To Whom This Now Concerns,

He listened as each of them answered. Essentially, they seemed to agree on one thing: a long life was pointless if it wasn't fulfilled.

He hoped the Doc would be pleased and leave them be, but he knew that wouldn't be the case. He looked to Tasha, who'd sat down beside him and essentially shut the rest of the group out.
She really seemed to trust him.
He knew he should admit his lie then and there to avoid trouble later. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Minus this Willy guy who'd stumbled in looking for beer, everyone was pretty bummed. Right now, his lie was the only thing giving them hope. If they hated him for it later, so be it -- he was plenty used to being hated. For now though, he'd keep up the farce. And that meant answering the question he'd asked everyone else.

"Honestly, life is crap. It's painful and stupid and lonely... at least, until you find somethin' worth living for."
"What's the point of going on for so many years if there's nothing you want to do?"
"Better to die happy than live depressed."​

He knew this far too well. The only thing that kept him going was the hope that he could make things right. And even then, his life was still crap. There was no getting past that fact.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the shot he needed.
He had a chance here that he may never get again, and even if it was stupid and reckless, it was his only shot.​

 

Callum sat rather still as everybody explained their views, his face still one of complete shock and fear after what Willy had done. He had touched him, somebody had invaded his personal bubble, had tried to be friends with him? That was not on, he was most certainly not okay with that. Once Damien finished stating his views, he thought about the others' views. He could respect them, as he did everybody's beliefs, no matter how stupid or incorrect he saw them as being. Sitting still in the seat, he decided that now it was his turn to speak.

"Could not agree with you more about the beginning part there, but you lost me as you kept going. Debbie downer or not, I stand by what I always have, what I know is the truth. Happiness doesn't exist, it's just the drug that's fed to you to keep a person going, the falsehood told to you as children to convince you everything will be alright. Given the right circumstances, a person can see through this lie and view life as it really is; a depressive mess of bullshit that swirls around in an endless cycle of pain and torment" he said, now taking a big long breath at the end of it. That statement had had more emotion conveyed in it than he would've liked, and once again he found himself having trouble breathing. "The same goes for fulfillment. One big, huge deception to make yourself feel better. Congratulations, you completed your goal, don't you feel good about yourself? That's lovely, it really is a shame that is makes little to no difference in the grand scheme of things. Truth hurts, but hey, at least I'm not adding to that collection of lies you've all got goin' for you" he continued, the boy making things all too depressing, but saying things in a way that you could tell he wasn't just saying them for dramatic effect; he really believed what he said. Every word of it.

He pulled out a cigarette now that he had in his pocket. One of the few ones he had left. Callum found smoking to be a relieving exercise, one that almost made him feel better but didn't quite cut it. Still, it relaxed him to a certain extent. "Life itself though? Fits in with the fulfillment and happiness, honestly. Although the question asked which life I'd choose, right? A long life with no point to it, or a short one with an illusion to cover up my sorrow? Truth is.." he said, now casually leaning back on the chair so he was holding himself against the wall as he pulled out a lighter, lit the cigarette, put the lighter back into his pocket and took a huge inhalation of smoke. Breathing it out now, he opened his mouth to speak once more as he moved the cigarette away from his lips. "I choose option C, no life at all" he said, a slightly cold edge to his voice as he spoke.​

 

Drake listened as Double D explained his ever-depressing opinion. He did wonder had to happen to make a kid think like that, but he really wasn't paying too much attention to him. Until he pulled out a cigarette.

Oh, he'd been craving a smoke for the longest time. And since they were on the verge of hell breaking loose anyway, he figured it wouldn't do him any harm now. He got up and moved over to him, waiting until he was finished, and snatched the lit cig from him as he finished his statement. He walked over to the corner where Tasha had been standing before and took a deep breath before pulling it out with two fingers and speaking.

"Well, isn't that just cheery?"​

He was tired of sitting. He felt like they were all getting a little too comfortable. He needed to move, to be ready, but he also needed some guilty pleasure. Right now, the 'poison' in his fingers was all that supplied the latter. He could tell that Señor Sunshine would start complaining or whining any second, so he inhaled the smoke again and smiled before speaking up.

"But you are alive. So tough luck on that front."
"You need to start finding a way to make the most of the time you got."
"And either way, the last thing you need is to be smoking at, what, 14?"​

He chuckled softly, letting the cig rest in between his lips as he spoke.

"We all need pick-me-ups, and there might not be donuts here... but nothin' beats a good smoke."​

It felt good to finally get a jab at the kid. Honestly, he really couldn't care less if he pulled it out and lit up right in front of a 'cop.' Dealing with him in the future was clearly going to be a nightmare.

 

"Happiness doesn't exist, it's just the drug that's fed to you to keep a person going, the falsehood told to you as children to convince you everything will be alright."

William chuckled. "The amount of ignorance is really quite appalling." William thought to himself. He shook his head. "Don't speak too soon, happiness does in fact exist, in chemicals." William started "Endocannabinoids, Dopamine, Oxytocin, Endorphin, GABA, Serotonin and of course, Adrenaline." William explained.

"Though I am, cold and calculating as Miss Tasha pointed out, quite correctly, by the way, I imagine normal, boring people think love and happiness a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive. Though you're right in a sense, it would be very easy for you to be happy if such drugs got into your system. For instance, Anti-Depressions, or "Happy Pills", which I believe you do in fact need, release Serotonin. " He finished, looking rather pleased with himself. "Maybe the higher ups can supply some of those for you." He smiled smugily.

"We all need pick-me-ups, and there might not be donuts here... but nothin' beats a good smoke."

William nodded. "Clearly." He looked over at Drake, lifting up his arm to reveal 3 nicotine packs on his arm and bicep. "It's hard to keep up a smoking habit around here these days." He said. "Unfortunate really." He shook his head. He tabbed his foot on the floor, impatiently. He hated the enclosed space, the lack of fresh air. He didn't mind the smoke much but still. Could they open a window? Had he even looked for one when he came in? He was being easily distracted. No, no he needed to focus. He grabbed something else to eat from the table, and closed one of his eyes. It helped him think.

 

After he had given his view on the given question, Damion had remained fairly quiet as some of the others spoke. As they went on he'd partially tuned them out some he only caught bits and pieces of what they said. None of which was all that much important to him. At this point he just wanted to see who was the one responsible for sending the letter or at least get the little meeting that they were having over with.

He'd almost successfully tuned them out when his nose picked up a familiar smell. Looking up he saw that not only was the annoyance smoking, but so were Drake and Will were smoking as well. While Damion could tolerate being about one drunk and or one person smoking, putting three together was pushing it a bit. With every breath in he took along with it came the smell of tobacco, which in turn brought some less wanted memories. Unlike the last time where a old memory resurfaced, this one had a bit more to it. Mainly because it involved more of his step dad.

While Damion has going through shit memory lane, he overheard Tasha asking them to put away the cigarettes. Least he wasn't the only one who had a problem with the smoke. Hopefully that would increase the likely hood of them, or at least two of them, stopping. Of course it would probably also help if he spoke up so that they knew that he too had an issue with them smoking. "Or at least wait til we're outside if you want to smoke." Damion sighed not to long after he said that. With these being the people that he's going to be working with, he might as well point out of the somewhat minor things that he dislikes.

 

Drake listened to Will and looked over at his nicotine patches. Three in one shot seemed a little much, but so long as the kid wasn't actually smoking he supposed it wasn't that bad.

"Yeah, I've never been a patch kind of guy. There's just something about the smoke."​

Soon two of the kids chimed in, Damion and Tasha. Neither of them seemed to like his bad habit, and he sighed. He should've known better, but it'd been so long and just seeing the smoke gave him the itch. He was weak. He breathed in the sweet smoke -- to him, anyway -- one more time and put the light out on the table. Nothing near it was flammable, so that should be fine. He then opened the door to let the room air out a bit.

He hoped no one else would come. He hoped that the only people who'd gotten themselves into this mess were the six of them. And yet, selfishly, he hoped someone more capable of getting them all out of it would barge in. Someone actually still in the force, someone with backup. He looked away from the group, leaning on the door to keep it open. This lie was going to break him eventually, and for just a second, he wished he could be as cold and uncaring as Double D. At least he seemed to be accepting of his fate...

 

William nodded as Drake talked. As the silence took over, he looked back at the letter in his box. He re-read it in his mind. He thought about both of the questions carefully. Though one looked like much more fun, it could also potentially be dangerous. But they wouldn't really hurt him right?.... He tapped his fingers on the desk, making the silence even more eerie. He put his cup down on the table, making it clatter loudly. He made eye contact with everyone, one by one as he paced around the room. He cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, before opening them again, with a new kind of sparkle.

"What if I told you right now, I was one of the people working here?" He said, leaning back on the wall. His face has an unreadable expression, more over to the serious side. He theorized a few things could happen here. Everyone would give their answers calmly, loudly or even might harm him. He was ready for anything now. He smirked slightly, flipping his hair to the other side of his face. He didn't know what could be coming next. They might even believe it to be true. And if they did, who knows what would be happening next. He reasoned with himself, thinking that he might get punched.

 

The lessening of the amount of smoke that he had to deal with was a relief. More traces of fresh air entered into his lungs, Damion brought himself out of his memories and into the situation at hand. Just in time to hear William ask another question. It took a moment for him to remember that there was a book with his name on it as well, so this must've been the question that he was given.

What if I told you right now, I was one of the people working here?"

"Then could you kindly make your presence know before us. We've all been here waiting and all you've done is give us these icebreakers. I'm fairly certain that most of us here would like to see the one who invited us." Damion calmly answered. Considering how the question was worded, it was like they intended to sow seed of distrust among them all. A tactic that might've work on some people better than others. It didn't help how calm and certain of himself William was when he asked the question, but he assumed that that was just an act played with the question to see who would react badly.

 

When the cop had stolen his smoke, Callum had been inclined to go and take it back, he had been wanting to go and simply punch the man in the face, but he quickly remembered that he had more cigarettes where that one had come from. He looked around for a moment, looking to see if anybody objected; not that it mattered, of course. Sure enough, two people seemed to dislike the idea of it. The gothic girl that was overly protective of her brother, and the nerd that seemed to be an aspiring librarian. What a boring job, Callum thought to himself. Well, neither of them meant a thing to him, so he took another cig out and lit it, now beginning to enjoy the slight relief it brought him.

He turned his head slightly to look at the know-it-all as he asked his question. Did he really think it mattered whether he worked here or not? What a stupid question. "If you work here, good for you, work's hard to get these days. If you don't, then congratulations, you're a lying *******, but we knew the second part already didn't we?" he said, chuckling to himself a little. "Regardless, It matters very little if you actually do or not. The method of execution won't change depending on your occupation. Although, if you do work here I would ask that you hurry things up a little, like little bookworm here requested. Much as I loooooove socialising, I'm starting to get over it" he said, his voice layered heavily with sarcasm at the end there.​

 

Drake barely heard Will ask the question, but he caught it and made sure to be ready for anyone who might try to start something. Though surprisingly, no one did. They'd all caught on to the Doc's game and just wrote it off as a 'conversation starter.'

Of course, all the peace and calm wasn't good enough for Double D, since he just had to light up again. Drake had to admit that he enjoyed breathing in the cancerous smoke, but Tasha seemed to think differently. She started out soft and polite, but quickly snapped at him. He was actually kind of glad that she smacked him over the head, but he still decided it'd be best to intervene.

He moved over to Double D, seeing as Tasha had gone back to her spot and snuffed out his cig. He looked the little brat over before rolling his eyes and putting his hand out.

"Come on, I know you've got 'em."
"Unless you want your ass handed to ya twice, I'd hand 'em over."
"Or are you really into all that pat down crap?"
​

He wasn't going to play games anymore. He was sick of his attitude, and if he ended up on the kid's shit list for it, so be it. He was an inexperienced little punk and nothing more.

 

"Are we going to keep fighting now? Sweet!"

The voice seemed to echo from the other side of the room, and up in a chair in the corner of the room was someone shadowed in the dark with their feet up on the table. It was clear though that the voice was a female's, even if it was a little deep for a girl. The girl had something in her hand that she tossed up and down and she continued.

"You know, I get that the boss wants you all to get along, but I'm loving listening to this... it's bonding... in the informal way."

The girl stood up from the chair and walked up closer to them. Light shined a little more on her but only enough to make out that she was holding a knife.

"Hey. I've got an idea. I'm not supposed to do this but if you all want, you can get out of here without having to do anything else... you have to do one of two things."

The girl twirled around the knife and spoke, "Since you all know each other so well. If you can each tell me at least three hobbies of two others in here... actual hobbies with details. You can leave... or..."

She put the knife on the table and sung, "There's an old tradition. A game we all can play."

She pulled a bottle of liquor out and put it on the table and continued singing, "You start by getting liquored up and sharpening your blade." she grabbed the knife and started to sharpen it as she continued singing, "You take a shot of whiskey, you grab your knife and pray."

She took a quick drink of the bottle and put her hand on the table, "And spread apart your fingers, and this is what you say."

She started going in a pattern by stabbing the table in between her fingers to a beat, "Oh I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop! chop chop!"

She twirled the knife a bit and continued, sounding a little less sane, "If I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off... and if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out... but all the same I play this game cause that's what it's all about."

She looked up at the group, clearly not looking at her hand as she continued stabbing the spaces between her fingers, "No you cannot use a pencil, you cannot use a pen. The only way is with a knife when danger is your friend. And some may call it stupid, one may call it dumb. But all the same we play this game because it's so damn fun."

She stabbed harder into the table as she continued, "Oh I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop, if I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off. And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out. But all the same I play this game cause that's what it's all about."

The girl immediately started to go faster, "Oh Chop Chop Chop Chop Chop Chop Chop, I'm picking up the speed."

She spun it around again and went even faster and went, "And if I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed!" when she finished she stabbed the knife into the table and held up her hands, which had a couple scars but no new wounds, "That was a close one, I was having a little too much fun there... hehe..."​

 

Conflict and disaster, arguments and woe, all of it was little to nothing in the mind of Willy. The sweet deliciousness of food was overwhelming and amazing. If his mouth wasn't so full he would be drooling from the many rich flavours that entered his mouth. He did know what exactly these people were talking about, all he heard was pure anguish and sorrow and rage and he had no interest in such business. If they wanted to hate those around them then so be it, it did not bother him,

As they continued to bicker and bicker, Willy's attention was suddenly caught by the voice of a newcomer. She spoke about how they did not get along and there was a way to get out, but Willy had no real desire to leave, after all he liked it here so why would he want to leave? it was nice, but suddenly one word caught his attention and made his senses jump. The word of "liquored" immediately made him turn around and put all his attention into what she said "AH! FIVE FINGER FILLET!" Willy said happily as he twirled and ballet jumped away from the snack table and grinned happily "THIS PLACE IS AMAZING!" Willy said happily. "LETS ALL GET DRUNK...maybe then people will stop being such drama queens..." Willy said happily...grumbling the last bit loudly

 

Callum was not expecting the hit to the back of the head. Not prepared, he fell forward and hit the ground with a loud thud, helplessly putting his hands in front of him to stop some of the pain of the fall. With a bit of a grunt, the boy got up, only for the cop to snuff out his cigarrette and demand more.

"The hell is wrong with both of you? One of you assaults me, and the other's trying to mug me for my cigs? Don't deny it, I can see that look in your eyes. Most of you here have it, that look of dislike, of hatred, I've seen it every day of my life. I bet you even-"

Callum stopped talking, interrupted by the sound of somebody singing. Not singing some ridiculously happy song, of all things they were singing about a knife game. Fantastic, another damn psycho in here he thought to himself. "If you think I'm going to simply hand over my only method of relief in here you've got another thing coming" he said, responding to Damien. Looking back at his assaulter, he decided to address her next.

"You want to get back to your brother quickly? Go play that stupid game. I doubt you can name any of our hobbies, so that's your only shot. Hell, maybe we'll get lucky and you'll lose a finger or two. It'd sure make my day a hell of a lot entertaining"​

 

It was far too rude just to go first and so he watched on as the only girl of their little group walked up and took the chance in order to play the game. Honestly if they just spared him one little shred of conversation they would have clearly been able to tell his hobbies without even really asking for them. They would have been half way done, but then again, he did see what the big rush to leave was...perhaps things were going to quite interesting.

"No, No, No! your playing it wrong! you didn't do the most important part! You were supposed to drink until you were drunk! That take out all the fun of it!" Willy said heading over to the table. "Honestly please tell me that this little game is not a way out, that'd be dull and boring..." Willy said slamming his left palm on the table while grabbing the bottle of liquor with his other hand before he began to drink. He still left some for the others but sighed in relief. "Ah...sweet sweet liquid love..." Willy grabbing the knife.

"Oh, I have all my fingers, The knife goes chop, chop, chop If I miss the spaces in between, My fingers will come off, And if I hit my fingers, The blood will soon come out, But all the same I play this game, 'Cause that's what its all about!" Willy began to sing in a very orchestrated manner, stabbing the spaces in between his fingers, the speed increasing as a his eyes shimmered in glee and a big grin grew on his face. "Oooooooooooooh, chop chop chop chop chop chop chop, I'm picking up the speed, and If I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed." Willy sang before twirling around the knife in hand and stabbed it hard into the table before him, stabbing between the middle and ring fingers. With it done and over Willy closed his eyes and grinned as he held up his bloody hand. "Ah! I've gotten a bit rusty, but lookie! my fingers are all in tact" Willy said. There were numerous cuts on his fingers, but nothing deep. Bringing out a napkin he began tearing it apart and wrapping the streams around his fingers.

 

William raised his eyebrows as he heard a new voice.

"Are we going to keep fighting now? Sweet!"

The voice seemed to echo from the other side of the room, and up in a chair in the corner of the room was someone shadowed in the dark with their feet up on the table. It was clear though that the voice was a female's, even if it was a little deep for a girl. The girl had something in her hand that she tossed up and down and she continued.

"You know, I get that the boss wants you all to get along, but I'm loving listening to this... it's bonding... in the informal way."

The girl stood up from the chair and walked up closer to them. Light shined a little more on her but only enough to make out that she was holding a knife.

"Hey. I've got an idea. I'm not supposed to do this but if you all want, you can get out of here without having to do anything else... you have to do one of two things."

The girl twirled around the knife and spoke, "Since you all know each other so well. If you can each tell me at least three hobbies of two others in here... actual hobbies with details. You can leave... or..."

She put the knife on the table and sung, "There's an old tradition. A game we all can play."

William spit out a bit of what he was drinking, quickly getting a napkin to wipe it up. He narrowed his eyes at her, watching as she put a bottle of liquor on the table. William nearly facepalmed. He should have known that those questions in the boxes weren't just for kicks. He watched as the others did it. He pondered the probability of him chopping off his own fingers, but he didn't see it to be likely. He tapped his fingers on the desk. He was glad he didn't get drunk quickly. He had to heighten his alcohol tolerance for a case. As for the knife game however, he used to do it when he was bored, but then his roommate Jonathan, told him to stop. It had been a while since he had seen it being played. Almost a year or maybe two, he didn't quite remember. Either way he felt very rusty. He also looked at the other choices he had. He could always take the knife and use it against their new friend, but the probability of him being dead after that seemed a tad bit too high. He thought of other options, but knew quickly that there weren't any. Tasha looked nervous, and upset at this choice of game. Him himself, would've chose Operation. But that didn't involve knife wounds. He stood up quickly after Willy was finished.

He looked at their new friend. "Quite an introduction." He told her. He took the knife in his hands, twirling it in his fingers as he often did. He normally didn't sing when he played, but he sighed heavily and did so anyway. "Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop. If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off, and if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out, but all the same I play this game, 'Cause that's what its all about." William started singing in a neutral tone. He braced himself as he went faster. "Oh, chop chop chop chop chop chop, I'm picking up the speed, and if I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed."

William grimaced. He was doing so well, until that last line. He cut into his pinkie finger. As if in defiance, he took the knife and slammed it hard on the table. The cut was deep enough to catch William's attention. He quickly grabbed a couple of napkin's, and tied it quickly before his blood could make a mess. He remembered how Johnathan showed him to tie up another wound he got on a case, since Johnathan was a doctor he tended to it. He tied it like Johnathan would have, and then sat back down. "It's been a pleasure." He told their knife happy friend.

 

Drake listened to the newcomer. This girl was a complete creep, and once she'd given them their choices, he thought no one would be stupid enough to try the knife game. Oh, how wrong he was. Though most of them hadn't had the whiskey, they all came out with at least one gash on their fingers. He wasn't too concerned with Will or Willy, but he was surprised that Tasha had been the first one to try. She was already waiting by the door, her bloody hand ready to open her gateway to freedom. She calmly looked over at him, and he moved to her.

"Are you insane?"
"That was stupid!"​

He looked at the new lackey they had to deal with and shouted.

"You want hobbies? Fine!"​

He pointed to Willy.

"This guy likes getting drunk off his ass, sleeping on a couch and eating all the food in his fridge in one shot."​

He knew those traits a bit too well himself, but without missing a beat, he snapped his fingers and moved his finger over to Debbie Downer.

"And this kid. Oh, this kid."
"Smoking in a crowded room, killing the mood in any social situation and just generally being a little shit."​

He looked back to the girl and put his hands in his pockets. He shrugged his shoulders.

"That good enough for ya?"​