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"What makes you think he's my friend?"Griffin smiled. "You're not locked in here with us, are you?" He pulled himself up into a sitting positionand dropped down to the floor. "See that door?" he asked, pointing at the small room's only exit. "It'sunbolted now, thanks to you. We could just walk out there, and they'll just put us back in here. That'snot very nice of them, is it?""It wasn't very nice of you to kill Jonathan and Eddie.""Hit him again, Donnie."Donnie Barksdale happily obliged. Jesse yelled as his nose broke."Before they stuck us in here, I did some research on your friends out there," David said. "Why don'tyou ask... Neo... how many people he's killed?""Neo's a good guy," Jesse gasped through the pain.David laughed and gestured towards the door. "Let him go," he told Donnie.**Humans are, for the most part, lovers of convenience. As long as they have a fairly comfortable life andare not in any sort of immediate danger, most would be content to go on living the same way they havebeen living for years.Among movie characters, the population in general is slightly more impulsive and adventure-seeking;even then, many of those in Kenselton Hotel had soon to come to terms with the fact that there was novisible way out. Meanwhile, they had good food from the cafeteria (cooked by standard-issue gourmetchefs who spoke no English and smiled a lot), comfortable beds, lots of company, entertainmentfacilities and no more worries of regular life.It was all like a very long holiday, and one they could do nothing about. Most eventually gave up tryingto find a way out and resigned themselves to getting by one day at a time.True, this also meant a significant lack of purpose in life, but who needs purpose when you can amuseyourself by sticking Kryptonite into (the late) Clark Kent's tea when he's not looking?Besides, there were the tales of those who had tried too hard: a group of intrepid escapees who calledthemselves the X-Men had rallied themselves together (an impressive feat in itself), broke through anexternal wall and ventured out into the dark void beyond. They found nothing, and a particularly bluelookingmember of their party spent his days following that with a look in his eyes more crazed thanbefore, muttering incoherently in accented English about dark places that went on forever.Attempting escape upwards, one simply emerged on the roof of the building with nothing but more of thesame darkness all around.The only thing that held promise of escape were the ones who ran Kenselton Hotel: the receptionists atthe arrival floors, the cooks, the cleaners, and most of all the guards. But all of these, when pressed orinterrogated under torture, claimed knowledge no further than what their jobs entailed; all too werestandardised and gave off distinct robotic vibes.