Ece's in her one of her thief personalities.

How is she supposed to deliver terror to these strangers, thus freeing herself out?

Think, Ece, think. How to paralyze those people and gain your dominance back? Or better, earn a name and the location of the traitor, or the spy?

She retraces the events she has come across within this crucial week only.

There was nothing remarkable from her five heists across the city's sites. Besides obtaining her fellow thieves a handful of jewelry to craze over.

The final heist, which stole the onyx from Kirminai, brought nothing but the target itself and resulted in a permanent wound around her neck after being chased by the cave's natural inhabitants...which she better not think of.

Shortly afterward, she extracted Tayana from the hospital's Intensive Care Unit. Tayana was convulsing. The medics injected something into her veins, urging her to stop without any agreements.

That thing, was it anesthesia? Or does the medical world recognize it differently?

An idea arrives inside her head, resembling a lantern after eons without any warmth. That is the key. If the top suspect experiences convulsions, they'll do anything to stabilize her without any usages of violence.

The silencer, once again, is the key.

I need a fake stunt to attract their attention. Then paralyzing them with the anesthesia will be an easy piece.

So what can cause convulsions besides the dysfunction of one's brain cells?

This darkness won't result in her epilepsy, it'll drive her blind instead. The lack of sounds in the room can't trigger any convulsions. But there's this stifling atmosphere, which indicates the room's size isn't any larger than the usual prison cell.

Can the deficiency of oxygen result in a convulsion?

Three harsh raps against steel resound from the door. A hollow voice, deeper than a crater, follows suit. "Lunchtime in five minutes."

Five minutes to set up the stage.

Ece scrambles back to the metallic bed. Her back lands firmly on the cool tray. With both hands around her throat to dramatize. Both her jaws and teeth will clash with their opposite halves once her stunt begins.

Hopefully, her scheme dashes on a smooth satin, not on a coarse asphalt.

Three seconds; the walls seem to squeeze on her sides, increasing her heartbeat. Twenty seconds; sweat starts to flood over her. Thirty-five seconds; another set of footsteps approach her cell.

The foreign scream sourcing from her thinnest cords begins on second fifty-three.

She gasps; like a fish out of water, like a vulnerable astronaut on a stranded planet. The tight air burns her nostrils. Her back aches after constantly clashing with the board. The muscles in her arms beg for a pause.

The door breaks open, the hinges bent. Several arms reach for her help. Her scream drowns their pleas of silence. A fallen object hits the ground with a twang; possibly her future lunch. Light streams from the outside, stabbing her unprepared pupils.

"Get the medics, quick!" Panic edges the man's intonation. A cold, meaty finger reaches for her neck, on the spot where her hands don't grasp around.

He must feel her thrashing pulse.

"They're on their way! Two minutes!" The other man tries to restrict her nails from clawing her skin, which now stings like venom.

Two minutes to get out of here and obtain answers.

Distraught cries blur while snuggling into her ears. She never feels this sick of oxygen. Her lungs are aflame during her stunts. The never-ending scream grazes her trachea.

"No one told us she's epileptic!"

"She isn't! She was healthy before she got in there!"

Their banter is yet to resume itself when Ece's sideway kicks plant on their jaws, and she rips herself off the metal bed, still panting hard.

Unfortunately, she miscalculated one minor fact. She has never gotten engaged in a close-combat and empty-handed battle.

And before a misdirected knuckle flings to her temple, she never anticipates it.

The cramped room is filled with exchanges of wild movements. Both the men and Ece take turns in disarming the other. Their harsh grasps on her scalps are replied with her profound chomps on their wrists.

And how it transforms the cell into a melee wrestling rink.

Tearing herself away from the animalistic battle, Ece speeds past other locked cells. The walls and ceilings are sickening white, while the floor medieval-gray.

The men's dashes thunder in her ears. A pair of young medics race towards her from the opposite, struggling to push their equipment's cart. Bewilderment riddles their faces while noticing their subject is out of her cell and the convulsing state she was reported to experience.

Ece's alert, however, surpasses their awareness.

As expected, several injections intended for her are placed on the top cart. A maroon fluid in each. Benzodiazepines are their names, as stated by the markers.

She doesn't take long before digging its tip to the closest medic's arm. His confusion hasn't dissipated when she hops on the tray, scrambling the items above as she reaches the other medic's arm, particularly aiming the wrist.

How much has she injected into their veins? Enough to put them into an overdose?

The two bulky guards still catch up behind her, their aging faces red with fury.

Thankfully, the floor's flat, with no inclined planes or mounds. It eases her steps as their rhythm bounce off the mute walls.

The end...where is this hallway's end? Is there any end?

She squints her eyes, which is rimmed with exhaustion and madness. The fluorescent lights shed upon a transparent wall, with a sole rectangular shape on its center.

The closer she is to the elevator, the lesser does the air prefers her side. It triggers the pain from her injuries. Overwhelming her lungs with an antiseptic scent. Burns her muscles to their very extent; to the last threads of their defense.

Ece is worn-out.

Her scalp pounds into her skull as she repeatedly slams the three arrows—up, down, and horizontal—to direct the elevator. Flashes of images slide over her watering vision after her actions.

I can't faint now. I'm so close to unveiling the traitor who reported me. I'm so close to hunt Raiden and save my reputation...

"I want all exits closed. We have a Code Silver here."

Ece's heart drops to the floor, of anticipating the elevator's arrival, and the blare of sirens that will soon echo throughout the building, responding to the men's codes.

But there's nothing to be heard. And her legs almost crumble at her piling dread.

Come on, why does it take so long? Ece slaps the buttons, urging the elevator to rush to her level. She nearly kicks the glassy walls before a cold hand grips her shoulder tight, spinning her on her heels.

She meets the dilated eyes of the first security guard.

But before his grip deepens, she has pushed the syringe into his long-sleeved uniform within an instance and knocks him with a skid as he flails with terror.

Ding! The elevator's familiar announcement enters her ears, and scrambling inside, she presses the closing button. The door's about to shut when a pair of arms crawl from the outside, revealing the other bulky guard's fury.

Face him first, then find the floor! Quick!

Using her leg to prevent the guard's arms from entering farther, she repeatedly pushes the closing button. He groans in pain whenever it shuts. "You'll face your payment later, little girl. I've warned you."

"And I'll always escape it, like now." She whispers back as she kicks him with full force.

Her exhaustion washes over once the door's closed. Collapsing on the elevator's wall, with the nearly-empty injection on the floor, she reads the floors' contents. Eighth; Senior Forensics' Laboratories and containment cells.

So she's on the eighth floor too.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she kicks the eight number, and the elevator slides sideways, following the circling track it's on. The monotonous hum of the engine calms her. Pain counters her from directions, threatening to grasp her consciousness.

What will greet her once this door opens? An army of medics, ready to infuse her with benzodiazepines? Or the two guards she attacked?

To her relief, the hallway's empty when it unfolds ahead of her. It looks the same as the previous one, if only there isn't a glassy room on the other side, revealing the people she's been craving to converse with.

Senior Forensic Scientist Hadassah Marisol and her companion, Palchuk Tendros.

I'll paralyze Palchuk with my onyx for Marisol to see. Then I'll force her to give me answers for my queries. If she refuses to, I'll either inject her with the benzodiazepine or let her suffer like Palchuk and those homeless refugees.

However, using the onyx on such a genius scientist can also be its downfall. What if it's publicized? It'll destroy the base of clients she has established.

But she won't ever let that happen.

👣

A/N: Not fully edited yet. If you ever come across an annoying typo, or something you like to point out, do let me know in the comments. Any kinds of feedback are welcomed, thank you. Now I'm at 9.9k out of the supposed 12k, so the end is near :)