ALEXIS
The commotion throughout the building indicated something far more serious than a random power-outage. This wasn't an erratic malfunction—this was a breakout. Above her, Alexis could hear the desperate scampering of prisoners escaping their cells and flooding the stairways, followed by the clang of metallic footsteps and rapid gunfire. Racing through the endless doors and hallways of the labyrinthine complex, she fought to put Tails and Sally out of her mind. There would be time to grieve later.
She was about halfway down the third staircase when her muscles involuntarily relaxed. It was like passing through water—floating slowly forward in time as her legs collapsed from underneath her. She couldn't flex her hand to grip the railing. Her tumble down the remaining stairs was jolting but disturbingly painless; she couldn't tell if anything broke. With a dull slam, she found herself sprawled at the base of the staircase, looking up dazedly at the sweeping red emergency lights.
She tried moving, but she couldn't. Snively's drug had completely paralyzed her. Ahead of her, she could see an adjacent stairway, where several prisoners were rushing past. They didn't even notice her. Probably for the better, she decided. She might as well have been dead.
Her heartbeat jolted when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Can you get up?" someone asked. His voice was urgent, but composed. It was comforting.
But she couldn't answer him; she could barely move her lips. Just go, she thought. I'll slow you down. I'm not worth it. In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of him—a young, scruffy dingo. He seemed unfamiliar, but she recognized the look in his eyes: the kind she witnessed in medical student dropouts who never learned to detach themselves from their patients. He had seen too much death, and it haunted him.
Run, her mind screamed. Run now, and you'll forget you saw me.
He didn't even hesitate. The dingo knelt down and gathered her into his arms.
No…!
"You're gonna be okay," he whispered. He started running. Before long, the potency of the drug and trauma of the situation overwhelmed her, and Alexis fell unconscious.
SNIVELY
As Snively burst into the observation room, Bunnie Rabbot wheeled up to him gracefully with his desk chair. "HELLO, SNIVELY. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SIT?"
"No."
He scanned the monitors, furious. A mass breakout was the last thing he expected to happen—ever—and he was embarrassingly ill-prepared for it.
"WOULD YOU LIKE SOME POPCORN?"
"No."
He couldn't believe it: every single prison cell in the complex had been evacuated. Even with every available SWATbot unit deployed, it was inevitable that at least some of the prisoners would escape the complex. Judging from the recent power failure, it appeared that somebody had successfully sabotaged the security system. But who? And how the hell did they do it without Snively noticing? Impossible, he thought.
"PERHAPS YOU WOULD ENJOY SOME HERBAL TEA?" said Bunnie, presenting an elaborate platter.
"I said NO!"
Without thinking, he whirled around and knocked the platter from her hands. The tea pot and cups and saucers tumbled dramatically, shattering on top of her in a spray of hot liquid, drenching her. Seconds later, the robot sparked and burst into flame. She released a strange, high-pitched digital scream and whirled in flaming circles around the room, head spinning as Snively frantically scrambled for a fire extinguisher. As soon as he yanked it off the wall, he pulled the pin and blasted the inferno in a gust of white foam.
A moment of silence ticked by. He sighed, collapsing a little against the doorframe.
"Snively," spoke a cold voice on the intercom, "haven't I warned you that liquids and electronics are incompatible?"
He ignored him. "Sir," he said quickly, "I have SWATbots on every floor. There's been an escape—"
"I know, Snively. Relax."
"Relax?"
"Everything is going according to plan. I deliberately never mentioned this part to you, because I wanted it to provoke a genuine reaction." He laughed malevolently. "And bravo, Snively; that was the most hilarious display of ineptitude I've ever seen."
"Should I call off the SWATbots?"
"Of course not, you dimwit. Their escape must appear authentic."
"Then what the hell do we do? Sit around and twiddle our thumbs?"
"Patience, Snively—each step is absolutely critical. In the meantime, I'd like for you to prepare a candlelit dinner in my private gallery. I'm inviting someone very special this evening."
"Yes, of course sir."
"Delicious. Good night, Snively."
The silence that followed was unsettling. Snively sank in his chair, assessing the charred remains of his former assistant with something approaching regret. Bunnie Rabbot was the closest thing to a friend that he'd ever had.