OJ awoke in a dark room, duct tape covering his mouth, his hands and feet tied together, and a painful headache. He heard what seemed to be... construction? coming from a different room.

Where am I? How did I get here?

After a while of trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, OJ spotted a screwdriver on a shelf. He seemed to be in some form of closet. He did his best to wiggle around in the small space, and managed to stand up on two wobbly, tied together, unstable feet. He couldn't grab it, however - his hands were behind his back, his mouth was covered, and it was too high up.

Maybe I can knock it down somehow...

He knocked his glass into the shelf, watching the screwdriver inch closer to the edge, when suddenly the faint noises stopped. He fell silent, only now realizing how incredibly painful his attempt had made his headache, as he heard steps start to approach the closet.

A messy glass vial filled with a mysterious green fluid opened the door.

Test Tube!

"Test Tube, thank goodness, get me out of here!" he tried to say, but it came out muffled by the tape. She ripped it off, allowing him to repeat himself.

"Hm... amnesia... interesting side-effect..." she noted, before raising her voice, which was oddly cold. "I'm the one who put you here, OJ." Hearing her felt like reading a book; like she had made up her mind and her words were set in stone.

"...Why?!" he exclaimed.

"Because..." Test Tube choked, holding back tears. "You wouldn't get it."

She knocked OJ back down, causing him to land on the ground with a horrifying CRACK as the injury in his glass worsened. He was usually good at remaining calm, but this time it really felt like life or death, like he'd never get out of that lab ever again. OJ's brain yelled at him to run, get out of there, as fast as he could, before Test Tube had a chance to even think. But she wouldn't hurt him that badly on purpose, would she? His breathing seemed to speed up, causing Test Tube to cover his mouth again. She heard a muffled shriek as she closed the door to the closet.

I need to calm him down, she thought as she rushed to her cabinet full of vials. Her hands trembled as she grabbed a blue-tinted substance and frantically ran back. Test Tube filled a syringe with it and threw the door open, shoving it into OJ's arm and injecting it. Within moments, the muffled screaming faded, and OJ seemed to slip into a drowsy state, his eyes half-open.

She chuckled to herself at the absurdity of it all. Here she was, mad scientist Test Tube, drugging OJ and building a magical machine to cope with the death of her friends.

She sat there, on her knees, next to a sleeping OJ for the next few minutes, before wiping her tears away and dragging him into the room where she was constructing her makeshift recovery center. Spilled fluids, blood and orange juice from OJ were smeared in the hallway as she hauled him forward.

Eventually, she reached the room where she had chosen to place the machine.

A giant, grand box made of welded together pieces of metal. In the middle, a door to the small room inside where the contestants would return. A computer had been set up beside it for typing in the names of the deceased.

And, of course, the feature that made it work in the first place: a funnel at the top, with a ladder in the back so that she could reach it.

Test Tube realized pretty early on in her planning that even she couldn't pull life out of thin air. The shards of Lightbulb weren't enough; too many of them had been lost in the crash, and thus she would only come out ruined if she tried it with just those. She needed to find an already living being made out of the same material that her dear friend was, and OJ had walked right into her lab at the perfect moment.

Speaking of OJ, he was starting to wake up.

Test Tube set him down in a corner of the room, knowing that he would be in that drugged state for a couple more hours, buying her enough time to mostly finish the machine. She watched as he peacefully slept, unaware, free from mourning for just a few moments before he would wake up again.

She took a deep breath and put on her welding mask, getting back to work.

Test Tube put down her blowtorch and tossed her welding mask aside as she heard a groan come from OJ. She turned around to watch him slowly wake up, and only made her presence known once she saw the frightened look in his eyes as he spotted the smear of blood and juice trailing to where he was sitting. Test Tube debated putting him to sleep again but decided to give him a smaller dose instead to just make him stop squirming. It was kind of nice having some sort of company, especially since...

She injected more of the substance into OJ's arm and watched as his movements began to slow. Once she was sure that he wouldn't try anything, Test Tube ripped off the tape again, allowing him to speak.

"I gave you some painkillers", she calmly explained as she walked back to the machine, inspecting what she had been welding earlier.

"Where... where is everyone?" OJ spoke in a weak voice, slurring his words. He seemed to be half-awake, his eyes pointed blankly forward, his body unmoving. Test Tube let a hint of concern show in her expression, little pricks of guilt stabbing her like a swarm of mosquitos. "The hotel is so... empty... and metallic..." he slowly said after a while.

"You're not in the hotel anymore, OJ", Test Tube explained. She sat down by the computer and began to fiddle with a nearby pen. "You're in my lab... and you're probably gonna be here for a while."

Telling the truth would hurt too much.

"Okay", he blankly responded, his eyes starting to close. Boy, he's gonna have some wild dreams, Test Tube thought and chuckled a little to herself. Her smile faded once she realized that that was probably going to be the last time she laughed for a few months.

Test Tube watched OJ sleep, trying to come up with something, anything to make her stop herself from doing what she was about to do. She didn't have to drag him into her issues just because she couldn't accept something! She fought with herself in her mind for a while.

No, no, no. This was going to bring Lightbulb back: she was sure of it.

It's what OJ would've wanted.

He's sleeping... he won't feel a thing... just do it before you think about it too much.

Test Tube's hands shook from adrenaline as she grabbed the closest blunt object - a hammer - and stood up. Her legs wobbled out of anxiety, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. It would just be more painful for OJ if the first blow wasn't fatal.

Do it for science.

She took a step closer.

Do it for Lightbulb.

She held the weapon above her head.

Do it for Fan.

Her heart raced.

CRASH.

[word count: 1211]