"I won't take it the wrong way." Santiago said, walking slowly behind Greg. "I didn't know there was anyway you could take a statement other than as a bit of air your exhaled a certain way to make a certain sound that your brain recognizes as a certain message. How interesting. I'm learning stuff all the time. I guess the fortune cookie was right. Ha! That's two pounds that Britash man owes me! Oh wait." A shadow fell over Santiago's face. "He's back over..." He looked around. "Whichever way home is." He twirled his finger in a circle just to make sure he got the general direction.

He stopped talking when Greg entered the room and peaked around the man's shoulders. "I take some exception to that young(er) man." He said pointing at the contents inside without getting any closer. "The place isn't destroyed. There are still walls without holes around it, a floor beneath it, and if you look straight up your eyes won't sear in their sockets because of the lack of sunlight pouring in because of the roof still being a roof instead of a pile of... A pile of... a heap of was-roof!" He nodded and put his hands on his hips, a trait he'd gotten from his mother who did it every time she was right. "Er... Maybe it isn't my room" He said scratching his nose. "Check the closet for jeans. The room I showed up in had lots of jeans so I knew it wasn't mine as I never wear the bloody things."

I can hear the blood pumping in my ears as the first one walks in. Tall, must be twice my size and maybe my weight, white hair. Looks like a cartoon just like everything else. The worst part is he's talking to someone. This is gonna be a problem. I'm gonna get my shit pushed in. I wouldn't get into a fight like this even if I was... myself. At least not without a weapon, but I really don't have a choice here. It was either rush him, do as much damage as I can, and hope I can take the other guy or risk going down here. My body tenses up and my head leans toward him a little. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, but I'm going to try a sweep takedown from behind. Chokes are out, I'm not gonna get one off with someone behind him, behind me. Sweep it is. This is it. Here goes nothing.

I breath out in a sharp huff as I push myself off the wall. I must've moved pretty quick because by the time I got to him he hadn't turned around yet, but it felt like it took a few seconds to reach him even if it was less than half of one. I took three steps, then a stutter step. Even up my right foot. I swam my right hand up toward his face to try to catch him in the throat, anything that I could grab onto and use to inflict some pain, but my short reach didn't help me and I grabbed him by the collar instead. My left hand shot an open palm into his stomach as I maneuvered my left foot as far back as I could manage between the gap in his legs. My hips swung into him from behind as I dropped my weight, pushing on his torso with my left hand and tugging on his collar with my right. Pain shot through my still-sore wrist and I felt the weakness in it but I couldn't stop now. My tiny frame worked in my favor this time around. I could drop my weight a lot farther to the ground, and he began to roll over my hip. I shouted at some point in the throw, a desperate war cry, but I don't remember doing it.

But I fucked something up.

It all happened in less than a second, but it felt like it took forever, and then I realized where I screwed myself down the line. From the very beginning. I threw the wrong guy. I jacked up the throat grab. The move took too long and I was too small and weak to do it right. He didn't hit the ground, he just stumbled backward over me as he tripped over my tiny body. The guy with the silver lockes ran himself backward into the arms of a punk behind him, a little shorter, black hair with red highlights. Now I was cornered. I attempt to correct myself by following with a push kick that would've knocked the two of them down if I was my larger self, but pushed me back as I rebounded off of the guy's torso. But they were in the doorway. Reacting quickly, desperately, and pretty damn retarded when I realized midway through doing it that I wouldn't be able to keep them out, I attempt to force the door close on them. Maybe I was thinking I could slam it in their faces and lock it, giving me enough time to jump out the window or at least grab some kind of weapon. Maybe I thought that I could catch an arm or a leg in the door and break it by torquing it against the door frame. Either way, it doesn't work. They caught the door, and I put my full weight against it in a pathetic and futile attempt to close it as I grunted against the strain, wrist searing with agony.

Everything that happened, felt like a flash. Before he had time to realize, he was being assulted by a small girl. "What the-" his words being stopped mid way as the girl kicked him into Santiago after the fail attempt to flip him. He almost didn't have time to think about what was going on, then the thought hit him while everything was happening. "Is that the girl that screamed? Does she think we're trying to kill her?" he wondered in a rush, noticing that she was trying to slam the door shut.

His reflexes kicked in, as he ran towards the door, holding it to keep it opened. "Wait, hold on a second! We're not trying to hurt you!" he said knowing that, she probably wouldn't believe that. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but we're the same as you! we're not from this world either! Just calm down, so we can find out how to handle this!" he yelled, trying to get his message across to the hostile girl, knowing that he wasn't doing a good job, with his words, but at least he tried. He looked back to Santiago for help with the situation.

Santiago nodded. "Could be. Could be." He tilted his head to the side as he watched things unfold. He would've gotten involved but everything looked like it was progressing smoothly from one panel to another. "We did kind of enter her room without permission and a lady should never just let something like that happen." He nodded again. "Most ladies don't attack though. They tend to point a finger at you, then the door, and expect that to be enough to end things." The words came out of him in a rush because there wasn't enough time to say the words in the long drawn out way that would've added some levity to the scene. He did manage to catch Greg while he tumbled out of the room though so that was a win.

"O that's nice." Santiago said, walking up to help Greg push the door open. "I say hi and ask if your from a different world and you act like I was the guy who used to hang around the park you played at as a kid with two dogs and a pair of binoculars, but this girl throws you out the door and tries to slam it in your face and your just blubbering the situation!" He leaned his body against the door and pushed. "See, it's things like that that make me like dogs so much, at least with dogs you can understand their reasons for doing things." He turned his attention and called to the door at the other side. "Will you cut it out, we're not trying to do anything to you. Do we come off as a pair that would do things like that? I think not. Those kind of pairs, for all their faults are at least usually on the same page!"

Warning bells are going off in my brain as the adrenaline pours into it like a fountain. For one, I'd lost the door. They were getting in no matter how hard I pushed. I already have my full weight against and I'm barely able to hold it kind-of shut. For two, this was upsetting. It doesn't do my sanity any favors to have someone shout at me that they're from another world just like I am. Like they already know. Because I would know, and this is a hallucination or a dream of some kind. Of course my subconscious knows what I know. They bicker like a married couple, though. I'm not sure if that's part of my subconscious that represents the pettiness I had to go through in boot camp or the politics at work or... what. I'm thinking about this too much. Fuck man, I'd give both of my legs for a pistol right now.

As I struggle and strain against the losing battle that was keeping the door closed, I pick the best option I have available to me. I let go of the door and take an angle of movement backwards. Best case scenario one or both of them stumbles and falls in and I get an advantage. Worst case scenario I don't let them have the advantage of grabbing me through the door. That didn't look like it was going to happen, though. As I let go of the door the two caught themselves rather well. One of them stumbled a bit and I twitched on my feet, but I didn't go for it because he was a little too close to the other one. I was backed into a corner now. I don't see any kind of winning move for me. Next limb I get ahold of, I'm breaking it. Leg, arm. Neck. I'm going to do some damage next time.

I bare me teeth as I remain crouched in a fighting stance, right arm back and under my chin ready to protect my face, left arm forward, hand open, prepared to catch or block a strike or go for a grab. My eyes stare intensely past the both of them, keeping their movements in my periphery so I can react to both of them.
"Leave. NOW," I growl at them, sounding a lot less intimidating than I'd like with my freakin' Minnie Mouse voice. I give it a short moment before adding on to my statement. "You wanna talk you talk through the door. I don't wanna fight you but I WILL hurt you if you don't back the fuck up!"
I'm already thinking of options to carry out my threat. Small joint manipulations, breaking fingers, tweaked elbows. If I get put into a grapple I'm biting a chunk out of someone's arm, I swear to fucking Christ. If I had to start, I'd go for that trip throw and try to break an ankle while I was at it. I really hoped it didn't get to that point. I've never been in a real fight with more than one person at once, and they had a huge size and weight advantage. Truth be told, if I didn't fight absolutely filthy they could probably kill me.

Let's hope that I'm crazy and that they're orderlies. Please, PLEASE be orderlies! Orderlies probably weren't going to fucking break my face open.

Mitsukuni began regretting the whole situation. Maybe it was slight anger for being attacked like that, but he understood her, and that's, when he decided that maybe, he should back down. While he was holding the door, to keep it from closing, he thought to himself. "What the hell am I doing? Is this what I'd do in a situation like this. I'm not really helping right now, by forcing her to listen," he thought, while easing up on the door to let it close, but before he could, the girl let go of the door, causing him to stumble a bit, before catching his footing. "Son of a-". He was pretty good at not completely falling, when tripped, or other situations, involving falling down. After catching his footing, he watched the girl, get into a defensive stance, protecting herself, from what she thought was a threat, and because of his actions so far, made him realize that, he couldn't blame her for it.

"Leave. NOW. You wanna talk you talk through the door. I don't wanna fight you but I WILL hurt you if you don't back the fuck up," she growled, obviously pissed off. "Do girls usually talk like that?" Mitsukuni thought, as he began scratching his head, sighing from everything that's happened so far. "Well I fucked up, but I don't blame you for being mad with me, but I am telling the truth," he responded, turning towards the door, then looking back at the girl. He began analyzing her a little. "For such a small frame, she packs one hell of a punch, or better yet, a kick" he thought, almost laughing, but smirking. "Yeah yeah, I'm going," he said walking towards the door. He didn't want trouble, but he didn't want to leave her confused either, even though he was still a bit confuse himself as to why, he was here, but at lease he could tell the girl what he knew so far.

"You don't look like you're in the mood to talk, but I understand that you are confused, scared, and can't trust anyone. Hell, I still can't trust this guy at the moment, but I guess I'm just stupid for accepting him so far," he said pointing at Santiago, then looking at him. "No offense of course," he continued, turning back to the girl. "I'll give you time to breathe, but I do need to talk to you," he said rubbing his chest a little. "Nice kick, by the way."

"The girl seems pretty mad" Santiago noted, out loud like the master of ceremony at a painfully obvious convention. "Maybe its the time of day. Normally I"m not one for having company first thing in the morning." He pushed further on the door, stopping his advance only when Greg did. He opened his mouth to complain about doing all the work, but the guy opened his mouth too, and nothing ever got done when people trying to talk over each other; unless your goal was to get someone frustrated because nothing was getting done, which wasn't his goal at the moment. So he listened and tried not to talk, but it was hard, really hard, pulling a nail out of your foot while jumping around the other one hard.

"Okay. Fine. We'll do it that we." He mumbled. "God, I hope this isn't your way of going about getting things done, because then nothing is ever going to get done, and we're going to be here for a long time. I think" He said, stepping back and scratching the tip of his nose. "Not sure to be honest. I mean, not really sure how our own world works so can't imagine what the rules are for this little corner of reality are." He looked around and put his hands on his hips so he could stretch. His back made a series of popping sounds like kid with big feet jumping on a square of bubble wrap. "But I'm assuming(thinking(guessing(groping randomly in the dark for some thing that could resemble a hope for return))) if we fix whatever it is we're brought her for we'll get sent home, at least that's how it works in a lot of the anime I've seen."

He looked from Greg to the girl and back again. "Oh yeah!" He said, and grab the door by the handle. "Almost forgot." Gently as if the door frame was a land mine whose maker got the instructions mixed up, he closed the door and took a step back so he was standing next to Gret. "Okay. We're talking through the door just like you wanted." Santiago frowned and turned to Greg. "Why did we want to talk to her so badly again?"

I don't let my guard down until the door is shut completely, and not even then. I keep myself braced with one foot back just in case, only taking my hands away from my face to work the lock on the door. It rattles in its frame as I test it. Looks like it'll hold. Still, it'd suck pretty damn hard to get a flying door to the face. I keep myself pressed to the other end of the door where it can't hit me and lean my weight on the wall. I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but I'm unsure if I should or not. All I've really learned is that whoever these two were, they were agreeing with me. Orderlies maybe would. My subconscious definitely would. If I was dead... who knows? It's a lot to take in, and my paranoid mind isn't doing me any favors by trying to come up with some kind of ethereal moonspeak solution. The guy in white, a lighter side, more understanding, proactive, willing to talk things out. Guy in black, darker side, devil-may-care, kind of along for the ride. Was this some kind of duality?

Yup. Totally snapped, yessiree.

I feel my heart sink into my chest, a lump form in my throat. The worst has happened. I've completely lost my fucking mind. I took a one way trip down the psycho path. I knew that work was tough, but I'd been slipping slowly until now. I'd forget things, follow strange paths of logic sometimes, find weird segways. Sometimes I'd see movement in the corner of my eye but I knew it wasn't there, sometimes I'd hear a noise I know didn't exist in anyone's mind but my own. I was aware of it and in control, it was only annoying until know. And now I'm fucked. Shit, these could be some people I know come to check up on me and I'm going bonkers on them. I want to sink into the wall, to fall back asleep, to wake up from this twisted psychosis and go back to what was familiar. At least I knew that it existed. This is too much. I don't want to be here anymore. But this was some kind of familiar. My wrist still hurts, and I wince as I flex it. I feel the twinge. This is real. I feel pain, this is real to me. I'm still in the world somewhere. That means that these two exist. I don't trust them and I'm not sure if I should or not. They could be harmless, probably were. They could be real people trying to help me. Or they could be PMO trying to take me away. THAT wasn't gonna fucking happen, I'd make sure of that. My life isn't going to be ruined just because I snapped after work.

The guy in white, he tells me that this is another world. I don't even know if that's what he's saying or that's what I'm hearing. Either way I don't like it, it adds to the madness. I don't need this much confusion, this can't be real. The guy in black is accommodating and has a strange way of speaking, kind of rambling. I don't know if he's trying to placate me or not, but it sounds about right. Signs point to these two being people I know trying to talk me down from the insanity ledge. I try to compose myself but it just isn't happening. Frantically, I think of a way to respond. Something normal that might explain my freakout. It won't be a surprise, of course. I'm kind of known for being a bit of a freak with a screw loose.
"...I'm sorry about that," I lament, "I was having a nightmare and I didn't know what was going on when you walked in. I'm still kind of freaking out right now, just give me minute. I'm starting to hyperventilate, ha."
It wasn't a lie. Technically not a lie. I was starting to have a panic attack and I did have some kind of nightmare before... this shit happened. My breathing is shallow and I can't take a full breath, more like heaving breaths as if I'd been bawling my eyes out. And while I try not to pass out, I try to think of normal things to say. Maybe I can figure this shit out. The rooms in the bricks automatically lock, so they have to have a room key. So someone was either worried and got the CDO or it's Gunny inspecting rooms. My money isn't on Gunny because he would've taken me to the deck and probably would've kicked the door in after that stunt I pulled.

"I'm really sorry again," I repeat, adding rasp to my voice to make it sound more familiar to me. I don't like sounding how I do, it's weird. Weird and uncomfortable and unsettling.
"...could you call Medical for me? I don't think I'm going to be okay." I concede. I'm fucked up. If I hyperventilate and pass out it wouldn't be good, and it'll let me know who's out there. The duty would call more people and it'd be a rank circus before an ambulance came. My friends would get me a ride to Medical and make sure I don't pass out on the way. I needed it anyway. This wasn't healthy. I give. I'm crazy, I can't hide it. Better to look more sane and get help than to gamble on a lost cause. Shakily, I manage to reach over and fumble with the lock again, a slow click releasing the inner latch.

After the door closed, Mitsukuni heard a clicking come after, which probably meant that, the girl locked it behind them. "Why did we want to talk to her so badly again?" asked Santiago. "Because we have to stick together, or at least that's how I feel anyway," Mitsukuni answered, wondering if he should even bother, after this little run in. "I at least have to fill her in on what I know," he said, wondering how much Santiago knew himself.

He crossed his arms, waiting for what would happen next. It was obvious that she wasn't taking this well. It wasn't like, he didn't feel the same way. He ended up in a strange world and didn't know what was going on. How did this happen? How did he end up this way? Why did this have to happen to him? Will he ever get return? He's arms began tightening, thinking about it, and also waiting for the girl's response. He heard, strange breathing, coming from the other side of the door. He was about to ask, if everything was alright, until he heard her speak. "...I'm sorry about that," she said, her voice sounding like a sob. "I was having a nightmare and I didn't know what was going on when you walked in. I'm still kind of freaking out right now, just give me minute. I'm starting to hyperventilate, ha."

"Are you o-, wait did you say you're hyperventilating?" he asked, thinking he heard her wrong, but the fast pace breathing, told him he didn't mishear. "That sounds bad, she's about to have a panic attack!? She also locked the door, so unless she unlocks it, he might have to kick it down, but that might make things worst. He had to calm her down somehow, but he didn't know how. He had to think fast!

"I'm really sorry again," she said again. "There's nothing to be sorry about, I understand, just calm down ok," he pleaded, not really knowing what to do for the person in this type of situation, but he had to try something. The uneasy shaking in his hands began again. "Fuck!!!" he yelled, clasping his hands together, in attempt to calm himself. "Fuck my life. Not only am I in a different world, but now I have to calm down a person about to go insane. Fuck my life twice!"

He felt like a helpless bitch, and this wasn't helping. He didn't want to face Santiago, looking this way he did. He hated showing weakness, more than anything, but this whole situation happened so fast, it caught him off guard. "...could you call Medical for me? I don't think I'm going to be okay." she asked, puzzling him a little. "Medical...Does she mean a hospital? Is she in the Military or something?" he wondered, hearing her breathing quickening in pace, then hearing a click. Did she just unlock the door? He turned to Santiago, hoping he had a solution. "Help," he responded.

"Hmmm." Santiago said. He looked at the door, imagining a small woman on her hands and knees gasping for air as the walls moved in around her. Then he looked at Greg. Greg didn't look good. Greg could've been better. Greg was just about at that stage in life when someone loves has had enough so halls you to your feet and sleeps you until someone stops panicking. "I'm not getting paid enough for this" Santiago sighed, and shook his head. "Well, okay then. There's just one thing to do." Actually there were many things to do, but he settled on a course so there was only one thing that was going to be done and that was kind of the same, or at least close enough to Government work(which was ironically better than what you'd see in the private sector.)

"Okay you two." He motioned at Greg and then the girl on the other side. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He turned to leave, but realized the dangers that his new acquaintances could face with his absence, even if it turned out to be as short of an absence as he was planning. He stepped a little closer to Greg, and lowered himself so he could grab onto the man and slowly, gently, almost kindly(if actions could be called kindly even when they end with a light thump against a wall) he moved him so he was leaning against the wall. "There we go. This way nobody will trip on you." He nodded again and hurried away before something else could detain him for longer.

There was a thump-thump-thump sound as Santiago rand down the hall, turned a corner, and then did that again through several more halls and corners. Then there was a "Hey! What are you doing!? Give that back!" From some random college girl who watched, almost dumbfounded as a strange man with a paper bag over his head grabbed her super big gulp of soda and took off running. A few other people saw him go by but nobody had the sense of mind to try and stop him. Eventually he made it back to Greg and the door which he was starting to think of as the girl.

"Sorry it took so long." He popped off the top and took a quick swig of the carbonated beverage. "Yuck." He spit it out. "Diet." Then he through about half of the soda into Greg's face, hoping the sudden change in temperature would snap him back to reality. "Okay there's one." He turned the door, and gave it a quick knock. "Hey there's some soda here if you want some. That always helps me when the world starts forgetting what personal spaces is and closes in from every direction."

I'm holding my hands over my eyes as I hyperventilate and panic. It makes the world seem smaller. Safer. Like I'm not going completely fucking bonkers right now and about to get checked into a psych ward and have my life ruined and no job options when I get out so no way to support my family with a stigma to carry for the rest of my life. I kept my eyes closed to avoid seeming my hands and all the colors they were. Not so much colors, but cell shading. Just like a Japanese anime show. It made me want to cry, but it was impossible through the shear sense of mind-numbing anxiety and fear. This was it. My life is over. I've lost my marbles and they ain't coming back, not after this. I lose control of myself and start coughing through my harried breaths as it becomes harder to reign myself in.

I can hear the footsteps pounding in the hallway, and it makes me more uncomfortable. I never liked the sound of frantic activity. It makes me nervous. It usually means that shit's about to happen and I'll get dragged into it. This time it's the really sour kind of shit that I don't even want to be near, let alone involved with. The steps stop right outside my door, where the other two guys converse for a little bit. Aaaaaaand here it is. They're gonna take me away now. Goodbye future, hello white walls and 24/7 supervision. One of them knocks on the door and opens it slightly... but he doesn't come in. He offers me a soda instead. Of all the ways to deal with this sort of situation, that might've been one of the last ones I would expect. I take the soft drink because why the fuck not, and focus on getting my breath long enough to take a swig and not choke on the damn thing. The cold sensation is familiar, and so is the taste. That slight chill of a drink that's not-quite room temperature, but certainly isn't ice cold anymore. The flatness of having been sitting around for a while. A syrupy and disgusting taste like cough medicine that hung around in your mouth for a while. Diet... something. Maybe Coke. Or rootbeer. Do they even make diet rootbeer? If they do, I'd rather drink rubber glue. I start to chug the whole thing anyway. My mouth gets dry when I sleep, and it was soothing on the throat. Especially after my freakout session.

"*cough cough* Ha- *hack* ha, ahaha. Haha... ah," I chuckle. The absurdity of the situation was pretty hilarious. Hey, this guy's going absolutely apeshit in his room, let's get him a fucking soda! It's funny as hell in a cosmic sort of way. Probably doesn't help me look any more sane than I'm not, though. I laugh a little more and crush the cup in my hand, throwing it among the clutter of my destroyed room. Carefully, I stand up and lock the door again. I'm shaky from my panic attack, but I can still function alright so I lock the door again. Time to face the music, might as well get going. The soda made me aware of my other needs. I used to be thirsty, now I was kinda hungry, and if I didn't get a cigarette in the next 10 minutes I was going to slit someone's throat. Wasn't anything I could do at this point but start moving. I lifted my nightdress over my head and callously tossed it with the other clothes on the floor, stepping into my tracksuit. In all honesty it was probably my Marine Corps one, but I couldn't give a fuck if I tried at this moment. Sorting through the sandals and pairs of penny loafers, I found a pair of pink tennis shoes. Decent quality, unlike the ones I have that are beat up with holes in them. No socks. Some things never change. Eventually I find a few pairs, none of them good. Dainty ankle socks with some fringe, stockings, and some kind of rainbow patterned ones. I pick the rainbow ones for comfort, slip my shoes on, and head back to the door.

I'm insane, and I'm worried about what socks I wear. This is my life now. My wrist throbbed slightly, making me aware that it was still there and still twinged at me angrily. I'd have to have it looked it, I really hope that I just twisted. A broken wrist is one more thing on my list of shit that I don't want to have to deal with. The two guys at the door are at the top. The cell-shaded craziness is a close second. Casually, I open the door and jam my hands in the pockets of my jacket. My face reflects exactly what I expect, and if they eyes were windows to the soul then anyone could see that mine is in definite need of some Gorilla Glue because it was just fucking shattered. Blank-faced, thousand-yard stare, I look past the two guys who I happened to assault earlier opposed to looking at them. I didn't want to see their cartoon faces right now. Or any cartoon face. Or any cartoon. I wanna go back to fucking bed and wait for the crazy to wear off.
"...Do either of you have a cigarette I can steal...? I croak emptily. After this, I fucking need one.

"This is the place," Makoto announced, pointing to an old apartment building. The building looked old, but seemed to have had some maintenance done to it, but still looked like an old building. "Do they really live in this dump of a place?" said Jin, hands behind his head, observing the surroundings. "Looks haunted". Jin turned to Makoto waiting for what she wanted to do next. She didn't move an inch. Was she scared to go in?

Jin sighed, then began walking ahead, still with his hands behind his head, relaxed. When he reached the door, he noticed the others were following him, with worried expressions on there faces. He turned to them, giving them a grin. "Not scared are yea?" he asked, looking at Makoto. Makoto avoided eye contact, with a displeased look. "Hmm! Don't get cocky, just because I let you go first. I'll give you the honor of opening the door for me," she replied, with her nose held high, like she was a noble, which made the smile on Jin's faces widen enough to show teeth. Jin proceeded, to opening the door, holding it open, while clearing the way. "After you Lady Makoto," Jin announced, with a guiding hand, offering her to go first. With her nose still held high, Makoto stayed in place, like a statue. "Hmm! A noble such as I, will give you a honor of going first.

Jin's smile grew even bigger. "I knew you were scared," laughed Jin. "Shut up and just go!" yelled Makoto, embarrassed, but not admitting to her fear. "Anyway, we don't have much time right?" asked Jin, feeling like they should hurry. "Yeah let's get this over with," answered Makoto, while Nana nodded in agreement.

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Mitsukuni was speechless. He began asking the question "did he just do that?". He didn't know whether or not to be furious or relieved, but he guess, he understood the reason behind it...maybe. Now he was wet and sticky with soda. Even though everything looked different, the feeling of everything felt the same. "Guess I'll have to wash myself off, hell might as well take a shower while I'm at it," he thought, wiping his face free of dripping soda. He decided not to get anger at the guy for it, no matter how strange the method, it helped if not a little.

He noticed that the girl finally left the room. She didn't make eye contact, but he could tell that she had calmed down a little. He didn't know, how Santiago did it, was it the soda? He didn't see what happened, because he was too busy wiping his face off. "...Do either of you have a cigarette I can steal...? she asked, her voice sounding tired. He couldn't blame her. "I'm sorry, I don't smoke," he answered, then looked at Santiago, with narrowed eyes. "Looks like you can handle this, I can't stand this sticky feeling, so I'm going to wash up. For now fill her in with what you know, and I'll be back," he said walking away to look for the shower room, wherever it was.

The girl came out of her room wanting a fag, and the guy, he didn't like being sticky. This was something Santiago was pretty sure of because Greg told him so and he couldn't see any reason why the man would lie. No, that's not exactly true. Sure, he could think of plenty of reasons why he'd like, the first coming mind being a sticky fetish of some sort, but that and none of the other possibilities rang with any truth to them; they gonged with the silent pulse that rapidly saturates a home filled with hyper children suddenly going quiet. He didn't say anything about these things and instead snapped a crips, albeit rubbery, salute as the man walked away. "Yes sir, I'll do my best. Shouldn't take long. I mean, I know a lot, but the total information I have relevant to the situation at hand couldn't fill a pixies's-- And he's gone. Never mind about that. I'm sure the line will have a chance to wave its little flag of triumph."

He turned his attention back to the girl and grinned. There wasn't any joy in the expression, or anger, or angst, or fear. It was just a slight curving of the lip so the corner on the right was just a bit closer to the eye on the right than on the left. "Well then, let's get started, I guess." He rubbed his hands together. "What do I know? What do I know? Well, I guess it all comes down to this, really. We're, and by which I only mean myself with any level of certainty, not home. I mean, this is possibly someone's home, but its not our's(or again mine.) The place is too bright, the feeling is too unnerving, and I'm far too good looking for us to be in anything but somewhere seriously messed up." He thought for a moment. "Oh! Also there was a letter I got, and a woman who needed help but that could've just been a dream. Can't really prove anything about the woman, but I've got the note back in my room."

He looked at the young lady's room. "I hate to be forward but maybe we should go in? My note said not to draw attention, and technically I'm responsible for theft and you look like someone who just witnessed a mass murder of bunnies and baby penguins at the hands of one mean grizzly, which is going to draw stares, I'll tell you what. Plus, I don't have any smokes on me, because I've never smoked, but always wanted to because that's like the one habit you can have that pretty much guarantees you've got something to do with your hands which I like, and I get the feeling that whoever put us here knows a thing or two about us, and maybe... JUST maybe-they... she left you some fags in your room. "

I stare forward blankly in response, magenta eyes hollow with existential woe. Burning tears slowly begin to well up in their ducts and I can feel my stomach doing flips as my throat tightens with a familiar lump of sadness. My mouth twists into a sorrowful, friendly grin as it always did when I was always about to start with the waterworks, something I picked up to get people to stop asking me if I was alright if I could manage to dry my eyes before talking to anyone.

This was it. This was my life now. They're gonna haul me off to the Funny Farm. No $70k job for me when I get out, no Montgomery GI Bill, everyone's going to have to take care of me and my crazy ass instead of the other way around. I'm insane, I have no future anymore. I knew that this would happen one day, but I didn't think it would come so soon. Maybe it was the stress of trying to find a new job combined with the abuse and nonchalance of my shop...? I don't know. It doesn't matter anymore, nothing does. The reality rug has been pulled out from underneath me and there wasn't any going back. This time it isn't even cosmically funny, like how I was laughing before. It's just empty.

I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to move some of it over my eyes. I'm feeling agoraphobic. If I was wearing I hoodie I would've pulled it far up over my head, but my messy hair might just have to do.
"...yeah, sure," I croak with a sniffle, not meeting the anime protagonist's gaze as I move to shuffle back into the room. I don't like the way he's talking, or rather, I don't like what he's saying. He was pretty funny, but he was talking about my dream. Which probably meant I was projecting my consciousness onto the world around me. He also sweetly convinced me to turn around, go back into my room, and talk things out. Like speaking to a crazy person. Which means that this is the real world, I just can't interpret it anymore. My hands are tied and I hate it. I can't take to this new hallucination because the normal people will stop me, and I can't be normal because I'm fucking bonkers. I'm not even a functional human being anymore.

The room is as disorganized as it was just a moment ago, what a good first impression I've made. The clothes and glass all over the floor probably don't give me any pity points to proving myself sane. And the posters. I don't own any posters. I don't even know how to react. The weight of everything hits me and my knees give out underneath me. I brace myself on the desk for support with my bad wrist, causing me to twist a little. I was frustrated, I was pissed off, I was scared. I wanted to lash out but knew that it wouldn't do any kind of good in the end and especially now. It left me shaking and clenching my fists, hurt searing up the one of them. I knew I should say something to the... I don't even know who was in my room. It was a guy. Probably. But I knew he wasn't what I saw him as. I wasn't what I say me as. But I felt like I should say something anyway.
"...I know it's a little fucked up. I was trying to... find my track suit, and I kind of broke something," I state awkwardly. My voice is quivering as hard as I am while I try to hold it together. In futility and as an attempt to keep myself occupied and break the awkwardness a little, I begin to act. I glance over the desk as was advised to me. No cigarettes. Big surprise. Even if I was sane I might've run out, I hadn't had time to run to the store yet. But I saw something else more important. It was a manila folder with my name emblazoned across it in bold type.

The hopelessness sloughing off in a heap, I snatch up the document as if it were a C-note on the street. I open it, turning to the room and leaning my hips against the desk. The folder has inset pockets with different things that catch my eye. ID cards, a passport, a debit(credit?) card, among others. Everything within the folder was interesting, but most interesting of all was the paper. Single spaced in Courier New font. NAVMAC format with an eagle, globe, and anchor watermark. The date was my own, and the originating "From" was blank. So were the dates to an extent, listing only the month, not the day and time of publication. The subject read "YOU ARE NOT INSANE". My eyes widen and I read on.

Good morning Corporal T.,

I am writing this message to inform you that you are not insane. Everything you see in this world is as everyone sees it and no different. They see you as a purple-haired schoolgirl named Sayuri Mazawa, a 17-year old high school student and as long as you are here in this form this is who you must identify. You will be placing yourself into immediate danger should you not comply. The world you are in is not your own, it is different, and you will receive further instruction at a later date concerning your purpose here but for the moment this is all that we can let you know.

Your role as a high school student will require you to attend school, everything has been worked out ahead of time. You will find in this folder:

- One (1) Student Identification Card
- One (1) Driver's License, Minor's
- One (1) International Passport
- One (1) Class Schedule
- One (1) Student's Guidebook
- One (1) North Pacific Banking Card, Debit

All immediately important documentation can be found in this folder, items such as school supplies and less important items may be found on the top shelf in the closet. We have opened a checking account in the name of one Sayuri Mazawa, the password, account number, and pin code can be found on an adhesive not attached to the card. Your success in this mission will rely on your ability to stay relatively unnoticed fly under the radar, skills we are aware that you are in possession of.

Other individuals such as yourself exist in this building suffering the same predicament, your ability to work with them is also key to your success. All will be revealed in time. As an end note: even though we are aware of your nicotine habits, we did not include cigarettes. It is detrimental to a student's behavior and you should really quit anyway.

Respectfully,

...The signature line was blank. I read the paper over several times, look through the documents and licenses provided. I have to admit it calms me a bit, gets me from the edge of tears into something more focused. Focused and fucking pissed.
"Son of a bitch...!" I growl, whipping the folder across the room in a huff. Condescending assholes trying to get in the way of my smoking habit always pisses me off. I'll smoke if I want to, step the fuck off. I had so many questions but I didn't think any were getting answered, at least immediately. And I was still skeptical. Still a good possibility that I'm just crazy. But that wouldn't explain all these documents. I know that I didn't dream up this information and I don't have a fucking passport, either.
"Wrong," I chime to my... guest, I guess, "No smokes. Fuckers told my I should quit." I sink my head into my good hand in frustration before eyeing the young man with an eyebrow raised. Who was he? I'd figure that out soon, but I had a plan first.

"I'm gonna need you to tell me a few things. First: what's my name? Second: what woman are you talking about? Third: Where are you from?" My tone was very accusatory, as it should've been. I already knew the answer to a few of those questions. If he knew my name or told me some Japanese bullshit, I might be crazy. If he said he didn't know then I knew it couldn't be the Duty or another Marine that knows me. The icing on the cake is where he's from. The woman, that was new to me. I wanted to find out anything I could about her.