Late Game Substitute

[Namira]

((continued from What Do We Do Now?))

He was out of time.

Norbert had spent the better part of ten days trying and trying to find any shred of evidence to support his theory about the collars, and had failed every last attempt. All he had to go off was that very first detonation he witnessed from the middle of a crowd of his classmates, back when he could barely focus properly on what was happening.

The explosion hadn't looked that big. It was surely lethal, but not enough of a blast to decapitate.

And that was his problem throughout all this. He needed a better look at what happened. Had the explosion torn... torn through the neck entirely? Had it snapped the spine? How deep were the wounds? Without a closeup, all of that was speculation, and the thought Norbert was mulling over just didn't seem feasible.

Sealant. Building material. By itself there was absolutely no way it was going to insulate an explosion. But the moment he saw it, he started to think. Not by itself, no. In combination with more materials? Maybe. Just maybe. Attempting something like that was obviously an enormous risk. Get caught or get it wrong and he was dead, but get anything wrong here and he was dead. Wouldn't even need to be at the hands of his classmates. Miscalculate travel time or temperature and he was dead too. Better to die trying something than doing nothing.

That was the theory the whole time, and maybe he had a shot. Didn't matter.

After hunting and scouring, Norbert had found neither a good sample of a detonated collar to study, nor sufficient materials to jury rig something together. All he'd managed was to lose his only ally. Trinity had always been so insistent that the announcements were bullshit, but it had named her a killer. Chester. Declared her a prizewinner in fact. And Norbert, well. He'd seen it, hadn't he? Even the sudden explosion over the most announcement hadn't been enough to buoy his spirits and ignite hope. Regardless of whether the kidnappers were distracted or had taken damage, he had no way of taking advantage. He didn't have any tools he felt would be enough to prise off the collar, and there had to be some kind of mechanical failsafe, so he was back to square one.

Well. Square two.

Deep breath in. Slow, slow exhalation.

Deep breath in. Slow exhalation.

Norbert's good leg jittered as he sat in the dining room of a house. The tips of his fingers were dusted black from handling charcoal, which he'd obtained from the small campfire of his previous night. He tapped the can of sealant resting in his pocket with a hollow clunk.

Deep breath in. Slow exhalation.

On the tabletop, Norbert had been busy. He'd made use of a moth-eaten dining cloth propped atop a kettle and two stacks of bowls he'd found in the kitchen in order to set up a tentlike arrangement. Within it, Norbert stacked the meagre remnants of his supplies, not much more than scraps and boiled water at this point.

In front of it, he'd scratched a message on the tabletop.

Help yourself

The f had an extra flourish. From a distance, it would be difficult to read. Especially, Norbert hoped, from the opposite side of a camera. The trailing tail of the f almost looked like an arrow, pointing deeper into the 'tent'.

Deep breath in. Slow exhalation.

If there was no way of finding a specimen collar detonation, Norbert could make one for someone else to find.

The tool Norbert eventually settled on for the job was kind of pathetic. They obviously hadn't left any kind of properly useful items around the place. He wouldn't be doing this if they had. Ultimately, he'd found himself a few different pieces of kitchenware; spatulas, serving spoons, that kind of thing. Then he'd stuck them in a draw to use as a lever, pulling down until they eventually gave way and snapped. It was tough work. A couple of them just bent. A couple wouldn't break. One even shattered entirely. Still, he perservered, and at length, Norbert wound up with a raw metal edge that seemed sharp enough and shaped enough for his purposes.

Deep breath in. Slow exhalation.

Alright. This was it. Time to call one last play.

"HEY! SHITHEADS!" Norbert barked at the nearest camera. Forced a grin onto his face. "What's the matter? Somebody messing with your little game? Sucks to suck!" He rose, pointing a finger. Did it look confident enough? "Just a matter of time 'til you stupid fools go down!" He clenched one hand in the other, cracked his knuckles, swapped, did the other. Picked up his makeshift tool. "Shit, I bet I can bust myself out right here and now!"

Norbert dug the sharp edge directly into one of his collar's seams, jammed it as deep as he could, and then began to prise.

"Hahahahaha! Let's goooooooo—"

The detonation silenced him violently, spraying blood across his carefully-arranged tablecloth.

Norbert remained standing for just a moment, and then fell backwards in one single motion to crash to the floor.

Help yourself

If one happened to follow that little arrow, they would see within the recesses of that tent—now dripping red with Norbert's sacrifice—one extra message.

Hi. check pocket. view collar wound. explosive small. theory: foam + shield material + proper shape to deflect = survive detonate
Coach