The boy's glasses were slightly fogged, because the gag was making his breathing awkward and some of the air was directed upwards as he panted with panicked, near-hysterical breaths. He'd woken up about five seconds ago, and it had taken three of them to realize he was somewhere wrong and the other two to realize he couldn't get away.

[i]Think, think, work this out fool...No windows, dirt floor, low ceiling, must be underground. Gods above, what is this place?[/i] His heart was pounding so loudly it was a wonder it hadn't woken up some of the others. The old man, if he even was a man--how could a human being live in such a hellish state?--was creeping about, scouring the room. Did he not know they were tied here? [i]Some kind of dungeon? Other people, tied up like me. Ankles...wrists...legs...We're on the ground, not tied to anything, just tied.[/i] His joints ached and chafed as he wiggled to see how tight the ropes were. The old man spoke of meat and blood, of being full. His bestial crouch, his obvious insanity, they were more terrifying than his blindness was pitiable. The boy was growing desperate.

Kenji Nakamura liked logic, liked things to make sense even if they weren't simple. But simple wasn't always bad; indeed, within limitations humans were found to often be more creative than if they had complete freedom. Writing a story about "something" was always easier than creating a story from "nothing." This situation he found himself in could not be more simple, because despite all the variables, there were only two possible outcomes no matter what path he took.

There were multiple people tied up in this freak's dungeon, and said freak was apparently having a conniption over getting to cannibalize them. Kenji did not know the other people, or where they were within this building, or how he had gotten here. He did know that he did not want to die and did not feel enough pity for an old blind man to hold him back.

[i]What if he just overpowers me because I'm tied? What if he has a weapon?[/i]

[i]I'm going to murder someone, what the hell is wrong with me?[/i]

[i]He's blind, and he's old. I can do it. It's this or die.[/i]

Kenji rocked himself back and forth on his side until he could sit up. He rocked forward and pushed up with his legs until he could stand, though awkwardly, his knees still slightly bent. No doubt he'd make noise; no doubt the old man would notice. No doubt if this didn't work he'd be killed. 

Better to go quick than watch it happen to someone else, or wait helplessly for it. Better to succeed and not go at all.

With strength born of desperation, mind-numbing fear, and an intense feeling that somehow he'd seen someone just as psychotic as this old man before and had failed to stop them that last time, Kenji bent his legs and then pushed off, leaping like a frog. He came down both feet first with all his weight, hoping to land on the old man's head and break his neck. His eyes were blurring with tears even as adrenaline started to surge through his veins.