Rift Station: Open Worlds
I stay silent. Probably a good thing, too, as my traveling mates probably have bad breath. The fish-eyed one keeps poking the edge of my seat with his massive arm. If he wasn't puffing his chest out so much, arms crossed, I bet he could move his arm out of the way. But, priorities are priorities.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, at least the best I can. The chains around my ankles and wrists allow little movement. My butt itches and I rock my weight side-to-side in order to scratch it. It doesn't do the trick, so I shift forward and back. The result is a loud rustling of metal and the turning of every eye in the shuttle on me. As I try to stretch the chains under me in order to "floss" the itch, the shuttle slams to a halt.
The normal white lighting transitions into a flashing red and a siren, too loud for its own good, begins to ring. The prison escorts rush pass, frantically, to complete their emergency tasks. Laser fire echoes down the hallway, and the mechanized scream from the helmeted transport guards quickly follows. Suddenly, the electric switch on my cuffs flash green. A split-second later, they fall to the ground with a deadening crash as the other prisoner's cuffs unlock and fall at the same time.
My fellow transportees don't hesitate. They rush off, arming themselves with the closest weapon-like objects. I see one guy holding a pair of chopsticks menacingly. Unless he's about to fight a bowl of fried rice, I don't think he'll get very far. Speaking of which, perhaps I should run too, but where? Sometimes it's better to sit and wait things out.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, at least the best I can. The chains around my ankles and wrists allow little movement. My butt itches and I rock my weight side-to-side in order to scratch it. It doesn't do the trick, so I shift forward and back. The result is a loud rustling of metal and the turning of every eye in the shuttle on me. As I try to stretch the chains under me in order to "floss" the itch, the shuttle slams to a halt.
The normal white lighting transitions into a flashing red and a siren, too loud for its own good, begins to ring. The prison escorts rush pass, frantically, to complete their emergency tasks. Laser fire echoes down the hallway, and the mechanized scream from the helmeted transport guards quickly follows. Suddenly, the electric switch on my cuffs flash green. A split-second later, they fall to the ground with a deadening crash as the other prisoner's cuffs unlock and fall at the same time.
My fellow transportees don't hesitate. They rush off, arming themselves with the closest weapon-like objects. I see one guy holding a pair of chopsticks menacingly. Unless he's about to fight a bowl of fried rice, I don't think he'll get very far. Speaking of which, perhaps I should run too, but where? Sometimes it's better to sit and wait things out.