An Impromptu event: Chapter 1 - The morning after.

*Authors note: Thoughts will be placed in inverted commas, ( ' ' ), and highlighted in italics.*

He rolled away from the incessant ringing of the alarm clock before his sleep addled mind could recall that he wasn't in his comfortable double bed.

"Ugh..."

Lifting his head from the cold floor panel he pulled himself onto his elbows and knees, shaking from the effort coupled with the leftover toxins in his system, he straightened up. Having fallen rather awkwardly, his keys pressed into his thigh, he limped around uttering a few choice words about the situation while massaging his shoulder and face. Dragging his hands through his hair then rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he suddenly realised that he wasn't in his own flat. 'I didn't make it home... Well this headache goes some way to explaining that.' He thought to himself that getting so drunk that you can't remember what you did or how you got somewhere is still very bad. 'I swear I will never get this drunk again. This hangover is punishment enough.' He thought while rubbing his temples. 'Don't think it would be appropriate to take somebody else's painkillers. Man up Dave.'

'Now, where the hell am I? Hang on. Better make sure I didn't lose anything last night!'

Phone: There that was down the side of the sofa, still beeping incessantly, he swiped the screen to deactivate the alarm and saw he had no signal and next to no battery. 'Best turn it off for now.'

Wallet: Still there, still with £130 pounds and some shrapnel inside. 'How is that possible? I set out with £130 and managed to get seriously drunk...'

Further rifling in the pockets brought out a set of keys, a biro and an odd looking oblong. It looked strangely like a USB, only slightly longer, coloured stark glossy white and without a connector. 'Wonder what that is?'

'Oh well, got everything important.' Converse on, socks on, jeans on,

'I'm glad I didn't lose my keys. Even if keeping them in my pockets means I end up with a sore thigh.' He thought while massaging his thigh.

Belts still on, shirts on, a bit untucked, jackets rolled up as a pillow on the sofa.

And a blanket furled up at the bottom end of the sofa. 'Where did that come from? Who gave it to me? For that matter, who owns this flat?' He was sure his impromptu meeting with the floor should have woken up anyone within a few apartments, but all he could hear was the dull whizz of traffic outside. 'Well, best not to hang around, it definitely looks like I was in a state last night, judging from the fact I slept on the sofa and that I couldn't get myself home. I'd best write a note of apology for... whatever happened last night. And to say thank you for the sofa and blanket.'

The apartment didn't look in too bad nick; in fact it was actually a very nice apartment, very modern. Electronic blinds, thankfully closed, white tiling on the floor and a little way up the wall. From there on it was all window until another layer of white tiling and then yet more window up to the ceiling, which was covered in the same white panels as the other walls in the place. The only lights in the room seemed to be free standing or hidden away behind some of the panels, providing a soft glow around their edges. The design made the high ceilinged room feel light and airy even with the blinds closed as they were now. 'Nice.' It did make it impossible to judge time from how much daylight was available, and his phone was off. He wondered what the view outside was like, but his headache throbbed particularly loudly in protest to that idea. 'Better not.'

The apartment seemed to be mostly open plan, in keeping with the open airy feel of the place. He seemed to be in the sitting area, there were several sofas in the sitting area 2 arranged in an L shape and upholstered black leather. There was one against the full wall and another backed against the slight curvature of the window. This section of the room was slightly isolated by a white protrusion from the floor not unlike those beneath the windows. It cut a small alcove out for the sofas and a display cabinet down a narrower opening. The protrusion extended from the wall and had a potted plant at the end that looked much like an Aloe Vera, but one that did not the have spiked edges to it's leaves. There was another of these plants further along the windowed wall and then another sofa. On the other side of the protrusion was a wide, white stair case with a small lower ceilinged alcove to the left that had some bookshelves and a desk surface fixed to the wall at a height that made it easy to use standing up or sitting down. The alcove continued round the back of the stairs and there was a piece of art hung on the far wall. Opposite the stairs the window merged into white panelling and a square opening in the wall lead down to a circular door to what he assumed was the exit to the apartment. 'Looks like a futuristic hobbit hole.' There was another of these circular doors on the adjacent wall to the square opening. To the left of this was a raised section of floor that had within it a very nice looking kitchen and dining area, all in the same plain, clinical white of the floor and walls. He could only presume that up the stairs was where the bedroom was as it would fit with the flow of the rest of the apartment.

This was almost as nice as his parents' country house back home. However they contrasted in almost every way. The old house was traditional, wood panelling, mounted dear horns and old paintings with rugs and furniture adorning the hard wood floors. Large sweeping staircases with carpet pinned down to them by highly polished brass bars in the groove of each step. 'This place is lovely.' This was the kind of place he could see himself in if he were a successful inner city business man or lawyer. The key word being 'if'.

'Anyway, writing a note.'

Having got his bearings within the place he headed to the small alcove which looked quiet and removed enough to be a study. He had his biro out and resting between his teeth and bottom lip.

'Now, if I were paper where would I be?'

After a few minutes fruitless searching he decided he would have to look elsewhere. All that was in the office was some strange E-Reader like devices with a square cut out at the top and a full qwerty keyboard below with some extra buttons for some figures he didn't recognise. 'Guess the paperwork you have to do to afford a place like this is going to be in more than one language.'

It was at this point he looked up with a furtive glance to check he was alone, still trying to keep up the impression that he was being quiet and respectful to whoever lived here. Speaking of whoever lived here, there was a picture on the desk. Looked like an electric photo frame that flipped through a few photos. They were mostly photos of a small looking child who evidently liked to dress up as she was painted all over in an azure, aqua marine colour and had some kind of tentacle head dress on. The paint had given her skin a leathery texture and the headdress was the same shade of blue, but with white stripes painted horizontally down each tentacle esque piece. 'Weird. Well the kid looks happy enough, who didn't enjoy a little make believe as they were growing up? Strange that there weren't any photos of the child when she wasn't dressing up though.'

It was at this point a small cough caught his attention and he straightened up to his full height to see what looked like a woman of about forty in the same dress up as the child. However she had face paintings, plain tentacles, no eyebrows, or ears and must certainly have spent a long time getting dressed up as the paint looked very, very real! She was also wearing armour!It seemed to be made from plates fixed onto a kind of weave. Needless to say he took a few shocked steps backwards in shock before hitting the wall, crunching down on his plastic biro between his teeth and looking dumbstruck at the woman standing in front of him.

"Umh, hello. Sorry. I meant not to wake you, I'm sorry."

"Yes, well that's rather irrelevant now." She said.

She brought both hands up and shifter her left leg back into a stable stance. One hand was holding what was clearly a pistol; the other was raised empty towards him, glowing with an amazing deep blue energy that seemed to swirl around the fingers like flames.

'Biotics. This can't be real.' He thought, too stunned to speak.

"Now, would you care to explain just how you arrived on Illium?"