>>5188682>>5188687>>5188691>>5188700>>5188933>>5188939“Stand up, Pierce,” you mutter, pulling him up just as his movement becomes less frantic. Concussed and slurry from the waterlogging, he’s more dead weight than anything else as you haul him onto his feet. “And don’t you move an inch.”
He only offers a token resistance as your arm snakes around his neck, and bring the edge of the knife right along his carotid. Not one second later, Shannon and McDonald come skidding into your field of vision. Much like their boss, they brought some of their own contraband to the fist-fight. You spy the glint of a crude shiv, and an expendable baton. Between feeling justified at bringing the knife, and ironic hypocrisy at complaining when you also broke the rules…eh, doesn’t really matter.
Dumb and Dumber stop only a meter away. They have enough sense to not get closer, but they’re still visibly tense.
Pierce stiffens as you dig the knife a little bit harder into his skin, and stop just short of making a cut. In a voice more tired than anything else, you exhale: “Call them off, or else I’ll rip your throat open.”
“…you…you wouldn’t dare-”
Even now, he’s got the stones to try and act tough. How tiresome. The pain in your thigh throbs angrily, and you really need to lie down. “I’m only a slave, remember? I don’t have much going for me, so I have to get my rocks off wherever I can.”
He stiffens. “…I…”
“Clock’s ticking, Pierce.” You emphasize the statement with the tap of your boot on the platform. “Tell your goons to drop their weapons, and kick them away. No sudden movements from either of them, or else I’ll make one move of my own.”
Shannon looks uncertain, but McDonald’s spoiling for a fight. “We can still take ‘im, Pierce. All you gotta do is…”
You look him straight in where you think his eyes are. “Wanna bet? I’ll give you thirty-thousand to one odds you can rush be before I kill him.”
That seems to do it.
“Back off, back off! Just…” Pierce struggles momentarily, but isn’t able to undo the headlock. “…back off and…do what he says.”
Shannon drops his shiv immediately. McDonald takes longer, scowling as he loses the baton.
“To the hab, gentlemen,” you say in a voice that brokers no nonsense. “We’ll be just along shortly-”
The power couldn’t have come back on at a more opportune moment.
They don’t make it too far, only halfway up the ladder and stairs. And just as you ponder the mystery of how to make sure they won’t jump you on the way back, the Duck comes roaring back to life. Dozens of 1000-megawatt lights come slamming back on, stabbing you in the face. It hurts like a mother, but not nearly as bad as it’s gonna hurt Pierce, what with his concussion.
(cont.)
