A/N: Hmm, I apologise for the wait, I have once again done something stupid and ruined my fingers and so could not type quickly enough (If you must know I put my hand through a glass, suffered sever lacerations and damaged the knuckle of my index finger). But I am returned again and I have decided that I may not get rid of this fic - I have already thought up an ending for it and I warn you, there may be sequels so stop me quickly if it is so ghastly that you cannot bare to continue (I won't be offended, I shall think of it more as you saving me from myself as a good friend should) (Bloody hell, how come I can't right this much this quickly when it comes to updating fics? It's taken me about a minute and 30 seconds to write all this lol).

So I apologise for the delay - the next chapter of Rabbithole.

And in case you cannot remember, when we left him, Seifer was falling face first towards an electrified flooring pannel.

Enjoy :D (Please).

The floor, he decided was warm. And extremely uncomfortable. And it was now covered in his blood. As though the first blood-letting hadn't been enough, he was now suffering a nose bleed. Of course it was fairly expected after having hit the ground face first from a sensible height of six feet, but that didn't mean he couldn't complain about it. Hyne, he wasn't sure what he must have looked like, but he was fairly sure it wasn't pretty. There. He said it. He wasn't pretty. Now to hell with all those who called him vain. Vanity had nothing to do with it, it was merely a healthy self-preservation instinct that entitled he cleaned his hair, combed his teeth and brushed his face. No wait, scratch that. He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

He looked down the corridor to the door at the end of the hallway. It couldn't have been more than 30 meters away at most, but he wasn't so sure how much of those thirty meters was safe. Knowing his luck, not much of it. Oh well. It wasn't so far to the end and after that, he was fairly sure that it would be a breeze. After all, he was trained by SeeD and had fought alongside the sorceresses – admittedly not by much choice of his own – and he prided himself on making even the most menial of tasks seem mammoth. No wait. Argh, fuck it.

He dragged himself to his feet. "Onwards…" He muttered to himself as he cast a glance at the corridor's first trap. It was a fine indication of the things that were to come and would have given him a little more course for distress had he been the type to stress over things. He mused as he continued his careful edging along the corridor, that this might have been the type of situation he was supposed to stress over, but so far he had not encountered anything… dramatic, merely sneaky.

The next trap he found was little over 3 meters from the first one, which was around 27 meters from the door and if he had gone 8 meters, encountered 2 traps and still had what he reckoned must have been close to 140 more meters left to go, he was going to find a lot more traps before he met the end. It was almost more than his freedom was worth…

This particular trap looked like nothing more than a gap running up the walls and across the ceiling and the floor. However, further analysis with the help of a zip off his cargos revealed that there was in fact a concealed guillotine in the ceiling and – had he stepped naively into the gap himself – it was perfectly capable of slicing right through him. The zipper tag hadn't stood a chance.

Seifer frowned at the cut off end of his zipper and twisted his lips to one side. So far, the Game was failing to impress and he was gaining confidence in himself and his ingenuity. Perhaps all the other Players had been idiots? Yes he had survived one trap and was determined to survive this one too, but both of them could certainly kill a man if he were stupid enough to wander into them. Although if you were stupid enough to walk into such obvious traps, you were clearly the village idiot and therefore it was highly unlikely that he was to find any real 'problems' on this level.

He watched as the guillotine rose slowly back towards the ceiling, reflecting his feet, legs, tummy, chest and finally his head as it disappeared through the gap. Feeling faintly irritated at the sight of the blade rising slowly back the way it had come – almost as if the designers were mocking him with their showcasing of the weapon – he stuck the rest of the zip into the gap and stepped calmly over the blade when it whizzed passed. It would take more than that to kill Seifer Almasy.

"Pansies." He muttered as he tottered carefully down the corridor again. It took him around half an hour – he guessed – to get to his next obstacle; something.

At first he almost didn't see it, but the light glanced across it just right and for a second, it almost looked like there was wire strung across the hallway. Seifer stopped walking. Wires were a common defence tactic in government houses and vaults or anywhere else you wouldn't want someone to get into. And one wire usually meant a couple of hundred others not too far away. Seifer rolled his eyes, Garden had certainly covered this in the training sequences, in fact he thought Trepe had personally lectured him on correct ambush procedure. Personally his first inclinations when ambushed were to duck, run for cover, then lose his temper with the nearest unfortunate idiot, but apparently these things had to have procedures. It was at times like these – although admittedly he couldn't think of any other particular times – that he was glad Trepe's voice had always stuck in his head.

"First; visually assess the situation" Ok, so he had a deceptively plain looking hallway with what appeared to be a wire at eyelevel strung across it. Were there others? He went to kneel and check from a different angle, but his foot met with slight resistance and upon peering over his shoulder, he found there were indeed others and one them was currently cutting a path through the sole of his boot. He dragged his foot back and frowned. This was a trap he might have a little more trouble with.

"Second; physically assess the situation." This of course meant throwing a rock or poking the ambusher with a stick. Not terribly effective if your ambush came in the form of 20 armed men hefting around AK-47s like they were some sort of toy, but in the event that your ambush was a mine field or a Bandasnatch or – heaven help you – a wire, poking it with a barge pole was a relatively smart thing to do. However, this brought to light a small problem, he had neither a rock, stick, nor a barge pole with which to poke this potential ambusher. So instead, he pulled the remains of his t-shirt out of his pocket and poked the end of it into the air in front of him. The novelty of this action was not lost on Seifer and – had the severity of the situation not made for quite a sombre atmosphere – he could almost call it amusing. He was sure he must have looked like a first class plonker to the people watching the cameras, but he wasn't going to let his pride get him killed; he had a reputation to uphold after all!

The shirt end meeting no resistance, he shuffled forwards a little bit and waved the it again, up and down and side to side. Again it met nothing, so he moved forward again and almost immediately shaved the end of his rag off with a downwards sweep. Holy Hyne, this was going to be a very long few meters of hallway.

"The final stage is to make sure that- ALMASY PUT THAT FUCKING THING DOWN!" Well, maybe he wasn't so glad that Trepe's voice had stuck in his head when she could scream at him without even needing to be there, but at least she had gotten him passed another obstacle. His legs, arms and also his neck had suffered at the merciless hands of the wires – or whatever the fucking things were – and he felt sore from having to bend himself into all sorts of shapes just to struggle passed the infinite death traps in his path. He had never really considered becoming a contortionist, but now it appeared he was actually quite good at it, although the multitude of bleeding cuts all over his body might have suggested otherwise.

He rubbed at the cut over his collarbone and grumbled. That one had hurt, the wire cutting off a sliver of skin as he tried to shimmy between two horizontally strung wires. It was fair to say a lot of cussing and swearing had filled the otherwise silent corridor and more than a few middle fingered salutes had been thrown in the direction of, well, everywhere. This might have only been a Game, but he just wasn't the type to Play nicely. It was rude and cantankerous, or nothing at all.

The 20 meters or so of wired corridor now behind him, Seifer turned to the rest of the space. There wasn't really all that much left to go, only another 100 meters, and at the rate he was travelling at, it would only take him another 12 hours to get there. Oh what joys that could be derived from dancing like a puppet to someone else's tune.

Sighing, Seifer scratched at the back of his head as he surveyed the remainder of the corridor. As far as he could tell there was nothing there, but then again there had been very little to indicate the previous traps either. He was beginning to bore with the idea of a long corridor with a trap concealed every few meters, but he supposed it made it easier to kill the Players if there were no corners to hide behind or any indications that death was about to bite them on the bum.

It looked as though there was very little left for him to do except continue to Play the Game. There was no denying – he thought as he continued to walk – that his heart was beating like a drum inside his chest and his palms had been sweating since the handcuffs had been taken off in the first room and he really didn't want to wander into something that was specifically designed to snuff him out, but he had also always enjoyed the thrill of the unknown and the adrenaline that would rush passed him in difficult situations and there was also no denying the fact that he was looking forward – in a morbid sort of way – to the next obstacle and his impending doom. It was almost the same as the training sequences he went through in Balamb, back before he got himself banged up in the slammer.

The rest of the 7 meters sported nothing more challenging than some ball bearing's rolling across the floor and he nursed a ball bearing shaped hurt on his bottom as he reached the end of the corridor. This was a joke. It had to be a joke. There was no way that this was seriously the first level right? Aside from the tunnel in his shoulder and hip, the fingernails he was now missing, the bruises on his bottom, the scratches and his bloody nose – alright granted that was quite the list of injuries – the Game had proven to be no more challenging than getting into Rinoa's underwear. He wouldn't like to do it again and it felt more like he was playing with children than anything else. It was pathetic. And he was certainly not in the mood for the door to be bricked up, but as sod's law would have it, the bloody thing was.

For a second, he could only stare at the red bricks that faced him. He closed his eyes when one began to twitch and held his breath in an effort to control his temper. The relatively good humour he had been in when he entered the corridor was disappearing quicker than a girls underwear on prom night.

"Fucking brilliant!" He hissed, whirling round and yelling at the rest of the hallway, "Fucking brilliant! I really hope your laughing up there you colossal pricks! Cause this is abso-fucking-lutely hilarious isn't it! Fuck you!"

He turned round again and kicked the brick work, kicking it as hard as he could as thought it was its fault he couldn't get through. "Fucking Game! It's not even that much fun! I'll show you fun! Pricks! Cocksuckers! Motherfucking arseholes! Fucking arghhhh-!"

It was only when he had worn himself out, shouting at and kicking the bricks that he paused, turning and leaning his shoulder on it and looking up as sweat trickled down his neck. It was a workout he didn't need and a stupid idea to wear himself out. Then, an idea hit him. What he was looking at right now, staring up at the ceiling and wiping the sweat from his eyes, was the ventilation system. He blinked a couple of times. Was this the way forwards? Was this... an escape?

Next time on... You know what, I can't be bothered. I'm sure you can pretty much work out what the heck he's going to do. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to work out where this fic is headed. I try to make it more interesting and hard to work out but it never seems to work... Sniff sniff.

R&R :)

-Okami