Pulp. Part 2.

The pressure pads worked! We we're in...

And almost immediately met our first obstacle. Casey Janetty - remember him? The man-girl popstar? The one who did coke off out of the bellybuttons of prostitutes? "I'm ready for fun"?

Yeah. I'm not surprised you've never heard of him. Number 12 hit, followed by a number 8, then nothing. He dropped off of the map. In and out of rehab and the Betty Ford clinic. 

Now, stood in front of us - he looked just like... Nothing. Neither male, nor female or...

I'm getting ahead of myself, in my head.

He was right there. Like he was waiting for us.

"New recruits?" He said. We'd gotten off lucky. It was admissions season. They had plenty of new faces. "That area is for deliveries and maintenance staff only.". 

"Uh... Sorry." I said. It smiled and gestured to the room we were stood in. "I'm sure there's enough here without exploring too far away from the grounds... Or in places you shouldn't be.". That last part curled up like a question - a fair warning. "Sure, It'll never happen again.".

As for the room. It was huge, and a garish purple covered the walls. In the foyer, we're more drunks, fuckers and "blowpipers". The celebration of life - The baccae, if ever I saw it. An orgy of sin. The stairs were just as bad. I swear I saw a former child actor, all grown up and choking on someone else's... It doesn't matter.

After Janetty had sauntered away, Frank whispered to me. "This doesn't seem like the type of crowd who need scientists.". He was right. This just seemed like your run of the mill celebrity party... Just going on all the time. But they were there. We knew they were.

We headed across the way, to the next upstairs room, opposite the exit to the serving station, as Janetty had called it. It was a dining room. We decided to use it as a meeting point. 

All of the information in the next part comes from the audio logs of my team members.

TO BE CONTINUED.