Oliver inhales deeply as he attempts to gather himself and determine what transpired. "Well, since everyone has left and I'm the only one here, I guess I must have overslept," he adds, seeming doubtful of his statement. Oliver pauses to think before reaching for his left hand and pulling back his sleeve to expose a digital watch with a grey band around his wrist that is square in shape and blue and green. When he presses the centre of his watch, a gentle blue glow appears on the screen, signalling the device to switch on.
Oliver turns on the watch and starts to swipe and tap it till he gets to a screen with numerous graph bars of various types. Each bar has a certain tint, but the one Oliver focuses on is a purple bar with a blinking red alert that depicts the number 65%. "Shit, they must have used some kind of sleeping gas on us; this number is supposed to be 30%, not 65%, fuck," Oliver yells, annoyed and frustrated in his voice.
Ollie rises up from his bus seat, but as soon as he does, he feels sick. He staggers and covers his mouth, fighting the strong impulse to vomit, saying, "Ugh they must of ugh overdone it with the sleeping gas."
When the urge to throw up finally subsides, he gets his bag and walks to the bus door to exit, but he looks in the corner of his eye and sees something, or someone, wearing a light purple cloak with the hood hiding their head.
The figure remains motionless, seemingly unconscious, as it lies on a seat. Oliver asks, "Hey you, you awake?" as he approaches the cloaked figure, still fighting the urge to throw up. Oliver moves cautiously and slowly in their direction, but as he concentrates on the obviously helpless figure, something long and fluffy envelops his hands, binding them together in an instant with a grasp more tightly than a varlet serpent.
Oliver screams, "What the hell?" while attempting to pry his hands from the shackling material, as the figure dressed in purple rises from the chair. Now that they're looking directly at Oliver, their voice becomes high-pitched and a little raspy. Oliver's wrists began to bruise as more and more fabric was wrapped around them, making him wince in agony. "Who are you?" The figure's high-pitched, raspy voice matches their icy, cold tone of exclamation.
The constraining cloth is getting tighter as he begs, "I-I-I'm a new student AH could you please let me go. "The fabric starts to release Oliver's grasp and retracts into the hooded girl's cloak like a snake as she gives him a chilly, iciest look. "Oh, you're a first-year," she cries, sounding almost disappointed. "Ah goddammit, the hell's wrong with you!" Oliver puts on his backpack and grabs his luggage firmly as he eventually gets off this bus of nightmares, leaving the shrouded figure there by herself. Alone