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January 29, Y109

@Clara Oswin Oswald & @William Hudson


You and your partner have woken up handcuffed together in a dimly lit space vaguely resembling a hotel room, with a bed and basic furnishings present, yet the door is shut and the only light seems a flickering lamp, and you are stuck on the floor. Neither one of you remembers what exactly happened the day/night before, or how you got where you are now. Do you know each other? Maybe, maybe not. But it doesn't matter now. All that matters is figuring out how to work together to get free of this situation, and continuing on with your lives.


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Clara Oswin Oswald

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A dimly lit room came into view as Clara cracked open an eye, her head swimming as she struggled to focus. She brought a hand up to forehead as she tried to stop everything in front of her moving.

Wait...a room? What the hell had happened for her to get here?

She then felt something against her back, and saw it was the edge of a bed, and she was sitting in front of it on the floor. Groaning as her muscles creaked from disuse, she attempted to move her other arm but realized immediately that it was weighted down. She looked down, and it was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her as she saw the handcuff.


“What-” Clara choked out as she uselessly rattled her wrist. It was then she realized that she wasn’t handcuffed to something, but someone. Taking a deep breath, the woman dared herself to look up and felt as though she’d been winded as she saw their face.

There were one of two possibilities of who that face could belong to, and Clara really, really did not want it to be the one from the restaurant. But, in her confused and dazed state, coupled with the darkness of the room, her mind leapt to the worst-case scenario, and she started looking around for something she could use to defend herself with.

The lamp was too high up, but she could reach the drawer. Quietly opening it, Clara felt around and her fingers grasped something. It was a...

“A bible? Great,” she almost rolled her eyes. It was better than nothing and even if she couldn’t beat to him death with it, maybe it would be enough to deter him. Vampires hated religious stuff, right?

She kept her gaze on the man next to her, ready to strike if he woke up and tried something.

Now she needed to find a key, or something sharp enough to cut through these things.
 
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Hudson jerked awake with a couple coughs, his throat dry from having his mouth open fuck knows how long. He winced and rubbed his head. Oh, man. It was killing him! How much had he drunk last night, man? Had he flirted with the wrong dude’s gal?

Gritting his teeth, he squinted blearily around the dingy room, taking in the bed, the flickering lamp, the tables and closets and shit. Huh, ho, man. This was a hotel room. Maybe he’d flirted with the right dude’s gal? Then again, he couldn’t remember a fuckin’ thing about last night. Plus he was still wearing his pants. It couldn’t have been that great, man.

He started to rise to his feet, but somethin’ tugged at his wrist. What the hell, man?

Still slow and thick headed from sleep, he stared blankly at the strap of his tank top, following his bare arm down to his hand. Metal gleamed in the lamp light. Was that a bracelet, man? No, man. A chain was attached to one end. Solid, sturdy, badass loops. The type you couldn’t break.

Brain firing sluggishly, he followed the chain to a woman. Hudson couldn’t make out her features ‘cos of the way the lamp was fuckin’ glaring in his eyes, but she had a hot outline, man.

He straightened up and broke out into a big gappy grin, pretty much most of the sleep fog lifting from his mind. His head still ached like a fuckin’ bitch, but he dismissed it as background.

“Hey, baby,” he put on the ol’ Billy Hudson charm. “You wanna cuff me to the bed next?”

He clenched hold of the chain, letting out a triumphant “c’mon, baby!”, before attempting to yank her on top of him. His pants already felt a little too tight. Hey, man. Don’t look at him that way, man. Don’t fuckin’ judge him. It’d been too fuckin’ long since he’d got any pussy. The women on this rock always looked like men or were already taken or uptight and frigid as fuck.
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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Okay, he was waking up. Time to see just who this really was.

She still couldn’t see him properly, her grip tightening around the book. She expected him to maybe say something, but what came out of his mouth, followed by what he did next surprised even her.

Her nose wrinkled at his poor attempt at flirting, but before she could so much as roll her eyes and think of a comeback, she was pulled forward wrist first, his voice ringing in her ear.

“Hey, get off me!” She shouted, not really caring if anyone heard. What kind of place left two people to be chained up anyhow? Especially if one of them was either an insane marine or a bloodthirsty monster?

He managed to get her on top of him, but it only earned him a blow to the side of his face as she brought the book down, spine first. That is, if her aim was right in this bloody darkness.
 
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The voice sounded kinda familiar to him, man, but he didn’t pay it much mind. He was interested in only one thing right then. C’mon, baby! Gimme some lovin’!

But what she gave him was a book to the head, the sharp edge of the, like, narrow part catching him in the eye and across the cheekbone. Icy light burst in his vision on that side as though somebody had lit a firecracker in his skull, man. Fierce fuckin’ pain blazed through his face.

He screamed and fell back against the bed, cupping hold of his eye socket. “Jesus Christ!”

His voice dropped to a quiet moan, sometimes rising shrilly or threatening to crack as he whinged at the crazy bitch: “What the fuck’s your problem!? What’s your problem!? Oh, man. Oh, maaan. I can’t see anythin’ out my fuckin’ eye now!” Nor would anybody else with their hand covering half their face… “What if you’ve blinded it!? I need that eye!”

Seriously, man. What the fuck was her problem!? She was the one who’d cuffed ‘em!
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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Clara took the chance to scramble off him as he screamed in pain.

"My problem? You were the one that couldn't keep your hands to yourself. Touch me like that again mate and I'll do worse."

She rolled her eyes, more confident now that this wasn't the vampire. Otherwise, he would've torn her apart in seconds. "I barely hit you, stop bein' such bloody baby." She sighed, trying to see him through the dark. "It's you ain't it? Hudson."
 
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“No, miss. It’s the Easter bunny,” he answered her question, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He kept his hand pressed to his sore eye, squinting at her in the dark. With a stiffening of his spine, Hudson realized that he was cuffed to that rat fuck Company Rep’s sexdroid. His sexdroid, man. Least he guessed she was an android. Who the fuck else would date that greaseball bastard?

“Hey, you’re dog meat’s gal,” he said, tugging experimentally on his shackled wrist. No slack, man. “What’s with the cuffs? Is your sex life that bad you gotta invite more people along on the ride?”

He could believe that all right. She’d probably get more pleasure outta a frozen corpse than the Company Rep. More emotion, too. That guy was sure some kinda oily, cold blooded reptile shithead.
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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Of all the people to end up with, it had to be him. She glared in the dark at his smart-arse reply.

Her mouth dropped open as he also recognised her. “Yeah, 'cause I’d really want to be shacked up with you!” She snapped, exasperated. “I woke up like this.” Clara held up her cuffed wrist as best she could.

“Can we just focus on getting out of here, and nothin’ else?”
 
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Hudson flashed her a shit-eating grin, all wide eyes and gappy teeth. “You think lover boy’s gonna buy that bullshit excuse, miss?” He feigned an unconvincing falsetto, batting his eyelashes: “I didn’t sleep with him, Burkiepoo. I just woke up handcuffed to him in a hotel.”

The Company Rep may’ve been a slimy cocksucking toadball, but he wasn’t fuckin’ stupid. He’d probably gone to some centuries old ass licking university, like Harvard or Princeton.

Hudson dropped the sarcasm, his face thoughtful. “So how much did you drink last night?”
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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If looks could kill, Hudson would be a pile of ash right now. “Seriously? That’s your impression of me?” She irritably asked. “And why would I bring someone 'ere of all places and handcuff them with no memory of it? Do I look that desperate?” She paused, before quickly adding, “Don’t answer that.”

She was feeling around the floor, but she couldn’t go far thanks to this idiot who had all the wit to make a stuffed bird laugh. “Nothin’! And how do you know this wasn’t your idea if you can't seem to remember? Maybe you wanted revenge on Carter that much you kidnapped me?” It was grasping at straws, but Clara was feeling petty.
 
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Did she look desperate? Hudson opened his mouth to give a sarcastic answer, but closed it when she anticipated somethin' from him. He guessed that one would've been too easy, anyhow.

Any trace of snark faded from his face at the accusation. He frowned heavily.

“No, miss,” he said. “I ain’t a maggot lipped bastard like him. I wouldn’t never use people to get somethin’ I want, miss. That makes a man lower than a snake’s belly. If I did kidnap you last night, it was to take you away from him. He’s the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs! The iceberg that sunk the Titanic! You’re doomed - you’re fucked - if you stay with him!”

The Company Rep was the fuckin’ Devil! Six, six, six on his fuckin’ forehead, man!
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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He seemed to get the hint, and didn’t answer – just as well, otherwise, he’d be looked at a permanently dinted forehead.

Clara sighed as Hudson again made Carter out to be basically worse than Satan. She was no longer annoyed, just sad that it had come to this – that the marine couldn’t see that everyone made mistakes, and Carter was truly sorry.

“There’s no convincin’ you he’s good, is there?” She folded her arms and looked at him as best she could through the shadow. T“I know most of what ‘appened, and…even if you think he’s the worst person in the universe, I’m sorry for what you had to go through. But, I know him, I like him, and…I’m still here. Not dead or anythin’,” she shrugged with a chuckle.
 
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“You couldn’t even convince me with a fuckin’ lobotomy,” Hudson fired back.

What she said next was like a fuckin’ nuke goin’ off in his skull! Kaboom, man! He stared bug-eyed at the foreign chick - French, he thought - his mouth falling open.

“You know!? And you’re still with that goat faced shit stain!?” he yelled, his voice trembling with rage and disbelief. “How the fuck can’t you think he’s the worst person in the universe? Oh, man! Oh, shit! You’re as bad as him! He sent you here to silence me!”

Holy fuck, man! He had to get outta here before the six-six-six bitch iced him! She was like one of ‘em black widow scorpions, which would have sex with a male and then bite off his head!

Hudson dived at the door, forgetting that he was still cuffed to the French fuck frog.
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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She expected him to scoff, maybe give a snort of derision, but his actual reaction made her eyes widen and have her shuffle slightly backwards; his words with filled with not only fear, but something else - rage.

“Hudson-what,” she started to try to calm him down before she was suddenly yanked forward. “Stop! You’re bein' ridiculous, I’m not gonna hurt-ow!” she could barely get a word in as she was dragged sideways. She had no other choice.

Lunging forward, she attempted to grab onto him, stop him flailing about. Even if she had to pin him to the floor with her knees on his arms (not a great look for someone who thinks you’re about to murder them)--anything before either of them got injured.

The table nearby, wobbled as Clara accidentally kicked it, sending the lamp crashing to the ground.
 
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“Oh, fuck!” he cried, losing his balance as she latched hold of him. She pinned him to the floor with her knees diggin’ into his arms. “Holy shit! You’re a fuckin’ Bond girl?”

Man, he would’ve had some fun guessing her code name, except she was totally tryin’ to fuckin’ strangle him with her thighs. He winced at the rowdy smash of the lamp.

“I don’t wanna hurt no woman!” he warned the French croissant eating frog bitch, hoping she’d take notice and get the fuck off him. She wasn’t some butterball squishing him into the floor like a cigarette butt. Maybe he could roll over so she was underneath him…

Before he could try, a rattle and click came from the door. He glanced up in time to see two uniformed dudes stride into the room. They jerked to a stop at the sight of ‘em, mouths open.

“Oh, man! I’m sure glad to see you guys!” Hudson boomed at them, voice strained from the pointy pressure on his arms. “You gotta stop this Eiffel Tower bitch! She’s fuckin’ crazy!”
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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“A what?!” She shouted back, even though her face was inches from his as she straddled him, trying not to get thrown off. He was going to listen to her, one way or another. Her eyes narrowed at his threat, but her head snapped up as the lock of the door clicked, and Clara felt her face heat up in humiliation as two uniformed men gaped at the scene before them.

The brunette quickly rolled off Hudson, not before she gave him a pointed look as he referred to her as an “Eiffel Tower bitch,” what was that even supposed to mean?!

“Me? You’re the one who nearly pulled my arms outta their sockets with your stupid…superstitions!” She was almost at a loss for words, briefly forgetting the men were even there.

They’d managed to compose themselves and one stepped forward. “You’ve both been in here over an hour, and still you’ve not managed to find the key, or a way out?” He looked at his partner witheringly, and Clara felt an urge to kick him where he hurt – how dare he stand there and say of all this? The desire only increased when he smirked, taking in their ruffled appearances, “It looks like you managed to have some fun, though.”

He then tossed something to them, a shiny object – it was the key! “We’ll make things a little easier for you – here’s the key the handcuffs, but you’ll still have to find a way out of here yourselves. Can’t have you both having all the fun.” Before Clara could scramble up and towards the door, they’d gone, locking it behind them. She pounded the floor with her fists, letting out an angry huff.
 
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Hudson grunted when she rolled off him, a pointy elbow or knee giving him one last spiteful jab. He didn’t think she’d done it deliberately, but then again, she was looking at him like she wanted to kick his ass, man. He should’ve figured only a certified crazy person would date that oily snake bastard.

Talking of oily snake bastards, the two dudes weren’t here to send her back to the funny farm, but play some fuckin’ game with ‘em. What the hell, man!?

Hudson watched bug-eyed as the tiny key hit the floor, its delicate clink answered by the brutal slam of the door. Oh, man. He was locked in this room with the crazy Eiffel Tower bitch again. But that wasn't the worst fuckin’ part. No way, man. Hudson recognized the game they were meant to play.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck,” he sobbed under his breath, sweat stinging his eyes and forcing him to squeeze ‘em shut. “Don’t touch that key, miss! They want you to think it’ll open the cuffs, but it’s a trap! It’ll set off a bomb or somethang! I saw it in a movie. This dude had to cut off his own foot.”

What the hell was the name of that movie? It’d had a buncha sequels, each more badass than the last. They’d been remakes of movies shot in the last century. Man, somebody needed to remake this old-fashioned bitch - but skip out the crazy.

Hudson snatched up the key, then proceeded to drag her over to the bathroom. He was gonna flush it down the shitter before it could hurt either one of ‘em.
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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Huffing, she eyed the key. “Well,” she irritably remarked to Hudson, who was sobbing to himself. “Nothin’ to do now but-“

She stopped, staring at him. If he kept on like this, he’d lose more than a foot. Clara nearly shouted this at him, but assumed it’d only make him more upset. He clearly needed to lay off the movies and…get help or something.

“Don’t you think you’re a tad overreactin’?” Her eyes widened as he suddenly grabbed the key, once again dragging her around. Right, enough was enough.

“Hudson! We need that key if we’re ever gonna get out of here. Now, STOP ACTING LIKE A COMPLETE IDIOT AND JUST USE YOUR HEAD FOR A MINUTE!” Her voice was almost at screaming pitch, but not enough that it was shrill. Honestly, kids were a lot less trouble than this. She managed to scramble to him and wrap her hands around the one that was holding the key.
 
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He stumbled into the bathroom, where he raised the key high, ready to hurl it into the open mouth of the shitter. Luckily, there were no nasty surprises bobbing around on the surface of the clean water… Or how clean it could get in a toilet, man.

Before he could throw the key, the crazy Eiffel Tower bitch smothered his hand with her two lil’ ones. He grunted out in surprise and irritation. What the fuck, man? She hadn’t listened to him. It was a fuckin’ trap. If they used those keys on the cuffs, somethang terrible was gonna happen… They’d get an electric shock or a bomb hidden under the bed would go off or those giant motherfuckin’ bugs from that stinkin’ rock would burst out the walls and eat their brains.

“Back off, miss!” he protested, his voice bouncing against the ceramic tiles.

He had to get the crazy frog bitch off him. But how, man? He wasn’t gonna just throw her on the hard floor like a fuckin’ wife beating dirtbag. What about that bigass double bed in the other room? That’d cushion her fall.

Hudson tried to back towards the door in the cramped space, but his forearm hit and snapped a dainty silver faucet off the sink. Water started to fountain out the truncated neck, shootin’ straight at ‘em… Oh, man…
 
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Clara Oswin Oswald

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He was mental, she was sure of that by now. “Not until you gimme that key!” Clara demanded, her own voice bouncing around the room with his. She was gonna have a headache after all of this. She held onto him, her knuckles turning white as she fought for the key. She didn’t want to actually hurt him, but how else would he give it up?

“Hey-“ Clara protested as he now tried to go back to the bedroom, but watched silently in horror as he banged into the sink, the top of it snapping off. The brunette let out a yell as the water blasted them both; luckily it wasn’t scolding hot. Less luckily, it was freezing instead.

“See what you’ve done? Why couldn’t ya just listen to me?” She shouted over the gushing of the water. “We’ve gotta stop it—” She clambered up, but slipped on the wet tiles, falling backwards towards Hudson. The chain of the handcuffs caught on the sharp edge of the counter, snapping the clearly cheap metal in half.
 
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