#janitorialevil

Gone is the daydream of a sinfully extended work break. Fourteen minutes extra, dutifully scrimped out of the day's tasks. Yet then, as Petrov faces the door and turns its deadbolts, he does so knowing that he locks away the possibility of getting to enjoy a break of any length now. Choosing solidarity over trifles like leisure was not a question.

"No, no. I will decide afterward if I am getting mad. Certainly you are not asking me to be pleased—" trailing off, sparing Troy from an earful of bad faith. The recluctantly re-donned mask doesn't dull the edge in Petrov's voice any.

That aperture was meant to allow pass-through of bullshit like nutrient bars laced with lab-grown experimental cocktails. Whoever designed it never factored in that a custodian could probe a broom handle through. After this, the powers that be will probably weld the slot shut altogether.

The broom in @janitorialevil 's grip doesn't budge, cement-stuck in the food-slot.

A great force wrenches for control, hauling the broom into darkness. Bristles snap at attention as the too-wide brush head splinters against the too-narrow passage. Strain creaks through the broomstick, but only for a moment before it snaps.

A nearby monitor flickers on, displaying a black and white, stagnant view of the subject in the covered containment cell. A man's silhouette, sporting a shaved head and featureless clothes, back to the camera and blocking his hands.

Inside, Riddick feels his prize: measuring the rod's reach, thumbing the edged junctures where it'd broken, testing the fiberglass for durability by striking it to his legs.

This is quite the haul.

"Strong set of pipes."

It's the same voice as before, layered over a soft digital echo. It's coming from a speaker with its volume set on low, stationed by the live footage.

[ DRY ]:          the sender uses a hairdryer to dry the receiver’s hair.

Lijah sits cross legged on a table in the janitors' break room, hands resting over his ankles. The vents are cleaned, but being so close to the cleaning supply fumes has left him pleasantly high. It'll last for another hour or so, if past experience is anything to go by. He doesn't really remember how he got soaked; it's all a fuzzy blur. Doesn't matter- Lijah is in a fresh set of coveralls and his hair is being dried. It's life being in the best opium den, probably. He's never been in one before but still

@janitorialevil ---- "Hey! Hey! Stop that!" He's running over with a mop. "You don't have the right clearance to clean up this mess!" Sure you knocked it over, but you can't clean it up.

HIS FRANTIC Claims don't go unnoticed , in fact it's met with a small jolt of surprise at first , momentary hesitation , a -- ' ' Hm . ' ' --- and then , no further reaction , really , as fingers continue picking out the larger glass pieces , and placing them into her open palm . The almost vinegary smell , mixed with some weird form of rot now wafts in the air , filling the relatively large corridor space quicker than expected . Formaldehyde -- effectively spilled across the floor , resulting in the horrendous mass of a dead specimen that was kept inside , to now lay upon the ground , looking near deflated if anything . But , she can only be thankful to making such a habit out of wearing her mask this frequently - she is safe from any horrid stenches , just not from the embarrassment of it all . -- ' ' My mother didn't raise me to be messy . ' ' - a mumbling acknowledgement , head tilted down still as she is focused on cleaning up as much as she is able to by hands alone .

"Latest money hole by scientists? Oh, yes, I have seen. It resembles seven eyes in pile of toothpaste — how it is so fast? I do not know. And so, so resistant to fire. Well, you have learned hard way now to trust Petrov when he tells you to refuel.