(I need to know how to make Ancient Egyptian Spoiler tags. Until then, I'm gonna use parenthesies as OOC. You see, I traversed over half the east coast of the US in the past two days. I expected to do the whole 15-hour trip in one go, but it was just too much.
But I'm here now! ^^ And just in time, too, it seems. I guess I'll post the introduction now.)

Sitting in a Starbucks- a painfully common sight in New York these days- Emma sampled a frozen lemonade. It was pleasingly tart, but the artificial-ness of the tart preturbed her. She began to read a Fine Living periodical, engrossed in a risotto rice pudding recipe.
Meanwhile, the doors of a Starbucks burst open, and two white-garbed men walked in, surveying the franchaise. Everyone paused, and the people behind the counter slid, slowly out of their sight under the pastry case. There were only sever customers at the time, and the two suits, more imposing than a dogfight between a pit bull and a pomeranian, wandered to each of them. The men examined each patron, sometimes merely looking into their faces, at others, roughly handling them by the shoulders.
The silence was broken by the sound of a dial tone.
The two figures looked at each others, then hastily, but imposingly, walked out of the resturant.

Back at Emma's Starbucks, the "garcon" walked from behind the counter, and listened intently on their fancy cell-phone. After some seemingly noncensical chatter, he hung up, said something to the other worker, and began to close shop. With an announcement, most of the customers with their fancy beverages, but Emma requested a biscotti for the road.
The teenager behind the counter glared at her, just as the doors swung open, dispite the "closed" sign.
The two men locked their gaze with Emma, as the one on the left asked, "Are you Emma Fletcher?"
The waiter boy, who had been wrapping up her twice-baked treat, was unable to suppress a laugh, then realised the possibly dangerous situation he was in and his face went blank.
"Can I at least finish my biscotti?" she asked, suspecting these to be a few of the hired hands out to get her. She'd had a lot of these sort of things before, men in fancy suits and cars, being abcucted and waking up in a wedding dress. In fact, she might have been married in some South American country. She couldn't speak Spanish, though, so she ignored the possibility.
The two men, who would have not heard her mental recollection, sat down in a nearby chair and requested, "Chai mocha" while the other asked for some drink with sprinkles that she had never heard of, nor seen on the menu. Nonetheless, the boy made their drinks with eeriy (spelling?) accuracy, and were graced with someone waiting on them in starbucks. Emma sat across from them, munching her biscotti in silence.
When they were finished, they stood, and she followed suit. They motioned for the door, and she obliged, walking a few feet ahead of them. She then felt the feeling of cloth over her face, and the unmistakable chemical reek of one of the many knockout cocktails available on the market. She's pretty sure she'd been knocked out by this specific vapor before, but she went unconcious before she recalled where.
In who knows how much longer later, she layed on the floor in a room that seemed a Dungeon's and Dragon's dream room, with a big round table and far too much seating for the small space. Only instead of D&D paraphenalia, there were old magazines, most of which she had no intrest in. She heard the sound of the door creak, and she hid as best she could behind one of the large chairs.
Somehow, she fell asleep, suprisingly soundly despite the many people coming and going and the squeaky hinge. She jolted awake when she heard a male voice say, "Emma and Ares, please come with me." She stood up, still caught in the nonscencical physics of sleep, and proceeded to fall over the back of the chair, legs in the air and face inches from the ground. She came to full conciousness, and proceeded to flip backwards onto the table. There, she stood, sucessfully avoided to slip on the periodicals, and hopped to the floor. (stading this time) Emma straightened her coat, and looked up at the others, smiling.

Reasonable Doubt:

Spoiler: Click to View

(That Can't be good...)

Speed looks to his new teammates. "Uh guys, I think that door to the far left (Door #1) seems like a good choice," Upon hearing the screams erupting from the door, Speed feels a nearly irresistible need to investigate and rescue whoever was screaming, rather than consider the dangers lying behind the door.

Warp remains standing besides door one. "Called it first friendy, sorry but, if the rest of my team agrees, the group with the most people should attempt to save someone, or it's a trap, in which case we'd still fare better. Besides, I'm quite good at rescuing people when I feel like it." Warp sped up everything around him, he did not want to hear the deliberations, and besides, this might take a while.

"Well then, I say that I, Jack and Aodhan take door number 3...no reason, other than I like that song about 3 being a number of magical importance...also, unless they have a pre-cog, then I imagine that all the doors lead to areas of equal difficulty...then again, if they do have a pre-cog then they knew what groups we'd end up in, and they arranged the rooms accordingly....so my choice is still 3, I'm just saying that the choice is irrelevant."

"You sure you want door number 3?" Jack asks turning to Qayin, "cause I can see what's behind those doors, are you sure you want 3?"

Emma looked at the two male figures she's somehow been paired with. They were all taller than her. Even worse, they both wore such serious expressions. That couldn't be good, either.
She caught other groups' deliberation, and frowned a little at the "door number 3" being taken, though she had no idea what they were talking about, having slept through the Russian man's speech. Emma then heard Jack tell Qayin to not pick the door, making her think of Game theory. Half talking to herself, Emma said in a barely audiable voice, "You should pick another door. If you keep this door, your chances will remain a one-in-four chance, but any other door would have a one-in-three chance. Unless you prefer donkeys over millions of dollars."
When she realised she had said that out loud, she giggled a little.

Mr.Black looks to which door has not been picked by any other group and he and Mark agree for door number two. "I say door number to seeing door number one and three are taken" He says while looking around his eyes momentarily stopping on Emma before continuing to look around. I know what your thinking, so stop thinking that! Mark yells while Mr. Black does as he says and stops that thought.

Deus turns to the pre-cog with an exasperated expression on his face (either that, or the alcohol and heroin has numbed his jaw);

"Well that's put me in a philisophical dilemma now hasn't it? If you know that I pick door number 3, and tell me not to pick it, then I know something particularly nasty is most likely behind that door...then again, how could you know that unless we go into door number 3 anyway? Your future perception would be based off what the others tell you about the other 3 paths they take, and that could be exaggerated grossly, or understated for the sake of macho bullshite..."

"...So in fact, the only way you can know that there is something nasty behind door 3 for certain is if we take that route...and I now have to take Door Number 3 to prove myself right, because I'm far too intoxicated to back down from any kind of intellectual challenge right now."

He then elaborately (or drunkenly) turns to Emma, with a slight stumble mid-swing of the leg.

"And, as funny as that is, I still face the dilemma of there most likely being donkeys behind EVERY door, donkeys with lasers, flamethrowers, and access to tactical nuclear strikes with a press of their hooves...in fact, the only million dollar prize here, was already provided for me on that shitty table over there, and I already feel the effects of that wonder-drug wearing off."

"Also, I have realised that I may have just walked into a trap of reverse-psychology from the pre-cog there, as there may simply be fluffy kittens behind door number 3, but I only pick numero tres unless challenged to not do so...I'm going to need more heroin."

She stared at Deus, with a deer-in-headlights stare, blinking as if in shock.
"What kind of game is this?" she asked, still assuming that numbered doors = gameshow.
Her eyes went around the room to look at the expressions of the others, then she looks back to him. "More importantly, why am I included with a bunch of serious, preterbed men?"
She walked back a few steps and sat in one of the chairs, though remained near enough to her team members to be physically in their group. "And precog? Like precognition? Oh, my..."

Watching Emma with caution, Deus tries to gauge the mental health of the woman;

"...that's uhh...not...there are no actual donkeys with lasers... you do realise this..right? I believe it is a game of employment - or at least one of forced labour."

"If I were to hazard a drawn-out, drug-fueled guess, I would surmise that the survivors of this game will be offered another challenge, in the form of an occupation...as in, one involving lycra and various forms of blows to the face in an effort to stop...something? I'm sure Jasper has a problem that he needs solving, but in order to fill his sadistic overlord quota he has to see his solution sweat and toil to make sure it won't crack under pressure...that made no sense did it?"

"And as for the serious part - I find that this room is hilarious if you stop trying to laugh with them, and settle for laughing at them; after that the room becomes a gallery of unfortunate jokes...if you can get over the sordid atmosphere of course. I've never been a fan of medieval architecture, although I suppose you have to be disturbed as a child to be truly interested in bricks..."

"I'm actually quite looking forward to this, now that it's gotten going, maybe even the most annoying members of our group will recieve a sharp blow to the head and stop engaging in pissing-contests of the mouth...or perhaps the mind-reader will stop eyeing me with distaste."

As the man spoke, Erana seemed to physically shrink inwards, holding the strap of her purse. Her face became red when she began to understand the danger she was in.
She paused, then spoke up, asking, "Then why are we going in the rooms? There has to be a better way out of here. I hate playing games with important things, and this is worse than Russian Roulette. I don't want to play."
Dispite being doubled over with her hair in her face, she could be heard cleary. There was a tone of absolution in her voice. She sat back up with her right hand over her face, and gave a sigh that was quiet, but seemed impossibly long.

"Well, looks like we have no choice Emma we are going to have to play Jasper's games if we want to make it out of here alive or at least without some serious bodily harm" Mr. Black said while he carefully categorized Emma as someone he could possibly trust. You know what I think you like her. Mark said while he smiled inside his own head. Will you just shut up Mr. Black said while he tried to metaphysically gag Mark. No can do as long as you can talk I can talk idiot Mark said while he laughed.

Deus considered his response more carefully this time, wary of the fact that Emma seemed to value her well-being more than the substance abusers and depressed types that otherwise populated the groups.

"I would say that we're going in the rooms because we don't have anywhere else to be, really - not many people here have anything left to lose, if they ever had anything to begin with...except for Aodhan's bike, I believe he does want to go back to that. The fact that you're here would suggest you fit the pattern, but I think Jasper has relied too much on compliance - if you wish to leave then there is little he has to stop you.

Whatever he is using to...'encourage' us, will become much harder to use when he is fighting to keep his nose straight, I would reckon, and the two muscle he keeps would not fare well against all of us...then again, you are here, and as I said, you probably fit the bill - why leave when our lives are empty? If this man has a problem, and we're the solution, then for whatever amount of time he needs us, we have a purpose - I can't speak for you, but I know that for most of us tend to live vicariously through the people who require help, and there isn't really much else for us.

So the door is there, and I imagine that I, or another here, could pull it aside for you, but do you want us to? Or do you, as Jasper said, want to see how deep this thing goes?

Oh, and I'm not nearly as eloquent when sober, so don't expect more than one lecture on life per bottle."

"Lives are empty? What could have possibly happened to vex you so?" she said, with some scorn in her voice. "Wouldn't your life be a bit different if you were not so positive about your heroine use? No one can say if life has any worth or meaning. But do you really mean to find it in another's malitious intent?"
She was standing now, hands on hips. Her expression was that of a mother scolding her child.

Jasper looked at Emma and raised his hand "I'll put in a vote for yes."

He looked over at Mat and once more laced his voice with that uncomfortable warmth "Mat, we want to be freindly right? Tell her yes."

After a moment Mat responded resolutely "If I know one thing, life's done me no favors. Life's kicked me around like its personal punching bag. I don't like it in here," Mat paused deep in thought "But here I got something to live for." he ended on a sincere note.

"You see?" Jasper inquired with a wide grin on his face "One big happy family." He approached a little closer to Emma, maintaining the wide smile. "You'll have to trust me that I know what I'm doing. That I wont sacrafise a valuable asset by throwing her in over her head. You brought up game theory earlier, apply that now. Why would a sacrafise a valuable peice for no reason?" The question stood on the air for a moment.

"Besides" he added casually "If you refuse to be of use you have nothing to barter with and I have no reason to allow you to remain a variable in my well thought-out equation."

Jasper returned to his original position and announced cheerily "So, what will it be?"

Deus, genuinely taken aback, had to make an effort to not look like a slapped child as he tried to defuse the situation;

"If I didn't have the vice, as foul as it is, then I would not be alive today - I...need it, and not for the reasons of a junkie's addictions. So yes, my life would be very different - it would be non-existant, as would the building I occupied become at the time of my passing.

I don't think anyone here can say they have anything real, tangible and worthwhile to go back to, and I in no way said that I was in this for the malice of a stranger - and that includes being scolded by a judgemental woman who seems to be treating me like a child after only a few minutes.

I'm here because if I can help, then I will. I don't know if you've noticed, but not many people in this room are exactly normal, and we're all just trying to do the best with what we've been given, so forgive me for saying that a life without purpose has no meaning - I'm merely talking from within the belly of the beast, the bottom of the barrel, and many other metaphors indicative of the gutter of life."

Deus was about to continue, starting with the Russian, when a twitch of the eye, a cramp in the neck and a thudding in his chest suggested he should stop, and soon.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I may be starting to uhh 'lose it', which is never good - I'll be sitting in the corner, farrr away from everyone, until we're ready to go through. Oh, and yes, despite the fact that I doubt you could stop any of us if we wished to leave, I'm still in for the ride."

Deus crossed the room, faced the wall, and sat with crossed legs, the first bead of sweat brought on by pure frustration rolling down his brow. He had a feeling this was going to be happening a lot from this point on.

Emma sighed at Jasper's logic. "I don't like any of this. I don't really have much of a choice to cooperate with you. This may sound crazy, but if I understand what's going on, couldn't one of you just bust your way through the walls?"
She sighed, looking over her shoulder into space.
She sat there for a moment, then asked, "What is your ability?"

"Who was that question for, all of us or just one of us" Mr. Black asks while he restrains himself from entering her mind and answering his own question.

"I see..." Emma said, looking back at them. She took in their expressions rather than their appearance now, and her first impressions were truely made. Each of these jaded guys had some power that had hindered their life, but they seemed honestly willing to help her, though they claimed to be helping themselves.
"You've prolly already guessed that I have a power, too. I know I do, but I've never really been able to do much with it other than boosting people's confidence. I need to learn how to use it. And for that I need the assistance of someone who is confident in their abilities."

She felt absolutely crazy for doing this, and half expected them to laugh at her or for something to explode or for her to gain the ability to trip on something while remaining stationary.
She said it with a straight face, though.

Speed hops from his position and zooms next to her almost tripping over himself but barely maintaining his balance. "Um...I'm Speed. I know we haven't been introduced or anything but I'm totally willing to help with what you need." he said smiling.

"I volunteer myself but I will only use it to see if I can mind read past those doors" Mr. Black said as he stood. Mr. Black saw speed get to her first and he for half a second considered making his fears come to light. Don't you even dare do that you idiot you know full well if we do that we will most likely die Mark said trying to calm Mr. Black and it worked.

Hearing Mr Black volunteer, he thought for a moment. Seeing what was past those walls was probably more important than being able to move faster temporarily. "On second thought," Speed said while sitting back down, "I think I'm comfortable right here."

Mr. Black was genuinely surprised he walked over towards Emma and reached his hand out to wait for her to shake his.

I think we should get going through the doors if you cant read through them. all this waiting is making me nearvus