#missing ross

“Ah, you’re awake.” Says a voice. It’s spoken through static. There’s also a second quieter voice alongside it, but it speaks in gibberish. Or at least it sounds like gibberish. “I was wondering when the sedative would wear off. I’ll admit, the fight you put up was valiant. Most Off-Kilters run.”

“Wh... W-wh-” Ross chokes. “Hurts..”

“Mmm, it will. I’m glad the stifle-bug worked, actually. It seems you have some sort bond communication. Many species have that, but not humans. Tell me, what are you, exactly -- ah, if you’re looking for your knife, I took all of your weapons.”

Ross pauses. She doesn’t have her bonds, or her weapons, or her hands and feet, or her sight. 

There’s only one thing she can think to do.

She screams. She wails and flails, rolling on the floor and throwing what must be the biggest fit in the universe. 

There’s the sound of footsteps and she’s forced roughly up by slimy hands. She feels the stranger reach for her face. Screaming, she chomps down on his finger. And is promptly smacked across the jaw. 

“None of that. If you won’t tell what you are, I’ll just find out myself.” Something that may be tape smothers her mouth, then the footsteps clomp away and fade. 

Minutes pass. Once Ross is sure she’s alone, she focuses upon her magic. The... stifle-bug? Clamps down harder. She breathes through the pain. Focus, focus.... 

...

Finally. A tiny shard of light and the littlest orb of shadow. They’ll do. A fanged octopus spider (thing?) crawls into the knot of the rope. It nibbles and untangles just enough for her to yank her wrists free before it poofs away. 

She has to work quick.

The rope, blindfold, and tape are shucked away first. She takes a look at the stifle-beetle. It’s a sort of green stone that, as its name implies, looks like a beetle. Barbed legs and fangs dig into her skin and feed her some sort of... odd poison. Maybe she can just rip it off like a bandaid? 

“Ow -- shit!” Another pair of legs burst from the beetle and nail into her. There’s no time -- she’ll have to deal with it later. 

There’s a dashboard with a collage of switches and buttons that blink intimidatingly. She has no idea what any of them do. Does she guess? Does she wait?

She doesn’t have time for this! 

She just has to press something. Something that won’t lead to her death. Easy, right? 

Hesitantly, she reaches out and slides her finger down a row of green buttons. Green is good... Green is always good in the movies. 

A compartment pops open. Ross cries out.

“My stuff!” 

Too loud. In the distance the heavy footsteps echo. Ross snatches the first thing in the compartment -- her watch, her watch! Thank goodness! -- and rushes to pull the restraints back on. Scooting back against the corner, she hides her watch behind her back. 

There’s the screeeech-bang of a heavy door, shuffled footsteps, and she can feel the stranger’s stare on her.