Claire Novak and Malia Tate What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-"
These were the words bouncing around Claire's skull (and occasionally out of her mouth) ever since she came to with a mouth full of sand and a hermit crab poking at her ear. This was not anywhere on Jody's property- hell, this wasn't even fucking North Dakota. Sure, she'd taken a particularly hard hit from Joe the Krav Maga instructor a minute ago, but it sure as hell hadn't been hard enough to knock her into another damn climate. Confusion and alarm combined in the teenager to form a particularly potent breed of annoyance and anger; her go-to coping mechanisms in response to fear. Not that there was another particularly scary about suddenly being in Hawaii or whatever, but Claire was really goddamn tired of being kidnapped.
That's what it had to be, after all- with that weird-ass note and cell phone that definitely wasn't hers. Test subject? Fuck that noise. After an hour of wandering through dense woods wondering what god-awful bugs were trying to get into her socks, Claire was looking for an ass to kick.
Instead, she found a cabin. Nothing ominous about that. Not at all.
"Hey assholes-!" Claire barked at the door before abruptly yanking it open and barging inside. "I'm not one'a your stupid lab rats, so how'bout you just put me on a plane back to North Dakota, pronto-"
But the one-room cabin was empty, save for neatly rowed beds with neatly placed (and ugly orange) sleeping bags on each one. So there were more people here... Claire stared for a moment before her comfort-level of frustration regained hold. Her jaw set with a huff.
"Fuck-" She about-faced and stormed back out the door, only to freeze in her tracks, locked on the movement she happened to catch right on the edge of the tree-line.