THE TELLTALE SOUND of eerie classical music spilled into the stale, stagnant air surrounding Asuka, stirring her and those around her awake and out of their drugged-out state as though they were being controlled like robots, activated by the tone of trumpets and forced to march. The melody only seemed to grow louder with each passing note as Asuka gradually gained her consciousness back, contributing heavily to the disgustingly painful migraine due to the gas they used to knock people out with as she used the opportunity to do a quick sweep around her surroundings.
Like before, the first thing she could take note of past the pounding in her head as though there were tiny builders renovating the inside of her skull, was the bright artificial lights burning high above her which didn't help with the pain in her head. She had expected to be frightened waking up in this strange facility again, but at this point, she just felt numb. She had mentally prepared herself before she even stepped foot into that van, and she looked the worker right in the eye as he pressed a button and gas drifted out from the vents. This time felt different to her.
The huge warehouse engulfed the amount of track-suited people scattered around the place. It seemed only bigger and more spacious now that there were less beds set up for the contestants. While the majority had died in the previous game, a portion of the survivalists didn't return to participate, not that she could fault them for it. It only met less meat for her to go through in order to win the cash prize at the end of the day. Despite the empty feeling it gave Asuka, beginning to see these people less as humans and more as obstacles in the way of the money, knowing there were less people she had to fight against made her feel both relief and unease.
Nothing about the room, and its inhabitants made her feel safe or comforted, though.
Slowly, she peeked her head out from behind the frame of her bunk bed, and scanned the world around her, spotting familiar faces in the crowd, some who had picked the choice to stay and returned just as promised, and others who didn't, but came back anyways to try their hand at winning. It hurt to see them seeing no other reason to survive on the outside when they were given an opportunity of a literal lifetime to play alongside other poverty stricken people.
It wasn't like Asuka genuinely wanted to play again, like there was some sadistic part of her that was curious to know what the other games entailed, or if she wanted to see if she was strong, or clever enough to succeed. She just had to. There was no turning back from what she did. The blood on her hands was forever going to be a stain on her consciousness for as long as she lived, and she had done a good job at avoiding thinking about it. Pushing the memory into the back of her mind, and treating it as though her boss had simply gone on a holiday, rather than being surrounded by forensic scientists, and detectives trying to figure out why this man was killed.
