[excuse me, what happened]

[Griffin]

John woke up. His back was aching in pain, as was the rest of his body. He sat up, but quickly laid back down after he noticed the pain in his head. He laid there starring up at the ceiling. He was on the floor of a large hotel room. He looked out the window. It was day. How long had he been asleep? What happened? Had he been shot? Or were thirty small knives been shoved into his body?

John forced himself up. He was in so much pain. He looked around for anything to kill the pain. There. On the table. A small bottle of aspirin. John rushed over to the table and grabbed the bottle of white tablets. He opened the bottle and put a few tablets in his hand. John swallowed the small pills and slowly walked over to the window. The light was blinding. It took a while for his eyes to adjust. After he could see again, he noticed the section of the city was in ruins. Then he noticed someone on the street, fiddling with something on the cracked road. John squinted to get a better view of the man. Who was-

All of a sudden a rushing pain went down his shoulder and through his chest. John stumbled backwards into the wall. He felt under his shirt where the source of pain. There was a small square bandage. The pain was rising. The light was getting brighter. His ears were ringing. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell to the floor.

[Zib]

Zib sighed as he looked down at what was once his shiny road. Now, it was just a cracked screen that smelled like airplane. He stared up at the vehicle that continued to weigh down his panels. There was really no way to move it. He could move things with simple geometric shapes, but this was a plane. Far too complex.

He glanced back down at the broken screen, irritated. Perhaps the pilot had thought the path a colorful runway, but still. . .

Zib turned his gaze to the hotel. He wondered if "Washington" was awake yet. The comatose bullet-wound victim had been asleep since last night and had remained that way well through the afternoon. The sun was halfway to the horizon already. Perhaps now would be a good time to visit his visitor. . .

The door swung open, clattering against the wall rather startlingly. "All right, Sleeping Beauty! Time to get up!" Zib approached the possibly unconscious body on the floor, nudging its head with a shoe. "C'mon. Can't lie around all day, hippie." Outwardly, Zib was being a touch too harsh, but inwardly, his heart was racing with the relief of finding another living human being. He wanted this stranger to wake up already so that the two could talk. It had been ages since Zib had a real conversation with somebody.

[Griffin]

John woke up to a man slapping him on the face. The man had dark brown hair but John's vision was too blurry to fully see what he was wearing.

"Ughh..." John said as he sat up.

He looked at the man again. He was wearing dark clothes. The light from the window was blinding him. He raised his hand above his eyes.

"Where are we, and who are you?" John asked with a coarse voice.