Katters frowns, then laughs — first a chuckle, then a real, full-body, hands-on-knees, almost hysterical laugh. “Red,” she says, “if you’ve got something to get high with, I would not say no.” She laughs again, though this time it’s hard to tell whether it’s a laugh or a sob, covering her nose and mouth with her hands. It’s not long before she’s calmed down and put her serious face back on. “Okay,” she says. “There’s something appropriate about trying to climb out of Hell — something poetic. Let’s do it.”
"...you know what, with all the weird shit in those packets, I bet there's something." She looks thoughtful, suddenly a little intrigued. "But yeah. Fuck it. Desperate measures are a fuckload easier if you've got someone to act in desperation with ." She steps to the windowsill and swings down to the next room. She's clearly been doing this for awhile.
Seems unnecessary to follow her if they’re just going to come right back up. Katters leans out the window, propping her elbows on the sill, and waits for Red to come back.
How long does it take to round up a few packs of food? Not this long. Katters didn’t hear any fighting, so probably not another monster. Probably. She didn’t see Red bail out the only exit, so Red didn’t ditch her. She should go check. She doesn’t want to — unless she wants to try crawling down headfirst, she’s going in blind, and that is not an appealing notion. Still, though, standing around isn’t doing her any favours so far, either. Katters hooks the kit on her foot by the handle and lowers herself out the window. She swings the kit in through the lower window, letting it fall off her foot once it’s inside, then lets herself drop onto the lower windowsill. She crouches there, and looks inside.
Red is frozen, twitching and spasming, facing the back wall of the room. Her colouring seems faded, like she's not wholly present. She hasn't reacted to the kit dropping to the floor... or to you.
Hmmm. Yeah, no. It was nice knowing you, Red, but it looks like this is the end of that particular “friendship.” Katters reaches in just enough to grab her kit, and climbs — as quietly as she can — back up.
Instead of stopping at the death room, Katters keeps going, climbing up to the next window. She does stop there, balancing on the sill, taking a look around before deciding whether or not she’s going to go in.
There's a vending machine inside, bright and glowing. The city stretches out as far as the eye can see.
“Well, that sucks,” Katters says, swinging her legs into the room. “Sorry, Red, looks like you didn’t need to go back for the food, after all.” She stares at the machine from her seat on the windowsill. She can already guess it’s not going to be full of Snickers. “Maybe she’d feel better if I brought some of this back to her.” She chuckles, then frowns, ears flicked back in thought. “Shit, maybe it was the food did that to her in the first place.” She pulls out the pack of cigarettes and taps it against her knuckles. “Well, can’t be helped. Even if I wanted to,” she says as she takes out a cigarette, “no idea how I’d go about fixing whatever it is has happened to her. Probably just end up having to kill her, anyway — at least there’s a chance that will wear off on its own.” She lights the cigarette.
The lights of the touchpad glow, a cascade of colour drawing attention to them, then repeating, the same way it had been before she stepped in. There are many foil packets, all unidentifiable, any distinguishing marks turned away from sight.
“So,” Katters says. “Up or down, that is the question. Pretty sure ‘up’ isn’t going to do me any favours, actually — even if I did reach the top, what then? Shake a fist at God and demand re-entry to the real world? Down seems better, feels more likely as far as exits go.” She holds up the cigarette. “‘Down’s full of monsters,” she says in a high-pitched voice, bobbing the cigarette with each syllable. “And not a lot of room.” “‘Up’ is full of monsters,” she replies in her normal voice. “Probably.” “Other things too, though,” she says through the cigarette. “Wasn’t much ‘down’ but monsters.” She shrugs. “Eh. I’ll survive without vending machines and b- blankets. But I may not survive if I try to make it to the top, discover there’s nothing up there, and then have to make it all the way back down again anyway.” “That’s fair.” “I like options, ‘down’s got options.” “Does it, though? All I remember seeing are barred windows and locked doors.” “This window wasn’t barred, I’m sure there are others.” “So you can go ‘up’ a different building, instead of this one?” “I’m actually hoping for a door,” Katters says. “I’m tired of windows.” The cigarette pauses while Katters takes a drag off of it. “You’ll have to pass Red again,” it says when she’s finished. “She didn’t seem to mind the first time.” “Not in much of a state to mind anything, to be honest.” “What are you getting at?” “Oh, nothing,” the cigarette says, “just that the only other person around needs your help and you abandoned her.” “I already justified that — I couldn’t help her even if I wanted.” “Sure, sure,” the cigarette says but doesn’t sound convinced. “But maybe if you took a look at the problem for longer than two seconds something might come to you.” “Or I could end up in the same problem Red’s in.” “All I’m saying is you didn’t try.” “Yeah, well, maybe I want to go ‘up’ after all.” “Fine,” the cigarette snaps. “Do it.” “Maybe I will!” Katters glares at the cigarette in icy silence. After a minute, she gets up and walks over to the vending machine. The cigarette speaks first: “Red has the ladder,” it says. Katters fishes some change out of her pocket and slots it into the vending machine. She hits a couple buttons more-or-less at random. “So if you want to go down, you’ll have to deal with her, anyway,” it adds. “I thought I was going up.” “Sure,” the cigarette bobs in a shrug. “But if you change your mind.”
Katters picks up the package and stuffs it in her vest pocket. She walks back over to the window and leans out it, backwards, looking up at the seemingly endless building, and the seemingly infinite windows between her and the top. “Climb would probably be easier with company,” the cigarette says. “Shut up.” “Just sayin’.” She grabs the kit and starts out the window, straddling the sill, halfway between ‘up’ and ‘down’. “She gave you food, the least you could do to repay her—” “Oh my god!” Katters says. “Fine! Jesus Christ, just shut up!” She puts the cigarette out and away. “I have got to quit those things,” she says, and starts climbing down.
As her foot hits the windowsill to the room Red is in, Katters hears a rattly struggle for breath and a choked sobbing sound.
Red's knees hit the ground and she lets out a choking sob, scratching at her throat with long claws. In the time you were gone, something happened, that much is... clear. There's blood dripping down to slowly form a small puddle on one of her bare feet.
“Whoa! Hey!” Katters runs across the room and grabs Red’s hands, restraining her. “You’re gonna hurt yourself! You have hurt yourself!” She pulls Red back, angling her toward the light so she can better see what’s going on.
It looks like the injury to her leg may not be self-inflicted - a quick glance down as she stumbles back shows the passage of a gunshot through the meat of one leg, straight through, hidden from behind by her already-ragged, red cloak. She locks eyes with Katters, fear shining bright, but grabs at her hands, gripping them tight and letting out another choking sound, mouth opening as she struggles to breathe. A thorny vine writhes, in the back of her throat, trying to grow upwards and outwards, leaving barely enough room for her to breathe around it, carving scratches on the inside of her throat. The muscles of her throat spasm, working, and she manages to gag out two words around the girth blocking her throat. "kill it-"
