END GAME: THE COUNTDOWN STARTS

[sailmods]

[the prisoners wake up on cold, hard floors.

the lights are bright, glaring, a sterile cell with sterile bars facing a sterile hall. the prisoners with you, across from you, and no one else. no rocking of a ship in waves, nothing. just the prisoner and their prison.

time passes, one assumes. the rhythmic click of Friday’s heels down the hall. it’s almost like the ticking of a clock.]

Comments

[ss_buttcrack]

"Front?" The sock puppet is back so it can fully express Crichton's confusion with exaggerated movements. "Is that some kind of new slang I don't know?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Where I come from," Edgar says, "the Front was where the people with all the power lived. The ones who keep all the best of everything for themselves, and think they fuckin own everybody else."

He gestures with his chin in the direction of the door, and by implication at Malin. "Don't know a damn thing about her, but just try telling me she's not Front."

not here

[ossie_oswald]

Ossie begins to sweat imperceptibly.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Ain't gonna argue with that definition," Crichton says, as the sock puppet pantomimes a shrug.

"She's literally treating us all like property to own or trade away. We're going to make her regret that."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Fuckin right we will."

There's nothing but confidence in his voice, even though he hasn't the first clue how they might make her regret anything. They're alive; that means they haven't lost yet.