Time for crazy, stupid, completely unfun plan C. A plan Howard would never, ever bother to go with if not for the fact that they are on a very, very tight schedule.
He sprints past them. And much to his relief, he finds that despite their longer strides, the fact that they're wearing wedge sandals and he's wearing running shoes nearly evens the pace. He's a fast runner. Not fast enough for comfort.
He slips his arms out of the sleeves of his robe, undoes the Velcro, and stops and ducks in his tracks, letting the guard behind him go plowing into and over him. She and her comrade shriek and he yelps as he skins his knees on the floor and knocks his head on what must be someone's ankle, but he's up again before the fallen one can get her bearings. He throws his robes around the other one's knees as she's turning around. It doesn't quite work as well as action movies would have him believe, but it's such an odd gesture that the guard pauses for just a second. A second's all he needs to stomp on her foot with all his strength, the attack emphasized by the awkwardly-shaped shoe she wears. He whirls around and sprints off again as she grabs for him and misses by half an inch.
Thankfully, free of the robe and back in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, he can move around more freely, and even blends in a bit with the shadowy stone walls. Unfortunately, they're more familiar with the layout of this place than he is, so he knows he can't use the freaky corridors to his advantage. Which leaves one very, very risky, very, very stupid alternative. He climbs up onto the hinges of a pen door, peeks inside, sees nothing immediately, and crawls in through the window.
He's sweating, breathing hard, his ears are ringing, his heart's about to beat out of his chest, his knees are bleeding, and yet thank God thank God, he chose a cell with an herbivore. He heaves a sigh of relief as he tries to figure out what to pick the locks with. The Ankylosaurus in the cell with him stares at him, either perplexed or just stupid.
Re: THE ARENA (2/2)
He sprints past them. And much to his relief, he finds that despite their longer strides, the fact that they're wearing wedge sandals and he's wearing running shoes nearly evens the pace. He's a fast runner. Not fast enough for comfort.
He slips his arms out of the sleeves of his robe, undoes the Velcro, and stops and ducks in his tracks, letting the guard behind him go plowing into and over him. She and her comrade shriek and he yelps as he skins his knees on the floor and knocks his head on what must be someone's ankle, but he's up again before the fallen one can get her bearings. He throws his robes around the other one's knees as she's turning around. It doesn't quite work as well as action movies would have him believe, but it's such an odd gesture that the guard pauses for just a second. A second's all he needs to stomp on her foot with all his strength, the attack emphasized by the awkwardly-shaped shoe she wears. He whirls around and sprints off again as she grabs for him and misses by half an inch.
Thankfully, free of the robe and back in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, he can move around more freely, and even blends in a bit with the shadowy stone walls. Unfortunately, they're more familiar with the layout of this place than he is, so he knows he can't use the freaky corridors to his advantage. Which leaves one very, very risky, very, very stupid alternative. He climbs up onto the hinges of a pen door, peeks inside, sees nothing immediately, and crawls in through the window.
He's sweating, breathing hard, his ears are ringing, his heart's about to beat out of his chest, his knees are bleeding, and yet thank God thank God, he chose a cell with an herbivore. He heaves a sigh of relief as he tries to figure out what to pick the locks with. The Ankylosaurus in the cell with him stares at him, either perplexed or just stupid.