spam, open . CW: FIRE, EXPLOSIONS . forward-dated to MONDAY NIGHT

[inhell]

When she slips into the kitchen, she goes straight for a toaster and a timer. Her hands are swearing as she pulls the filament out, cuts it through and bends it, carefully, fingers clumsy, so that the ends of it are close together but not touching. Next, the timer, which she spins and sets to fifteen minutes then has to reset to six because her hands are shaking so much. Six was what she settled on. The best compromise between getting distance between herself and the kitchen and making sure no one stepping inside for a midnight snack would be able to find what was happening and stop it.

She wants to destroy this place. So what if it means killing her too? If they die, they all starve, and the Admiral dies, no one will ever have to come here again. All of the bastard wardens will be dead, and all of the inmates already were. Nothing will change, except for the better.

She tries to calm down, wiping sweaty hands on her jeans. Next, she darts to the ovens, opens the bottom and snuffs out the pilot lights. Turns the gas on high, each dial as far as it will go. She smells gas by the time she gets to the last one. Five minutes, now, until the toaster comes on and starts to spark.

Now she tears open the few bags of flour she can find. Spills them out, scattering as much into the air as she can.

And she bolts.

She is sweating, her heart is pounding, and her eyes are probably wide and wild. She barely manages to keep herself from running; her goal is to get as far away from the kitchen as possible, or maybe just to hide in her room. She hasn't thought that all the way through.

Nor has she thought through the flour marks on her jeans and hands.

-

Four and a half more minutes, and the kitchen blows up, in the small hours of the morning on Tuesday.

A violent thud, and then something like a shuddering roar beneath the decks. The kitchen is on fire, the heat devouring anything it can find, flames licking out into the hallway.

[ OOC: On Tuesday morning/Monday night, the kitchen is blown up and set on fire. Putting this up early because I have more time on the weekend, and so people can have time to react and plot. People are free to run into Ellie, catch her and throw her into Zero, or attempt to kill her or hurt her (Marsh and Nathan and possibly others are set to get in the way, but the result is not firmly plotted yet). Responding to the fire, etc. can happen here if you want or on separate posts. Whatever works for you! ]

Comments

[with_my_teacup]

[Riddick's room went dark last evening. Ned probably minded. Riddick didn't. But he hears the boom and jerks out of a half-doze catnap, senses pinpointing deck and floor.

He knows what he'll find before he even sees--the smell of burnt flour mingled with the smoke tells a story. The kitchen.

It's not hard to follow the trail of the culprit. Lamentably easy, really.]

[inhell]

[ She's making her way to the inmate bathrooms. Not her own - but the women's one, the one with the showers, where she could wash the flour off of her hands. She imagines she can feel the heat behind her.

And then something pricks the edges of her senses. The sound of a door, behind her in the stairwell. The sense of a presence. Whatever it is, it makes her break into a faster walk, almost a run, and dart towards an empty cabin - anywhere she can hide. ]

[with_my_teacup]

[Riddick stalks after the fleeing figure, jaw gritted.

He trails her into the room, leaning on the doorframe, his wide body eclipsing the door.]

[inhell]

[ She comes at him from the side, knife in hand, not waiting for him to announce himself or say a word about what he is. Her movement is desperate and quick, but not particularly trained; she fights like someone who figured it all out for herself, the hard way. ]

[with_my_teacup]

[He grabs at her wrist, his reflexes just a little faster, his skill just a little more honed.

But he fights like she fights, trained in the school of hard knocks, starting young. He fights like she will if she survives long enough.]

Really. This was your escape plan.

[inhell]

[ He gets her in a hold easily, too easily, and she thrashes and kicks. ]

Can't escape from a boat.

[ Not from this boat, anyway. The last boat, she dove over the side. Her shoulder still hurts, sometimes, remembering the impact with the water. ]

[with_my_teacup]

You could do better than this, fuck.

[There's a pause, in which he just holds her wrist.

Then he bundles her under his arm like a ball.]

Inmate showers are too obvious. Come on.

[inhell]

[ The shock of that makes her go limp, stop pulling against his grip. ]

What?

[ She lets him pull her along. ]

[with_my_teacup]

[His room is dark, pitch black when he slams the door behind him, but when he opens the bathroom door a feeble, flickering light shows. He shoves her into the shower and slams the curtain closed.]

You shower the fuck off and give me your clothes so I can get the flour off them.

[inhell]

[ She is frozen in shock, for a handful of seconds after the curtain is closed. She'd been petrified as he dragged her here, thinking - thinking the worst, really, as to what he wanted to do to her. What else would wardens do? They're all powerful, and none of them hesitate to abuse it.

She would rather be in a war zone than here. She would rather be home.

Nothing in her wants sex, at the moment. Adrenaline is still pounding through her veins. She doesn't want to get naked, and she doesn't want to trust anyone. But she recognizes well enough that she doesn't have a choice.

She strips down quickly and shoves the clothes around the curtain, turning on the spray. It's been a while since she's let herself take a shower, but she doesn't take the time to enjoy it. Just soaps up and rinses off, gets the smell of his soap on her. Gets her hair wet. People will think they've had sex, if they see her leaving. Better than thinking he was hiding her. ]

[with_my_teacup]

[As she showers, he works at her clothes with infinite care-- they can't look too clean, too washed. They can't be wet. A spare pair of pants provides him canvas to work with-- just slightly damp, it lifts most of the flour instead of rubbing it in. ]

Wash under your nails good. Then as soon as you can run your fingers in some dust so you get new accumulation that don't smell like accelerant and flour.

[inhell]

I didn't use accelerant, I just did gas. Cooking gas.

[ From her experience, a few minutes of that flooding a room as high as possible was enough for a pretty big boom. And this had six minutes to gather.

Her nails are neater now than they've been in ages. Not torn or bloody. She hasn't been struggling for her life here - not every day, anyway. So she digs out what's under her nails and washes it down the drain and flicks off the water, shivering now with cold and adrenaline withdrawal. ]

[with_my_teacup]

You smelled like it.

[He glares at her clothes. They'll pass, but only a casual inspection. He hucks a worn towel over the shower bar when the water stops.]

I'm going for a walk. Your shit is on the sink. Get out, change into dirty clothes as fast as you can, find an inmate with some brains to help you destroy this outfit.

You're gone when I get back, got it?

[inhell]

[ She nods, still in shock, still bewildered. Then realizes he can't see her. ]

Yes. Yeah.

[ And she obeys. Shucks on clothes, quickly as possible, and pulls her wet hair back. The person she goes to is Bea, and she doesn't look back. ]

[with_my_teacup]

[He paces the deck-- gives her time to get out in case the corridor is full of people.

There'd been a brief struggle in his mind-- she'd destroyed the food, she'd violated his territory, the impulse to snap her little neck had been strong.

Then there had been the other, unexpected part. The part that said there had been enough killing-- was going to be enough dying now that the kitchen and the last of the food stores were wiped out. That he needed to protect, now, not murder, that his favorites were in danger and nothing he did to her would stop it.

And that part, tired and small but honed sharp, had slipped right between his ribs.

He goes back to his room; no light. The door to the bathroom's fallen shut.

...no. That isn't why there's no light.

There's no door at all.]

[deadliestviper]

[Beatrix answers her door as soon as there's a sound outside. She's got a knife in her hand, raised and ready to strike, but pauses when she sees the small form in the gloom and takes hold of Ellie's shoulder.]

Come in. Did anyone see you on the way here?

[inhell]

I don't know, I rushed...

[ She lets Bea pull her inside. She is shivering, violently; her hair is still wet, but it's not from cold. ]

[deadliestviper]

[She slams the door as soon as Ellie's in, locks it, shoves the single chair in the room back under the knob. It's dark inside but it's safe, and she guides Ellie to sit on the cot.]

What happened? Are you hurt?

[inhell]

I blew up the kitchen.

The cook, what is it, Riddick, he found me.

[ She's suppressing little hysterical giggles. ]

I blew up the kitchen.

[deadliestviper]

That's what that was?

[Beatrix always knew Ellie was clever, and that she could do amazing things when pushed. Blowing up the kitchen was a damning move, but starvation was a better way to go than anything the wardens had planned for them - and at least they'd have to go through it too. She wraps an arm around her and rests her head against Ellie's, chuckling quietly.]

Don't worry. I'll take care of him, nobody's going to hurt you.

[inhell]

[ And she starts sobbing.

All of the worst parts of this Barge, all of the pressure. The desperation that would lead her to a suicide move. She is to the point where she would rather everyone die, all of them, then give any warden a chance to escape. ]

[deadliestviper]

[This isn't the first time an inmate's been reduced to tears and it's not the first time Bea's comforted one. She rubs Ellie's back, pulling her close to let her dry the tears on her shirt, murmuring soft reassurances.] Shh, shh, it's all right. It's okay. You did the right thing.

[inhell]

I might've killed everyone.

[deadliestviper]

Sweetheart, that's so much better than living here.

[inhell]

I know.

Still.