"Kill me?" Stanley repeated. "Doesn't look like you can."
The girl's hold on the knife tightened. Her hands were shaking.
"Do you want to try?" she said. Her voice trembled.
Stanley watched her for a moment. Then he sighed. "No, I give up."
He raised his hands very slowly. His palms are open.
She blinked. Took a step forward. "Yeah," she said awkwardly and quickly. "I knew that's what you'd say."
Stanley smiled slightly. He pulled out a plastic bottle from his bag.
"I didn't give you permission to move," she said, raising her knife slightly.
"Save that for later," Stanley said. He turned towards the bathroom, entering it without pause.
The sound of running water soon followed. He filled the bottle and placed it on the ground. Then he removed his hoodie, followed by the shirt underneath. He leaned forward to get closer to the sink.
Cold water splashed against his skin.
He stayed there longer than he had to, letting it seep down his neck and down his arms. He breathed slowly.
He straightened up and looked around.
The mirror above the sink was broken cleanly in half. His face was mirrored back to him in two uneven sections.
Stanley raised his hands and washed them thoroughly, rubbing his palms together and then his fingers. The gray streaks were carried down into the drain with the running water. He continued to wash until the water was clear.
He closed the faucet and wiped his face with a cloth from his bag. The cloth was a bit rough, but it got the job done. He folded it once and put it aside.
It was the first time since the stadium that there had not been anyone screaming nearby. No machines. No bombs. Just the hum of pipes in the walls.
He didn't know how long it'll last.
Stanley grabbed his soaked shirt and hoodie, folded them against his arm, and headed back to the doorway.
He stepped back into the room, and he saw that the girl had moved to the side of the bed. His baggage had fallen open.
She was frozen in shock at the sight of him.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Stanley asked.
She recoiled as if she'd been struck, her dagger jerking up in her hand. "I—I—"
Her eyes fell, then widened.
Stanley stood in the light, shirtless, moist skin reflecting the dim light.
"Ah!" she cried suddenly, throwing the dagger.
Stanley ducked just in time. The blade made a dull thud as it struck the wall just behind him.
"The hell you doing?" he snapped.
"Shut up," she said hastily, retreating. "I know what you're planning. I know what people like you do."
"And what exactly am I planning?" He stood up and walked towards the bed.
"Don't come any closer!" She staggered backward, hugging herself. "I said don't!"
Stanley ignored her and gathered his clothes. He put on a dry shirt, scrunched his nose in distaste at the smell, but shrugged resignedly.
"Good enough," he muttered.
He reached for another cloth from the bag and sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes darted towards her.
She was terrified. Confused. All her worst thoughts piled atop one another with nowhere to go.
He chuckled to himself and said: "I don't know what you are thinking, but you should better calm down."
"So you can take that chance to make your move?" She retorted.
He slowly tears the fabric into two pieces. "What move?"
"You all are after my body. Disgusting human," she repeated in a low voice.
Huh?? Stanley looked up at her.
Her arms were wrapped around her body. He understood now and laughed slightly.
"Why are you laughing at that?"
"No. Like, seriously? How did you come to that conclusion?"
Her eyes narrowed at him, but no words were formed.
He shook his head. "If that's what you worried so much about, then you can relax. I'm into kids."
"I am not a kid."
"I'm Bernadette Lancaster. Third child of Abel Lancaster. And I am already fifteen."
He found her answer slightly amusing. "And I'm Stanley," he said. "Nice to meet you Bernadette."
'Prin—' She paused and then repeated. 'Don't use my name so easily, you dirt.'
"Yeah, whatever makes you breathe better." He started wrapping the cloth around his arm.
After he finished wrapping the cloth around his arm, he tied it once. He flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulder.
He gave it a few seconds, letting the pain build. It still hurts, but not that much.
"Can work with it," he said quietly.
Again, he dug into the bag and pulled out the busted drone.
It was dull metal, the warmth lost, but it still seemed heavier than it appeared. It landed on the ground between his feet as he dropped to a squat.
Bernadette shifted where she stood, watching him closely.
"Interesting, isn't it?"
"Filthy," she scoffed, but kept watching.
Stanley turned the drone over and inspected it underneath. The metal body was slick and smooth except for the thin crack where it had sustained damage. But no visible opening.
He pressed along the edges with his thumbs.
Nothing.
He tried again, harder this time. Still nothing.
Stanley let out a deep breath and leaned back toward the bed. His hand closed on the dagger she had hurled earlier. He checked the rough edges once.
Bernadette stiffened.
He slid the blade carefully into the damaged seam and twisted. The casing gave with a dull snap.
The drone split open just enough to show its inside: wires, small chips layered tightly together, a compact battery unit seated at the center.
Nothing seemed familiar.
Everything serves a purpose in the package.
Stanley frowned a little.
He poked at one of the chips, then traced a wire with his finger. Most of them were burned.
"what should I do with this?," he grumbled, pushing back into place a wire that was loose. For a moment, nothing happened.
Next, there was a faint blue glow in the drone.
Stanley froze.
A low sound followed.
Beep
Beep
Beep
His eyes widened.
"What's that sound?" Bernadette asked, her steps staggered backwards.
The sound increased faster. He acted on impulse.
Stanley seized the drone and threw it at the wall. The drone smashed into the wall and fell to the ground, still blinking.
The noise didn't cease.
Beep
Beep
Stanley took a step backward. Something was about to happen.
Another blast?
He lunged forward, and tore the casing right off. His hands flew, pulling wires apart until one was loose.
The sound stopped abruptly.
There was silence in the room. Stanley stood his ground, panting heavily, his eyes locked intensely on the drone. Nothing happened.
Straightening slowly, he wiped his soaked pants. Next, he turned to Bernadette.
"We have to move, right now."