Ranboo barely slept through the night.

His mind was frantically running over everything that could go wrong, which was a lot. A whole lot could go wrong. But when morning came he was eerily calm. Or maybe hours of worrying had left him desensitized. He would take it.

Technoblade had a fight in the afternoon, but Ranboo was called to help in the kitchen again during the morning. Just as they had planned, just as they had hoped. Nothing was going wrong yet.

They had the communicator and the health potions in the chest. What Ranboo needed to do was smuggle some more food, maybe a couple of extra potions. Anything they would need to survive the time it would take for help to arrive – which could take hours to days. He was in too much of a hurry to look last time but if there were pods of invisibility or swiftness in the cupboard but that would be ideal. Techno would take care of getting them at least one weapon from the armory. Ranboo didn't have a clue how he was planning to do so, but he trusted Techno.

When dinner was brought tonight and the door to their cell was opened, they would overpower whichever handler had been sent to feed them – Ranboo didn't know if he'd prefer it to be Mel or was praying for it not to be him – and make a break for it.

And all Ranboo had to do was get inside that cupboard.

He peeled potatoes – breathe, breathe – while waiting for Clarissa to call on him to get ingredients from the pantry. She hummed while she worked, apron swaying with the motion as she danced through the kitchen. Her voice was always light and melodic. She reminded Ranboo of Niki in a weird way, half-up hair and hands that worked with more tenderness than he could comprehend.

They would be back. They would return and free every single one of the people whose freedom this arena had ever taken away.

"Ranboo?" She always said his name in the same manner when she was trying to catch his attention, soft and careful not to startle him. Mindful of his tendency to daydream. "I'm thinking carrots for in the stew tonight, could you fetch me some?"

His heartbeat stalled, Ranboo pretended to be lost in thought to play his reaction off. "Y-yeah, sure."

Mechanically, he got up. Clarissa had turned around, not noticing his strained behavior. A whole lot could go wrong. This is where it could go wrong. He walked into the pantry and immediately got the arrowhead from his pocket. Forcing the padlock open went a lot faster this time since he knew what he was doing. He dropped it on the ground in his haste but decided to ignore it for now.

Because he'd opened the cupboard and this is where it could go wrong and he had to be quick.

A few more golden apples, another health potion. Ranboo considered taking a second communicator but the chances that it would work better than the first one were slim. They only needed one message, anyway. No invisibility potions – of course not. Why would they be lucky enough to find exactly what they'd need? Ranboo was part-way into picking up a swiftness pod when the door opened.

He froze. It wasn't the best reaction, not a logical one. He wasn't capable of doing anything to hide his guilt. Clarissa stopped in the doorway with her mouth open in greeting, swallowed down when she saw what he was doing.

"Ranboo, how did you-" She interrupted herself, walked forward with big strides that almost had him shrink back. He couldn't do it. Not from her. "Close that right now, what if someone sees you?!"

There was little to no anger in her voice, rather she sounded worried for his sake. Ranboo wanted to bawl, wanted to cry and shake her and implore her to go with them when they escaped because she didn't belong to be here either, regardless of it being impossible. He didn't get to do any of those things though.

The door opened again.

For a second nobody moved. The person that had walked in was the last person Ranboo wanted to see. Clarissa shifted, put her body in front of the cupboard as if she'd be able to conceal what was going on. It was already too late, the swiftness potion was still held in Ranboo's hand. His horrified expression would tell the rest of the story.

"I told him to get something," Clarissa said firmly. She didn't get out of the blond man's way as they advanced on Ranboo. "It's not what it looks like, sir."

Deep down, Ranboo's respect and fondness for her was glad it hadn't been misplaced. Not that it mattered, not that it would make a difference. Everything he feared had gone wrong and as much as he appreciated Clarissa's attempt to stick up for him it wouldn't make a difference.

Because the blond man pushed her aside like it meant nothing, their hand curled harshly against her shoulder. His other hand found Ranboo's wrist and unlike last time he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

"I knew it!" They hissed, loud enough that Ranboo flinched away from them. There was nowhere for him to run, nowhere to go. "I fucking knew some little rat was stealing shit. I should have known it was you."

And then he was being pulled outside, Clarissa unable to do anything but watch them go. The blond man called a second handler and then the three of them started marching back to their cell. Ranboo's pulse accelerated.

Not only would they know about him stealing, they would find the other items he had hidden. They would take them and then they'd never be able to escape and they would be sold as slaves and separated and Ranboo would never see his home again-

The door to the cell slammed open, the blond man was screaming. Techno raised an eyebrow at them as if he had no idea what the ruckus was about. Ranboo knew the situation was terrible, but he had to salvage what he could.

"He doesn't know!" he heard himself say, desperate. Urging them to believe him. "He didn't know I was doing this, I've been keeping stuff for myself in my chest."

Techno's face remained impassive, not a muscle twitched.

The blond man pulled out the chest from beneath Ranboo's bed, throwing the lid. They scoffed as they took out the health potion, the various pieces of food Ranboo had stashed.

But not the communicator. It wasn't in the chest anymore.

Ranboo's eyes flicked over at Techno, who kept one of his hands against his pocket subtly. A whole lot was going wrong, distantly Ranboo could be glad one thing wasn't. Techno could have heard them coming what with the ruckus the blond man was making in the hallway. And he had managed to at least hide the one item they couldn't do without.

"Check the other one," the blond said, nodding at Techno's cot. The second handler pulled out the chest but found it empty.

"He didn't know," Ranboo repeated a little quieter. And though they didn't look exactly convinced, they also clearly didn't care too much to find out the truth. Ranboo was the one who had been caught. He was the one who would be punished.

Their fingers tightened around the upper part of his arms like a vice, nails catching on the fabric of his shirt. They started pulling and Ranboo couldn't do anything but follow. He still couldn't breathe. Everything was going wrong.

"Where are you taking him?" Techno asked, voice raised a bit.

The blond man was relentless in dragging him forward. "That's none of your concern."

"I say it is," Techno growled. But Ranboo was already being pulled into the hallway and the second handler stepped in to keep Technoblade from interfering. Ranboo didn't know where they were going, didn't know what was happening. He was scared, scared and unable to breathe.

And then a completely different door was opening, heavy-set and dark oak. The pitch-black room beyond was somehow even smaller than their cell. If he'd stand in the middle he wouldn't even be able to spread his arms out without touching both walls. It was empty – no furniture, not even a light source – and smelled dewy, moisture clinging to the stones.

Stumbling over his own feet, Ranboo was shoved inside. The door closed, locked, barred. He rattled the handle but it was impossible – stupid, stupid.

It was locked and he was alone, all alone. With no idea when he'd be let out; if he'd be let out.

He couldn't breathe, inhales speeding up at the realization. No matter what he did, air refused to enter his lungs. Ranboo's eyes had become as used to the darkness as they could, but there was nothing to see aside from the walls closing in on him. His vision tunneled, shrinking down and he sunk onto the ground, pressed his back into the wall and pulled his knees up against his chest.

The room was too small and he was all alone.

Panic was an understatement for what he was experiencing. Whatever it could be called was clawing at his throat, pounding against his skull and his entire body trembled under the onslaught. He was close to leaving it behind completely, lightheaded and empty. So he dug his claws into his palms instead.

The pain was good and helpful. The pain made it so he couldn't wander. It became an anchor, a tether. Blood and warmth and sharp, sharp pain that could connect him to his own mind.

But it wouldn't help him breathe.

A whole lot could have gone wrong, Ranboo had just been foolish enough to think he'd already come up with the worst possible scenario and how to deal with it.

In the solitary darkness of his brand new cell, he figured he'd been wrong.