Exhausted

[CondorTalon]

"Khh... hah... god... hhh... this is so... fucking..."

Sandra paced around the room, spouting half-phrases and curses at the floor.

"This... just... ughh... this... fuck."

She stopped.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck... GOD... FUCKING..."

She turned, throwing her fist at a car.

"DAMMIT!"

G009 - Sandra Dyer: START

She breathed heavily, her hand hurting like a motherfucker.

She fell to her knees.

"This... this is all kinds of fucked up..." Sandra half-sobbed, half-chuckled.

She turned her head slowly, looking at her duffel bag. Its contents had already been haphazardly pulled out of it, and were strewn about on the floor. Her eyes fell on the pot lid. That was her "weapon".

Her rage not yet abated, Sandra moved forward and kicked the lid as hard as she could...

...which instantly rebounded off the wall and smacked her in the head.

"FUUUUUUCK!" she cried, falling to her knees again and clutching her forehead in pain.

[Deamon]

Kimiko could hear the cursing from where she was sat. She had been studiously ignoring it; instead calming herself by taking inventory of the contents of her bag. Carefully unpacking everything and laying it out. After assessing all the resources available to her she had repacked it. Now as the swearing reached its loudest Kimiko decided to move.

G015 - Kimiko Kao: Start

Slowly and carefully entering the garage, Kimiko scanned the area for the source of the commotion. Whoever it was; they were clearly agitated. The knock-on effect of that meant they could be dangerous. Kimiko was trying extremely hard to keep everything in order and logical in her head. She was playing images of potential scenarios over in her head in an attempt to try and figure out what she would do.

The fact she even had to do such a thing made her angry. She hated anything that imposed upon a persons freedom and the situation she found herself in was the ultimate example of that. The cold metal around her neck reminded her of that. She was collared like a dog and if she didn't do what her masters wanted they would put her down.

But on the other hand...she loved her freedom. Her personal freedom was one of the most important things to her. She already felt backed into a corner by the situation she was in. She wanted the collar off, she wanted to go home, she wanted to live. Could she make that sacrifice though? Abandon her beliefs for a shot at freedom?

A phrase she had heard at the temple once forced its way to the front of her thoughts.

Make your life what you want it to be now. The rest will follow.

It concerned her.

Seeing the other girl Kimiko froze. She knew of Sandra, but not well. Not wanting to startle her Kimiko instead gently knocked on the wall.

Her lack of speech was a serious issue now.

[CondorTalon]

It was when the knocking reached her ears that Sandra realized that she wasn't alone. Of course she hadn't. Of course there had been someone else around the corner, in another room. And of course they were behind her, because just to put a cherry on top of this shit sundae, of course Sandra would be stupid enough to keep back turned toward the entrance.

"Who the f-" she said, whirling around to see Kimiko standing there. Sandra didn't know Kimiko that well.

She knew that she was mute.

"What do you..." she started, before stopping to clear the tears from her face, "What do you want?"

Sandra had unconsciously backed up against the wall at this point. The red mark from where she'd been smacked was very visible on her forehead.

Her instincts screamed at her to run, that she had no idea what Kimiko wanted to do to her at this moment. She was slightly panicking, stuck in this situation. Maybe it was needless panic, but she was currently too paranoid to realize that.

[Deamon]

Her hands were raised in a placating gesture, she didn't mean Sandra any harm. In all honestly the girl already seemed to be hurt. Unfortunately Kimiko had not way to communicate with Sandra beyond basic gestures. The question Sandra asked did give her pause for thought.

What did she want?

Sandra had backed up against the wall. Kimiko herself stayed where she was, she felt so calm yet had no idea why. She didn't know what she wanted. She was unable to talk to Sandra, and the other girl was distressed.

Her eyes passed over the scene in front of her, a pot lid lay in front of Sandra, it must have been her weapon. Kimiko had something equally useless, a megaphone. It was a cruel joke. She was trying not to think about it though. She planned on figuring out a use for it, until then it was carefully stored in her bag. As for what she was going to do Kimiko didn't know. She gave Sandra the most honest answer she could, tapping her colour twice with her left hand and shrugging.

Mind racing with ideas of what to do Kimiko slowly lent against the wall and waited for Sandra's response.

[CondorTalon]

"Right... that's right... of course," Sandra said, sliding down the floor into a seated position, "You couldn't tell me..."

She sighed, then sniffled, the chuckled. It was a pitiful chuckle, empty of any sort of joy. She wiped her nose of the snot that had started dripping from it.

"What... what are we supposed to do? I've never... felt so helpless in my entire life..." Sandra mumbled.

It felt like whatever she did here would just lead to her losing. It was a Catch-22, a damned if you do, damned if you don't. Even if, for some reason, she decided to start killing, what were the chances of her making it to the end? If she died, what would the meaning in all of those deaths be?

But then, even if she didn't, if she died, someone else would go home. Some other broken soul would be free to go home. Then what? Well, she'd be dead. Nothing else would matter to her.

But what of her family? Just imagining the pained faces on her mom and dad, and Eric and Michael, left a terrible feeling in her gut.

It was selfish, but Sandra didn't want to die. Sandra didn't want to leave a broken family behind. But if that meant killing then...

Could she...?

She looked back up at Kimiko. She didn't know what to say.

"I want to..." she started.

She swallowed, interrupting her own words.

"I'm going to find my friends," she finished. She got up, and began the arduous process of reaching for all the stuff strewn around and stuffing them back in her bag.

[Deamon]

Kimiko shrugged and shook her head at Sandra's question. She was in the same boat, not sure what to do or what path to take. She knew there were more paths available to her than she was aware of right now but she could only clearly make out two. Neither of them offered a complete explanation of what to do but they seemed to be the smartest choices. The saying rolled around in Kimiko's head again, she frowned as she considered a possible interpretation of it.

Finding friends seemed like a good idea but for some reason Kimiko didn't want to commit herself to that path of action. Not for a little while longer at least. She wanted time to assess her situation and her options. To figure out what she wanted to do. What she wanted was a plan.

She didn't have the makings of one yet.

Kimiko nodded at Sandra and wobbled her hand then made a wide circle with her index fingers, hoping that Sandra got the idea that she was going to stay and have a look around.

[CondorTalon]

"Yeah," Sandra said, nodding, "Yeah, you do... that."

Sandra had finished packing up her bag again as she said that last sentence. Everything went into the bag, except for the pot lid. If the soreness from her forehead was any indication, she could at least use it as a distraction, or maybe she could use it to disarm someone by throwing it at their wrist.

Or... at the very least, she could use it as a distraction.

"I'm heading out," she said, as if she was leaving her house to go to a friend's place.

And then she left.

((Sandra Dyer continued Rolodex of Hate.))

[Deamon]

So Sandra left. Kimiko had expected it. She was also glad it had happened. Consoling the other girl wasn't something she wanted to do when she was having a stressful enough time figuring out what she wanted to do. As selfish as it sounded she didn't want to add someone else's problems onto that.

Instead Kimiko occupied herself with searching what the map told her was the vehicle depot. To say she didn't find anything useful would have been an understatement. The place had been scrubbed clean of anything that could have been considered remotely useful. There were no tools and nothing inside the vehicles themselves that would be useful. Instead all Kimiko found was dust and weeds, signs of a place long since abandoned. The only activity the place had seen in at least ten years was going to either be the terrorists or her classmates, at least that was her assumption.

Eventually Kimiko found herself back in the office rooting through the filing cabinet. There was nothing, which she had expected; searching the filing cabinet had been a long shot anyway. Then she looked up and saw what had been in front of her face all along.

The office window.

She could use the glass.

Picking up the chair that was at the desk Kimiko raised it and slammed it into the window...which didn't budge. Gritting her teeth Kimiko tried again, and again. Her commitment was rewarded with the sound of glass shattering. In the context she found herself in, it was like music to her ears. Dropping the chair to one side with a dull thud, Kimiko starting rooting around in her bag for her first aid kit, upon finding it she placed it on the desk and cracked it open. She knew exactly what she was looking for, this was why she had been so meticulous in looking through everything she had been given. She took a roll of bandages out and began looking through the shards she had made.

Her requirements for the shards she wanted were simple, they had to have a sharp edge for stabbing or slashing and preferably a wider base to give her something to hold onto. She was lucky enough to find exactly what she wanted. Carefully picking it up she bound the part she was using as her base in layers of the bandages she had been supplied with. Once she was done she had a weapon that was perfect for stabbing. She wasn't proud of the fact she had made it, but she needed something that wasn't the megaphone. There was another smaller piece that she also took and prepared. That one was stuffed in her bag.

As for what was left Kimiko systematically stomped on them until they had broken apart into smaller less usable pieces. She didn't want anyone else using the glass, she couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't use it to attack someone or for their own gain.

Once everything was done Kimiko allowed herself to sit on the chair, which she had needed to set up again, and take a drink of her water. She turned her makeshift dagger over in her hand contemplating what it meant for her.

After a while she left. She was no closer to figuring it out.

((G015 - Kimiko Kao continued in Prepare to Burn))

[Malloon]

Benjamin didn't watch when Mr. Graham was shot. He tried to ignore his limp form, tried to listen to Mr. Danya as he explained their situation to them. But he couldn't. Mr. Danya's voice was nothing to the drip, drip, drip of blood from... what was left of Mr. Graham's head. That, and the ringing the gunshot had left in his ears. He knew he should listen, he knew. Or he would die. So he tried, with tears in his eyes.

[B046: Benjamin Lichter - start]

Ben woke from his slumber and immediately wished he hadn't. He lay on his front, with his head turned to the side. His knees hurt, his head ached, and his insides quivered with nausea. Not moving, he took a deep breath to calm his upset stomach, but it didn't work. He gagged, opened his eyes halfway, and lifted himself off what he realised was upholstery. Seats. Flopping towards the edge of the seats, he retched onto the floor. It wasn't much, just the sandwich he had had for breakfast. A small puddle of sick splashed down and ran under the seats in front of him. He hoped the people in front wouldn't make too much of a fuss, him being sick on the bus like that. Groaning, he pushed himself back onto the seats, and closed his eyes again.

Why had he slept? He never slept on the bus, and certainly not lying face down over two seats. He decided he needed to get up and apologize to the people in the seats in front of him - they were taking him being sick remarkably well. He stretched his legs, meaning to put his left foot down on the floor, but they hit a wall. A wall? Wasn't the aisle supposed to be there? Now he really opened his eyes. The seats, they were old, covered in dust and grime. They weren't the seats of the bus, those had been clean - well, relatively, but Ben hadn't minded. Realizing he wasn't on the bus anymore, he sat bolt upright, his feet circling from behind over the gap and stopping to rest in front of him. He realised his mistake too late, as his headache increased and his nausea threatened to make him lose another meal. "Muuuuhhhhhhhhhhgggrrrr....", he moaned, grabbing his shins and rocking back and forth, trying to lessen the pain. After doing that for a minute or two he was reminded of the pain his knees were in after grabbing one. "Son of a... cow", he ejaculated, through gritted teeth. He shouldn't swear, he thought. He sometimes caught himself doing it, repeating language he heard from his peers, but he knew he shouldn't. Ben had a clear idea of good and bad, and swearing fell clearly into the "bad" box. So why was it what he wanted to do more than anything at this point in time?

Why did his knees hurt? Why, why did they have to hurt? Why now? He was going to have a heck of a time following his classmates during the trip... no, there was no trip anymore. He wasn't on the bus. None of his classmates were around. An idea popped into his head, a memory, a nightmare. Something involving Mr. Graham, yes, and his classmates, and something called Survival of the... of the...

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck!". Survival of the Fittest! He remembered Mr. Graham being shot. He remembered Danya. He remembered the sleeping gas that was responsible for his aching head and stomach. He remembered that he was supposed to kill his classmates. He remembered the collars - his hand flew to his neck; yes, there it was. He remembered his sister. His sister, his mother, his grandfather. Who he might never see again.

His hand went to his back pocket, searching for his wallet. It wasn't there. Then he looked at his surroundings for the first time in detail, looking where it might have fallen out. He was, as far as he could tell by the little sunlight, in the back of a car. Next to him, on the floor, and next to the puddle of vomit, was a black duffel bag. His wallet wasn't on the seats, so he picked up the bag. He vaguely noticed the bag had a number on it, B046, as he started rooting through it. Dumped the contents on the seat in front of him - a seat which would have been next to him, had he not been sitting with his back to the window - he soon found his wallet. Ignoring the rest of the contents, he flipped it open. There were his seven dollars worth of cash, there was the packet of ketchup from the restaurant he'd gone to last week, and there was what he'd been looking for. A photo, of him and his mother and sister. He started to cry. Silently, with big teardrops that ran down his face and onto his t-shirt and arms. No! He shouldn't cry. He'd make it out of this alive, god... darn it! He was going to see them again!

But first, that meant getting out of the car. He collected his things, taking a moment to dry his eyes with a tissue from a packet he'd also had on him during the kidnapping. He looked for the weapon he'd been assigned before quickly realizing, with a sinking heart, that it was an etch-a-sketch. Stuffing it - and the rest - into the bag with more than a little bit of anger, he turned around to look out of the car. What he saw almost made him laugh. The people who had put him there had a sick sense of humor, if that hadn't been clear before. He was in a car, which in turn was on what he assumed was a mechanical car lift, 10 feet up in the air. And he really didn't fancy jumping.

Looking around the building the car was in, he guessed it was a vehicle depot. He strained to see if there were any other people around, but he couldn't see anybody. Then he heard a thump. His head whipped around to look at the window of some sort of office high above. He ducked down in the seats, only daring to look at the window while hiding himself. "Thump, thump, crash!", went the window, as somebody hit it with a chair. Ben couldn't see who was doing it, but he didn't dare look too long or hard, in case they saw him. And, since the person was clearly violent, he really didn't want to be noticed by them. He hid in the car and waited until he saw them coming down the flight of stairs that must have lead to the office above. He saw it was a girl - the mute! Kim... something. She was holding a shard of glass wrapped in bandages, a makeshift dagger. Not a bad idea, Ben thought, if you had a joke weapon assigned to you, thinking of his own "weapon". But he was very surprised at how fast she had come up with it, a weapon as violent as that, and decided against revealing himself. He didn't want to take the risk.

When she had left, Ben carefully opened the car door. First, he dropped the duffel bag onto the floor down bellow, then he carefully climbed over to the support pillar nearest to him, to one on the back left. As he climbed he thanked God he wasn't afraid of heights, and then he slid down the pillar. Picking up his duffel bag, he went to see if there were any glass shards left that he might be able to use like the mute girl.

But no, she had stomped them all into tiny, useless pieces. Again, her resourcefulness scared Ben - making sure she had a weapon while others didn't was a cunning move, he thought. He made a mental note that, if he ever saw the scary mute girl again, he'd run like heck. Aw no, he'd run like hell.

And with that, he started for the exit himself.

(B046: Benjamin Lichter continues in Prince of Nothing)