WHO: Brian Royce & Dahlia Valentine WHEN: In the middle of the West Side Story clusterfuck WHERE: Dahlia's room WHAT: Wow, what a clusterfuck this all is.
Royce's hands hurt.
They were bandaged up, and thank God he'd gotten them taken care of before Dr. Saunders cut out and all hell broke loose. This was a mess and he was pretty sure they were all going to die here. He was not okay with this. He wasn't about to publicly announce how stressed he was, how freaked out, but it was obvious in the way he carried himself. He was even quieter than usual. Snappish.
He had to get out of here. He had to get to his kids. He didn't want to die without ever seeing them again.
So the doors were lined with a corrosive, explosive chemical. So they were reinforced. That didn't mean they couldn't get out. They just had to clean up the chemicals and slowly work to get through the door. They had tools. They didn't have to blow it up. He'd learned a few things from his Active's imprints. That didn't mean he could get out of here on his own, but he'd sure as hell try.
As a matter of fact, he'd gathered up whatever tools he could find in the janitorial closets and stockpiled them in Dahlia's room. He was working on a plan.