger and deeper. What to do?

8. Trapped in an elevator: We just couldn't take the stairs, could we?

9. Trapped in a crowd: Maybe you're on a packed train or just a hallway where everyone has stopped walking and created a bottle neck. Or maybe you ended up in the middle of a mosh pit. Hope the person next to you is wearing deodorant.

10. Choose your own hellhole!

It's been about a week, as far as Joe can tell. He makes a mark on the wall of the quarters he's kept in (he does his best not to even think of the room as 'his') every night, when Basco inevitably retrieves him from wherever he's been and locks him into the room. He's not sure why, as he feels much less like a prisoner than he has any right to. He supposes maybe he's trying to find some kind of pattern.

Being given nearly free reign of the ship comes as a surprise, honestly. Not that Basco trusts him, that much is obvious. The first day he was allowed to wander around, Joe did probably exactly what Basco expected him to do, and tried to go to all of the handful of places he quickly learned he wasn't allowed to go. The brig first, but of course Sally was there to block his way and herd him back up into the main area of the ship. Next he tries where he thinks he might remember the infirmary being, to see Gai, but Sally thwarts him there, too. Which at least lets him know he was right about his concept of the layout of the ship.

Other areas consistently blocked by the monkey include the engine room and the main bridge. That makes sense, and Joe takes heart in the fact that Basco still doesn't trust him enough to let him near anything that might be potentially sabotaged.

He's still waiting for the next of Basco's little tests. He needs to fix things, he has to get the others free. That's all that matters. That's his driving focus.

He finds himself spending a lot of time in the galley. He doesn't really know how to cook, but he's trying. It's a decent distraction, plus he likes making himself think about what Don would prepare for him, what Don would want for him to eat. He needs to get stronger.

He also spends an inordinate amount of time in the room he figures is Basco's personal quarters, considering how opulently appointed the room is. Not when Basco is there, and he doesn't poke around too much, just in case. Mostly he just sits on the large bed that reminds him too much of Marvelous, and he tries to figure out what Basco wants from him, what the tests might be, how he'll win, what will happen once he finally earns Marvelous' freedom (he tells himself he will, he has to).

And at night, when Basco locks him in, he sleeps. On the Galleon, he'd rarely slept more than a few hours in a night. He didn't need an excess of sleep the way Marvelous did. He'd liked to get the bulk of his exercise regimen out of the way in the wee hours of the morning, without the distractions of the crew. But now he has the daytime to exercise, when he's not cooking, eating or thinking. And at night, the long hours Basco obviously sleeps, he has nothing better to do inside his supposed quarters, and so he sleeps too. He needs to get stronger.

He usually wakes up when Basco unlocks the door, but this day, after a week or so has passed, he wakes up in an entirely different way.

With a cord around his throat.

Joe wakes up slowly, and at first he isn't sure where he is. Not surprising, all things considered. His first instinct, when he shifts and rolls over onto his side and feels the telltale tug and pull of bandaging, is that there was a battle and he was wounded. Fair enough, but that doesn't explain the red that floods his vision when he finally opens his eyes. There are plenty of rooms on the Galleon that are similarly monochrome, but not this particular shade of red.

That's when it comes back to him, in fits and starts, like a slowly developing painting, or a puzzle being cautiously fit together. Basco, he thinks, and for the first time in his memory since meeting them man, the thought isn't accompanied by feelings of revulsion and anger.

Quite the opposite, and Joe's stomach does a series of twists and knots when he thinks about... everything. How long ago was it? Might have been days, when he takes into account the bandages, the growl in his stomach...

One thing is distinctly different, though. The chains that had been holding him to the wall aren't looped around his wrists anymore. A mistake, on Basco's part? Joe doesn't think so. For one thing, Basco isn't too likely to make mistakes. And for another, Joe isn't sure it counts as a mistake when he doesn't immediately contemplate getting up and trying to escape.

He also isn't sure if it would count as escape anyway. He doesn't want to go anywhere, not yet. He wants to find out more about... Not what happened, but what's going to happen. He and Basco shared something, whether Basco knows it or not. And now Joe needs to know more.