TRAUMA PROM

[takewing]

Comments

[unlocksmith]

[SPARK, ON THE OTHER HAND, ISN'T SURPRISED]

. . . but what kinda stuff does she even want?

[takewing]

Whatever it is, she's not getting it!

[Ow, ow, that wall is hard. Hits it again, as hard as she can.]

[unlocksmith]

Easy now. Brute strength isn't capable of powerin' through everythin'.

[pressing both hands against the dome, sliding his palms across it, trying to find a weak point]

[takewing]

We have to at least try!

[No dents, to scratches, no nothing. The entire dome is smooth, completely impenetrable.]

[unlocksmith]

[tch]

[reaching for his waist-- and letting out a curse when he realizes his knife is missing]

Did I say we didn't? Your knuckles are bruised, aren't they? Don't break 'em, let me try something a little less forceful.

[glancing around, and spotting the knife on the ground. he scoops it up and runs the blade against the glass. DOES IT DAMAGE IT?]

[infiniteregress]

[N O P E]

[takewing]

A few broken knuckles is nothing compared to what might happen if we don't hurry.

[. . . But even she can accept that punching her way out isn't going to work. Scowls, pacing the perimeter. There has to be something . . .]

[Something other than the bottle of poison she just picked up.]

[unlocksmith]

[curses again and steps back, frowning at the glass as he twirls the knife in his hand]

We aren't gonna die.

[said simply, as though it was the undisputed truth]

[takewing]

Nobody is going to.

[Staring at the bottle, seriously contemplating smashing it on the floor.]

[unlocksmith]

[turns to face her, not saying anything as he watches her contemplate the bottle]

. . . I don't know about that, Nalea.

[takewing]

There are at least sixty people here, if not more. Thirty pairs. If only half of the offers are accepted, that means a minimum of fifteen people could be murdered. [Speaking quickly, gaze fixed on the poison.]

I won't let that happen.

[unlocksmith]

[. . . she had always been idealistic and determined. he admired it in her. but. . .]

What do you propose we do about it then?

[takewing]

Get out of here and stop her!

[And with that, she throws the vial down, shattering the delicate glass.]

[unlocksmith]

Great. There's only one problem: we're stuck on the get out of here part.

[lowering the knife, sticking it into his belt on instinct]

[takewing]

There was a way in. That means there has to be a way out.

[checking the floor and ceiling, come on, come on, there has to be something . . . !]

[unlocksmith]

Nalea. . .

[takewing]

What?

[Sharp, but distracted.]

[unlocksmith]

[if she could transport them here, if she could lock them in this dome, then she could make it so they couldn't escape.]

Some people are going to die today. I'd rather it not be us.

[takewing]

[. . . Sttttops.]

[unlocksmith]

Think about it. She took us from our homes, brought us here, and trapped us in a tiny, glass cage. I dunno who this lady is, but if she doesn't want there to be any exits, then there won't be any.

And that narrows our actions significantly.

[raps his knuckles against the glass walls with a frown]

[takewing]

I stand by what I said before. [Clenches her fists by her sides, ignoring the way her bruise knuckles ache and smart.] I refuse.

She can have my life if she wants it so badly, but I'll not keep anybody else from surviving.

[unlocksmith]

[his voice drops, unusually cold and sharp]

She will have to go through me to get to it.

[takewing]

[. . . and for a moment, she can't help but think: getting rid of that poison was a bad idea. her gaze drops briefly but tellingly to the knife in his belt.]

[unlocksmith]

[SUDDENLY HE IS GLAD HE PICKED UP THE KNIFE]

Your life is worth no less than someone else's. What can you do to stop her-- to make her pay for the crimes she's committed-- if you're dead, Nalea?

[takewing]

[JERK. Glances at the glass-ridden puddle on the floor next . . .]

This has nothing to do with worth.