Chara twists their head to look inside, squinting in the darkness. It's less full than they'd thought. (Of course the prisoners would've taken away anything useful.)

Maybe they didn't get everything. Maybe there's some teeny pocket knife hidden under everything else. Maybe there's a big pocket knife. Maybe pigs will have wings and pie'll fall from the sky. Chara reaches inside the bag.

It's a little like reaching the top of a staircase and expecting an extra stair. Chara's eyes fly open, and they try to see into the backpack again. Masks? And hats? And--a bow? They press the shield back down as though to hide the lot, eyes wide. Chara doesn't know how to use a bow. There'd been a bottle. Maybe they could break it and use the pieces like knives? They could do this. Maybe they're not trapped in hell.

Or maybe they are, because having a knife didn't save them the first time. They need a rocket launcher, or maybe a chainsaw, and it really didn't look like this backpack has those.

Still dead weight. It's too painful to let hope go completely. Chara swallows, looking around again. (As if looking so guilty would fool anyone.) There's a few masks close to the surface, and Chara slips three of them out, dimly hoping for a miracle. Maybe they could sell D-E-L the bag??

Three ugly masks. They're both doomed.