It was all Alexander's fault.

He had sent London back. He had him locked away. Again. The same old excuses and promises were made by his brother as he walked away without a second glance, turning deaf at the screams and pleas. It was a vicious cycle that would eventually end up killing London if he didn't fight back.

His brother claimed to care and maybe he did, however the same couldn't be said for those here. As far as London was concerned, Alexander was the reason he was beaten senseless by the staff or patients more times than he would admit and then locked in a closet or in solitary confinement with his wounds for hours and even days but there was no telling his brother.

Now darkness surrounded him once more. Not even a sliver of light shines through the bottom of the door, as it seems someone had stuffed blankets tightly underneath the door, all to ensure that the inside of the closet would be pitch black. London huddled in the corner of the small, dusty space. By now, his eyesight had long since adjusted to the lack of light, and it now hurt to even swallow because his mouth was so dry. He lost track of how long exactly he had been trapped in this closet, it could have been minutes, hours, or even days. The sound of footsteps occasionally wandering throughout aimlessly is all that breaks the silence. London had tried his best to break out of the closet, but nothing seemed to work. It only took a few hours to realize that for all his phenomenal smarts, London still couldn't find a way out of this hell.

Something had to be done before the neglect, darkness, and isolation drove him completely mad.

Knowing that the only way he could get out of here is if they decided to open the damn door, London decided to pass the time the only way he could. Taking a deep breath, he held out his arm and pressed his nails against it, dragging them slowly down his skin until he began to bleed.
After being locked in with nothing but boredom and misery to keep him company, at least this was a change of pace. London's heart began to pound and he grunted in pain as his fingernails dug deeper and deeper into his skin, spilling warm, wet blood all over his fingers and arm. The droplets dripping onto the floor, and the tangy, metallic smell quickly filled the tiny space as London brought his arm up to his face, attempting to see what he had been driven to.

It was hard to make out anything but a blurry silhouette of his arm, but he could just see the torn skin.. Self-mutilation isn't something entirely new to him, and right now there was no-one to take his anger and hopelessness out on, so it was really the only thing he could do. With a sigh, pulling his knees to his chest, he slumped back against the wall, turning his attention back to the pieces of torn skin on his arm, hissing and wincing as each breath sent a burning jolt of pain from head to toe.

London closed his eyes when suddenly a sound from the outside told him he was no longer alone. Taking a deep breath he silently waited. The lock on the door started to rattle, a voice quietly let forth a few choice words but soon as they and the rattling of the locked started they stopped. London's heart was beating out of control, threatening to rip itself clear out of his chest. Several tense moments passed before the sound of a breaking lock could be heard and the gates of hell had finally been opened. 

"Holy shit, kid. Look at you. You're still alive. I'm impressed."

That voice sounded familiar but surely it couldn't belong to him. Lifting his head from his knees, he slowly opened his eyes, hoping he wasn't imagining what was suddenly happening. 

"Elliot?"

A chuckle echoed through London's head as a hand reached into the closet and unwrapped his right arm from his knees. A sharp intake of breath followed.

"I take back my previous statement..."

Elliot moved to London's left arm and another intake of breath was heard.

"What the fuck have you done?"

London, whose eyesight was slowly adjusting, looked up at Elliot and noticed not only did he have London's blood on him but there was someone else's. He almost dreaded asking him the next question.

"How did you find me?"

Elliot pocketed a set of keys before outstretching his right hand for London to take a hold of. London reached up and was none too gently pulled from his "prison" and stood up against a wall. His body screaming at the movement but he went with it, leaning heavily against the wall while Elliot pinned him firmly against the wall with one arm while he looked at his injuries, those self-inflicted and those not. 

"Never mind how I found you. Who and what put you..."

He pointed at the closet and kicked the door closed.

"In there this time?!"

Ever since arriving here, Elliot had seemingly taken to London and became his protector from the moment he had locked eyes on him. He took it upon himself to be at London's side at all times and if he couldn't be, he'd find a way and wouldn't let anyone  or anything stop him. His behavior boarded on obsessive and even possessive but London really didn't mind because more often than not it kept him safe. London was the "freak", the "High Functioning Sociopath" who through his mind and brain of a scientist or philosopher, had him cursed with hyper aware observation skills which gave him the unique ability of seeing everything, regardless of how big or small the detail and it lead him to brutally, without even a care, to deduce everyone and anyone. Nothing was safe from him and that scared people, including himself. Seeing and feeling everything is what drove him to his self destructive behavior. Whereas Elliot was just a monster. A psychopath who would and did kill just because people existed in the same world he did but there was something else, something London had long deduced even before he found himself in this twisted and unhealthy partnership.

Elliot had lost someone and it had pushed him completely over the edge. 

"My violin went missing. I asked around and after a process of elimination, I was able to deduce who was responsible. I confronted them and I gave them a chance to return it. When my offer wasn't accepted, things escalated and I very quickly...

London lowered his head to the ground, refusing to meet Elliot's gaze which was burning through him.

"Found myself being a witness to the destruction of my violin. It was broken, Elliot. It was broken over my head. I couldn't let them get away with it, so once I regained my bearings, I fought back. However what began as one on one did not end the same way."

The grip Elliot had on London, disappeared, and a fist was slammed into the wall beside him. London, who lifted his head after his confession, barely moved his head out of the way in time. He could feel the anger now pouring from Elliot. 

"So I'm not the only one responsible for the newest additions to the infirmary. Good. Is the violin fixable in any way?"

London let out a breath and shook his head in the negative.

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. We're getting out of here and you're getting a brand new violin. I know..."

Elliot was suddenly interrupted by several voices yelling out his and London's name. London looked in the direction the voices were coming from and quickly calculated how much longer they had until they were found. The odds were not in their favor. Elliot smiled in the same direction London was studying.

"Ah, it appears we have company. Now we can stay and have a little more fun before we go and take out as many as we can. Or we can simply run and never look back. Fight or flight? What's it going to be, Holmes?"

The answer was simple.

"Fight. This entire thing has been quite the inconvenience. An inconvenience which I certainly intend to fix. All I was doing was trying to get my own property back. And if I had a conscience, it would prevent me from retaliating in a extremely violent way. Lucky for me, I have no such burden of a conscience and neither do you. Let's do this."

Elliot laughed and called out to their soon to be attackers. No. Victims. 

“Come on. Come to daddy.”

London rolled his eyes and readied himself. Judging by the footsteps he could hear, there was at least two people coming for them. Regardless of the number, he and Elliot were getting out of here. 

"There you boys are. So are you ready to die?"

Just as London had predicted, there was now two people standing just several steps away from them. London recognized one of them. He had problems with him before. Humiliated and deduced the man to tears.

Elliot shook his head and let out a slight laugh. While London remained silent. Hundreds of scenarios. Thousands of pieces of data assaulting him. His silence not sitting well with the men who had apparently come here to kill them.

"What's the matter, freak?"

Without warning, London struck out, a lightning quick strike that caught his enemy off guard, he quickly countered by landing a few more strikes before putting him in a headlock but the sheer size of him was making it rather difficult to keep locked in and he was overpowered and pushed back into the wall, his head colliding and snapping back with serious force. His attacker let him fall to the floor completely and continued to punch and kick away. Some blows connecting, others missing. Meanwhile Elliot was locked in his own battle. He was suddenly slapped across his face, splitting his lip and making a sharp pain shoot through Elliot. He tasted blood and saw red but stopped his assault, instead choosing to silently stare at his attacker. London, who had momentarily gained an advantage on his own attacker, had him in a choke hold, applying as much pressure and strength as he could. If he wanted to he could very easily end him right now and snap his neck but he wanted him to suffer for everything he had ever said or did to London, so he held on and looked over at Elliot's attacker, who was stunned to a stand still. He knew what was about to happen.

With a predatory smile, London said in a sinister tone.

"You shouldn't have done that."

At that remark, Elliot exploded into a blur of movement. He had slowly reached into his trousers pocket with his left hand while his attacker was distracted by London's words, and before he could even realize it, he stabbed through his attackers thigh not once but twice. He screamed and fell to his knees and Elliot followed him down. Punching in a blind fury.

Playtime was over.

Upon hearing his buddy scream out in pain, London's attacker attempted to break free from the choke hold. With a sudden surge of strength London failed to take into account, he threw himself back into London, knocking him back against the wall but unfortunately for him and very lucky for London not enough to dislodge him. He re-locked one arm under his chin, the other at the top of his head and a sickening crunch was echoed around them while at the same a blood curdling scream was heard and a desperate, gurgled attempt to breathe followed. London looked over at Elliot and noticed his own fight had come to an end. A bloody one. He had not only beaten his attacker but he had also slit his throat. The blood rapidly pooling on the ground and on Elliot.

Elliot rose from his attackers bloodied and lifeless body, not even worried about the blood on him. Instead choosing to wipe off the blood from the switchblade before placing it back in his pocket. He then made his way over to London, who was still slouched against the wall, his own self-inflicted wounds had started to bleed again during his fight and were now dripping down his arms and landing near the broken body near his feet. London looked down in fascination at the sight.

"You know what this means?"

London lifted his head. He glanced behind Elliot at the mess he had left and then another look at the broken body at his feet. He knew exactly what it meant. It was now or never. They had already wasted too much time. They had to leave. 

"The game is afoot."