TRAUMA PROM

[takewing]

Comments

[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.

[unlocksmith]

No, it's about you makin' a rash decision to give up your life because you think survivin' means you'll have killed someone else.

[taking a step forward, keeping his gaze trained on her]

Or it's about refusin' to go along with her wishes because you think by defyin' her, you'll hold onto your principles and show her that she holds no power over you.

Let me tell you, Nalea, types like her. . . she does't give a shit whether you play along with her or not. She'll kill you and move on without givin' a second thought. And if you survive, and someone else dies, she will be the one to have murdered them, not you.

Her actions are hers alone, not yours.

[takewing]

If somebody else dies in place, when I had the opportunity to do something to prevent it—then the blood is on my hands just as much as hers.

[Stands her ground when he moves, defiance in every line of her body.]