Jack sat at the long table. There had been no way to avoid it. After all he and the group had been through, this was the termination point. His pride at having led the group successfully to an abandoned apartment haven had been palpable. Although the residence lacked an outer wall, it featured multiple rooms and baths, ample enough to host the sixy-odd group he'd been heading. More importantly, it offered multiple vantage points overlooking the maze of a metropolis they'd just traversed, which would, in theory, allow for an easily defensible position.
However, just as soon as they'd arrived, their pursuers appeared, and Jack had known there was no way out. At his urging, the group submitted to an examination of their paperwork, even though Jack know he was missing a key document. Jack had not been willing to risk a fight - although the group would loyally defend him, Jack was the only one in real danger of being arrested. Everyone else had their papers in order.
Jack reflected about this as he sat at the long table for a second time. After that first arrest, he had been taken to the same table, and over the course of the proceedings had been sentenced to mortal combat in the desert. He had lost the match, been made to traverse the thousands of miles back to the table, and thrown into the bottomless box.
His head reeled as he remembered that moment - to be thrown into the box meant death, either now or much later. Each victim got to choose the depth and locale of the box, and Jack had opted for a near infinite plummet through a golden sky, well-lit and full of clouds, with spinning gilded rings interspersed at various altitudes and a sandy bottom upon which he would meet instantaneous death, in the unlikely event dehydration or exposure wouldn't kill him first. However, as he fell and fell, a sense of messianic purpose compelled him to maneuver himself towards an elevator shaft attached perpendicularly to the ring system, and against all odds he had successfully entered a small elevator car. Thus, Jack had ridden back up and out of the box, an unheard of achievement, though Jack felt no pride in it - it had not been his doing.
And so, events had played out a second time, in much the same fashion. So, once again, he sat at the table, arguing with the characters.
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Petunia felt she should be colder - her fall into the box had been a short drop into frigid, Atlantic waters, complete with bobbing chunks of ice. However, she had yet to feel much pain or strife about the matter. There was another older man in the water, and that had done much to lift her spirits. He had been there much longer.
There was an illusion of space in the box - it seemed as if the dark, cold ocean expanded infinitely in all directions, but she knew there was a invisible wall they could not cross, confining them to a space roughly 100 feet square.
Just then, another man plopped into the ocean - another condemned soul! After splashing into the cold ocean, he got his bearings and turned to Petunia.
"Want a drink?" he asked, forcing some cheer.
"Sure!" she replied, even though she knew it was mostly make believe. She swam over to the bobbing ice bar and pretended to grab a glass. This won't be so horrible, she thought. Maybe I should've gone with the jungle locale. Though, then I'd need to figure out food and stuff. And, I would've needed to figure out how to dig a latrine, so the waste flows out beyond the barrier, rather than into my food supply.
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"Now listen," said Jack, leaning in towards the table, "there's really only a two options. You kill me, throw me in the box, or you kill ______." He gestured towards the young, slightly overweight young man in front of him. The young man was his companion, and it pained Jack to say such things, but he was mostly confident of the directions things were going, and no harm would come to the man.
"It absolutely does not make sense to kill _______ and ________," continued Jack. The logic was so obvious to him; he knew it would not take long for the tall despot to make his decision.
The discussion continued for a time as Jack and the three others bounced ideas around. To his right, within arm's reach, sat the bottomless box. Jack glanced at it every now and then, worried about his sister.
Finally, there was a pause, and the tall despot announced, "Alright, I will make my decision."
He crossed his fingers in thought. Nearly a minute went by, and although Jack knew what the man's decision would be, a selfish part of him hoped for a different outcome. Finally, the despot raised his head solemnly.
"I will kill….Jack."
Jack nodded grimly. He was to face the same path as before, mortal combat with the tall despot, the trek, then the bottomless box. Only this time, he would not lose the match.
The meeting adjourned. Jack walked up to the despot, a confusing melange of emotions stirring within him.
"I hate you, and I love you," Jack said slowly, embracing the tall dictator, "…and I will kill you."
The tall dictator laughed sharply, but with good cheer. "Ha! Good schtick."
Jack walked slowly away from the tall man. The despot made some combative maneuvers silently behind Jack, an attempt at intimidation, but Jack only smiled without turning his head. He knew the despot was there. Jack was confident, and so, the tall despot stood no chance.
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Although no scene had indicated as such, Jack had won the match and was back at the table. He opened the bottomless box.
"Petunia! Petunia, are you there?!" he yelled into the black arctic ocean below.
"I'm here," came a weak voice.
"Hold on, I'm sending down a rope." Jack lowered the rope down into the box. He knew from her voice that he had nearly been too late. Her body, now that of a large whale, was nearly frozen. He fished out the other two whale bodies, those of her erstwhile companions, but they were clearly dead, their bodies hard, translucent, and bereft of heads.
Jack and his team weren't sure if they should set Petunia in a tank of warm water or let the air rejuvenate her. No matter - either way, she would soon recover, and Jack was full of joy.
