CELLS A2 AND A3

Tristan woke up with another headache and the urge to piss. He jumped out of his bunk and almost automatically walked into the bathroom before consciously remembering where he was.

His fellow prisoners were still asleep. In the center of the floor, there was the fruit bowl, refilled. And there was the silence, a fog that enveloped them all in a constant, painful rhythm, and staying awake was more frightening than falling asleep.

He tip-toed back to his bunk, getting down on his knees and gently shaking Simon's shoulder. The raccoon's snapped open immediately. "Hmmm?"

"Hey. Come with me to the bathroom."

The last time Tristan had been in either of the bathrooms was on the first day they had all woken up, and he hadn't revisited them since. The space terrified him. He imagined a hidden door slamming down and trapping him inside, cutting him off live contact. He imagined the room filling with gas. He imagined starving to death.

With someone in the bathroom with him, he felt a little more at ease. At least he wouldn't have to die alone.

Simon went in with him, making it look easy, in stark contrast to Tristan's head snapping back and forth, up and down, looking for the hammer about to come down on him. Disappointment. All that worry, for nothing. Embarrassment. It's only a bathroom.

"I think we can make it this time, sir."

He barely heard it. Tristan was busy staring at the toilet, attempting to forget what a fool he had been. "You remember these from Mobotropolis, Simon? … Running water. Practically every home had a bathroom with running water. It was a luxury we all took for granted." He brushed back the hair on his head, trying to keep it out of his eyes. "A bit more flattering than… who am I kidding, I look like a friggen mess." He had a hard time admitting it, but he was actually excited about the idea of using a real toilet, for once. "We'll have to try out the showers sooner or later." He didn't want to get comfortable, but… "Stand in front of the entrance, will you?"

Tristan urinated with shocking ease, but it shocked him how loud it was. Like a goddamn waterfall.

"You stay up late last night?"

"I tried, sir."

"Same results?"

"Yes sir. The others were trying to do it too. I can't remember how far we got."

"Odd that the others can't remember falling asleep in Knothole, either. You think there's a connection?"

"Definitely, sir."

"We'll talk about it with the others. What else did you guys do?"

"The girls and Buster played catch, and sir, I think Durango and Shirk might have tried looking out the window already."

Of course. "That's fine. Durango sees a motive behind everything. He's a great outside perspective to have. Well… sometimes." He finished, considering flushing but deciding to wait until after they looked outside, in case it was loud enough to wake the others. He backed away from the toilet and approached the window. "Ready?"

Tristan kneeled down and Simon stepped onto his shoulders. He grabbed Simon's ankles and stood carefully, balancing. He looked up, seeing the kid's fingers gripping the window ledge tightly. He put his hands under the raccoon's bare feet.

"One, two, three." He pushed, struggling at first under the weight. It really had been awhile since he had lifted anything heavy. Simon eased his chin over the ledge, peering outside…

"Oh my God!"

Tristan cringed at how loud his voice sounded. He didn't worry too much about Robotnik seeing them do this, but he'd very much like it if the others found out about this later, when he told them. The last thing he needed was a crowd crammed into this tiny bathroom.

He waited patiently for Simon to finish, longing to be up there with him, to see something from the outside world again, not just an infinitely repeated version of himself. He wanted to enjoy the sight of organic life, more than what he had to covet and consume. The food was more of a taunt than anything, a bit of color in a world of black and white.

"… Okay, sir." His voice sounded forced, like leaving the window at all was a terrible crime. Tristan kneeled and Simon jumped down by himself, breathless.

"What is it? What did you see?"

"They… they're building something."

"Roboticized Mobians. He said he couldn't see it very well because there's some scrap in the way. He thinks we're near the Forbidden Zone."

Shirk folded his arms across his chest, wearing a tight frown. "No, we're not. Scrap heaps are only in the Forbidden Zone, not near. We're in the south sector, outside of the old palace."

"Regardless, it's important."

"It's probably just another SWATbot factory or iron forge."

"You saw who they have working on it, right?" Durango said to Shirk. "Hundreds of our people, crawling over it like insects over a fucking carcass, using our friends and family for his dirty work."

"We can't do anything about it from here," Tristan said, uneasy. "So he's building something. This information would have mattered if we were still in Knothole."

"It's just a fucking building, and like you said, grim, we can't do shit about it. Pay attention, Buster!"

The bobcat looked up, startled. "S-sorry. Um…" He indicated at a sniffling Jenn at his right. "She has to use the bathroom."

Tristan wasn't happy about it, but he nodded, motioning for Sabrina and Holly to escort her, but he stopped Buster from following them. "Not you."

Durango watched the girls gather around the far bathroom entrance in A2. He shook his head, chuckling. "I'd want to watch too." He turned back to Tristan. "You think you're the brains of this group, then you enlighten me: what do you think they're building?"

"… I couldn't tell you."

"No?"

Tristan sighed. "What I am telling you is... what do we have? Only two toilets for the eight of us. Bunk beds, food, and sure, we got surveillance on us but… I'm saying we have it too good. Robotnik crammed us into these egg shells maybe for storage."

"Oh yeah? Until when?"

"… Maybe until they're done building."

Simon cleared his throat. "Should we try the showers today, sir?"

"Fuck that!" Durango got right up to the small raccoon's face, snarling. "He's trying make us docile, force us into the habit of sleeping in our own beds, to use his showers, his toilets, to eat his fucking food, to turn us into his goddamn children! And what's next! No, no way. He wants me to sleep, he's going to have to put me to sleep! He wants me in my bed, he's going to have to put me there every night! He can keep me here, but he can't make me live here."

The others watched Durango try to storm off. He fumed in the corner for a few moments before retiring to his bed, pulling the covers up over his head. There was nowhere else to go.

It had been too much to hope for the group to get along like they had in Knothole; sad to consider that the only thing that needed to change was the setting before they were at each other's throats. At least they weren't exchanging blows.

Durango was getting worse and worse at preaching to the crowd. Yesterday, he started a debate as to whether or not Robotnik could hear them, in addition to seeing them. The stationary cameras in the corners didn't have visible microphones, but his point was that their very environment was constructed not to their needs, but to Robotnik's. Thus, microphones could be hidden anywhere: in the mirrors, in the walls, in their beds, and so on. While Tristan agreed that they should exercise caution in what they talked about, Durango said that they should refrain from talking altogether.

Tristan wondered if the Buster had many friends back in Knothole, and if they were all girls. He was hanging out with Holly and her bunch exclusively now, avoiding all contact with the men.

And the girls, they avoided the rest of the men as well, likely afraid of inciting territorial battles. They knew a bad idea when they saw it. Tristan suspected it was Holly that thought of this. Smart girl. It was a shame that they couldn't talk-

-clink-

… !

Tristan acted on instinct and he gripped the shower knob, turning the water off. Something loud... the sound of metal hitting metal. "Clink." He waved his arms wildly, pushing the steam out of the way. He fell to his knees, unsure of what he was looking for.

There. Frighteningly close to the shower drain, mere inches away from being lost in the plumbing forever. An iron bolt.

He picked it up and examined it, running his fingers over the stripping. Rust flaked off and landed on the floor, slicing into beads of water. Feeling the weight of it caused something inside of Tristan to snap to attention, sending an electric shock straight into his heart, a thrilling sensation moving all through him. His urge to escape woke up and slapped him across the face.

It wasn't hopeless after all.

Standing, gripping the bolt in one hand, shaking as much water off of him as he could, acting like nothing had just happened, he exited the bathroom. As nonchalant as possible, he approached Durango at his bedside.

"Hey, grim. Mighty quick shower today, huh? Gonna check in early, again?"

Tristan opened his mouth to speak. "…"

"Yeah? What's on your mind?"

"… Where's the ball?"

Durango motioned to the group of girls, looking disappointed. "Getting sick and tired of them playing…" Tristan was already walking towards them. "… grab-ass."

His hand tightened around the hidden bolt, keeping the warmth in contact. He didn't know if he should tell someone immediately or keep the whole thing to himself. Durango could be right, after all, about the place being bugged. Even if it wasn't, there were the cameras watching him.

But this required swift action. The bold had been thrown inside, by whom? An outsider, a survivor, a fellow freedom fighter from Knothole? Did it matter?

He advanced to Simon's bunk. The eager raccoon instantly jumped to his feet. "Yes-"

"I gotta piss."

"… Sir?"

"Sorry." He motioned to the bathroom, emphasizing each and every action. "Will you come with me?"

Simon shook off his confusion. "A-Absolutely, sir."

Tristan let Simon lead the way, keeping his head low. Once inside, he placed a hand on the kid's back and pushed him to the back wall. He held out his right hand, unfolded his fingers, and revealed the find.

"S-!"

Tristan's empty hand clamped over Simon's mouth just in time. He looked sternly into his eyes, shaking his head. A moment passed, and that was all it took for him to understand.

Beads of water had gathered on the walls, making the task of getting Simon up to the window extremely difficult. Tristan's bare feet slid across the floors away from the wall. Eventually, the racoon got a firm hold on the window ledge. Biting down on the bolt in his mouth, almost gagging at the taste, Tristan pushed and strained under the weight.

Tristan heard him gasp out loud. He looked up, trying to see what was going on. Cold water from the wall landed in his eyes, blurring his vision. He tried shaking it off but the water kept coming. He forgot about the taste of the rusty bolt in his mouth.

Simon gave the signal to be let down. Concerned, Tristan brought him to the floor quickly. He spat the bolt into his hand. "Who was it?"

"A red fox, sir, on the ground. He didn't say anything. I think he's coming back."

All this time, Tristan had pretended like getting captured was just another puzzle to solve, another chore to do, that whatever happened, he would be able to deal with it. The truth was, he couldn't stand the thought of staying there the rest of his life, dying slowly and likely very painfully.

He collapsed to his knees, completely overcome. "We're saved."