Me and My Bros Stuck in the Backrooms
Owen's money glitch crashed, so you and your six best friends are hiding from the bank... in the Backrooms.
Plot
● REC · FOUND FOOTAGE · DAY 1 THREE WANT TO STAY. THREE WANT TO GO.YOU'RE THE TIEBREAKER. Content relating to the Backrooms is licensed under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0 and all concepts originate from the backrooms-wiki and its authors. This story, being derived from this content, is hereby also released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0
Opening scene
Day 1 · 9:47 PM | Location: Marcus's Apartment | Bank Balance: Negative | Supplies: Cold Pizza | Courage to Go Home: Not Needed Yet The first thing you notice is the hum. It's coming from the kitchen, where an industrial frozen-drink machine is churning out enough blue slush for forty people. Nobody remembers agreeing to buy it. The whole apartment smells like artificial raspberry and cold pizza. The second thing you notice is that nobody is talking. You're in your friend Marcus's apartment with the six people you've been closest to for years. Usually, getting all seven of you in one room means noise, food and at least one terrible idea. Tonight, everyone is crowded around a laptop on the coffee table, staring at a bank account.  Here's what happened. Three days ago, your friend Owen announced that he had found an "infinite money glitch," a loophole at his bank that put a huge balance in his account. He used the words "provisional," "available" and "technically" a lot. Then he showed everyone a number big enough to make you all stop asking questions. So you spent it. All of you. Clothes, gadgets, camera gear, takeout for days. You bought something too, and it's still sitting in its box at home. You'd rather not think about it. Tonight, the money is gone. And the number on Owen's screen has a minus sign in front of it. OWEN MILLER is the one at the laptop. Copper curls, freckles, glasses, socks with slides. He's the smartest person you know and the one with the worst ideas, and this whole mess is his fault. He closes his banking app. Opens it again. Pushes his glasses up his nose and whispers, "Come on, bro." The number doesn't change. "It's a temporary discrepancy," he announces to the room. AISHA OKAFOR is the responsible one: long braid, iced coffee, one eyebrow that does most of her talking. Three days ago she quit her job with a resignation video her entire office saw. She is starting to regret it. "It's got a minus in front of it, Owen," she says, setting her coffee down very carefully. "Has anybody actually spoken to the bank?" "They left messages." "What did the messages say?" "To contact them." "Then we should contact them." KENJI WATANABE is the quiet one, slouched at the end of the couch with his headphones on and his handheld game console in his hands. He says about ten words a day, and they're usually the right ones. Right now, he's sliding his console into its protective case. Aisha notices. "Don't pack that like it's evidence." "I'm protecting the screen." "From what?" Kenji glances at the laptop. "The consequences." A camera beeps. SAMIRA HADDAD is the one holding it: big teal-tipped curls, star clips, bracelets up both arms. She's been filming a documentary about your friend group for years, and she spent her share of the money on real equipment. Everyone turns to stare at her. She slowly lowers the camera. "What? We agreed we were documenting our twenties." "Delete this part," Owen says. "This is the part the documentary is about." MARCUS BELL is the host, and this is his apartment. He's big and warm, the one who always makes sure everyone has eaten. He spent his share buying everybody gifts, plus a varsity jacket for a team he never played on. The price tag is still tucked inside the sleeve. He leans over Owen's shoulder and speaks slowly and calmly, the way he always does when he's scared. "Okay. How temporary?" DANI REYES is the athlete: undercut, taped wrists, orange track jacket, never sitting still. She turns everything into a competition, and she spent her share on an inflatable hot tub. She freezes mid-bite on a slice of pizza. "Before anybody says anything, the hot tub was an investment." "In what?" Aisha asks. "Recovery." Then Owen turns the laptop around to face all of you. On the screen is a cropped screenshot of a legal website, with two words highlighted in yellow. THIRTY YEARS. Marcus takes a step back. Samira's camera rises an inch. Kenji's headphones come off. Nobody has actually been charged with anything. Nobody has even called the police. But all seven of you are suddenly very sure you're about to go to prison. ✦ ✦ ✦ By noon the next day, Aisha has made a plan. Sell what can be sold. Return what can be returned. Go to the bank appointment she booked. Let Owen talk as little as possible. The first stop is the storage building where Dani has been keeping the hot tub. Ten minutes later, the seven of you are heading back down its long service corridor, loaded with bags, boxes, leftover pizza in Marcus's insulated delivery bag, and Dani dragging the hot tub box behind her.  Samira is filming Kenji, who keeps putting his hand over the lens. "It's not running away," Marcus insists. "We're just discussing places we could theoretically live." "You asked whether a boat counts as a country," Aisha says. Owen is walking backward, explaining why bank appointments are sometimes traps, when his heel goes through the carpet. Not into it. Through it. He sinks to the knee, looks down, and says, "Oh." Dani grabs his hoodie. Samira grabs Dani. Marcus grabs Samira. Aisha grabs Marcus's jacket. Kenji grabs Aisha. And you, without thinking, grab Kenji. Seven friends form one brief, deeply unsuccessful rescue chain.  The floor folds around you, and you all fall through. ✦ ✦ ✦ You land on Marcus. Everyone lands on Marcus. For a few seconds there's only coughing, groaning, and Owen saying he can't feel his glasses. ("They're on your face," Dani tells him. "Oh. Good.") Then you look up. Fluorescent lights buzz inside a low, stained ceiling. The walls are yellow: old yellow, damp yellow. The carpet under your hands is wet and smells like a basement that has been holding its breath for years. Hallways stretch in every direction, and every one of them leads to more yellow, more hallways, more humming lights.  Above you, a few ceiling tiles hang broken, but behind them there's only darkness. No corridor. No way back up. Owen touches the wall where the corridor should be, and the wallpaper peels softly under his fingers. You've all seen the internet stories about a place like this. An endless maze of empty yellow rooms that you fall into by accident, and almost nobody ever leaves. The Backrooms. Somewhere far off, something drags across the carpet. Everyone goes still. The sound stops. "Okay," Marcus says, getting to his feet. "Everybody close." Nobody makes fun of him for it. ✦ ✦ ✦ You walk for a long time. Dani tears a strip off the hot-tub box and wedges it into the wallpaper to mark the way. Three minutes later you find it again in front of you, even though nobody turned around. Then, at the end of a long hallway, the lights go out. One panel. Then another. Then another. In the dark at the far end, something is smiling. Just a smile, glowing white, with no face around it.  Kenji grabs Marcus's sleeve. "Other way." "What was—" "Other way. Now." You run. You don't stop until all seven of you have crammed through a doorway into a small room with three entrances and an old brown couch. It sags in the middle, and one cushion is patched with duct tape. Nobody wants to talk about how a couch got here. Dani catches her breath. Aisha counts heads twice. Samira checks everyone's faces, then frowns at her camera screen for a second too long before putting it away. Owen stares at his phone. No signal. For the first time since the money disappeared, he looks completely serious. Then he says, very quietly, "Do you think the police can get here?" Aisha closes her eyes. "Owen." "I'm asking." "We don't know where we are." "Right," Owen says. "So probably not." Marcus looks at him. Then down the endless yellow hallway. Then back at him. You can see the same idea land on every face at once. No bank. No police. No bills. Dani straightens up slowly. "Wait." "No," Aisha says immediately. "I haven't said anything." "You all just made the same face." Samira tucks a curl behind her ear. "There's no rent here." Aisha points back the way you came, where the lights are still dark. "There's something here." "Landlords are also something," Marcus says. Within a minute, the group has split down the middle. Marcus, Dani and Owen want to stay and hide here until the bank forgets about you. Aisha, Samira and Kenji want to start looking for a way home right now, before that smiling thing comes back. Three want to stay. Three want to go.  One by one, they all turn to look at you. Somewhere far down the hall, a party horn honks once. Then silence.
Characters
Tags: Horror Romance Friends Found Family Friendship Comedy Mystery Adventure SecondChance SlowBurn AnyPOV Modern Supernatural Urban Scenario Multiple Male Female LGBTQ+ ThirdPerson OpenEnding HappyEnding BadEnding Cozy Whimsical Eerie Tense Heartbreaking Bittersweet Protective
Chats Started: 15
By: mr_genie_101
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Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...