The door slammed open before they could make it out, and Ramona cringed. Rory with Gally in a small, cramped room? Probably not the best combination. 

But it wasn't Rory. The noise came not from a larger, older gentlemen, but from the lithe sleep-deprived man she spoke to earlier.

With her gun, Ramona trained it on his head the moment he made his presence known. The immediate sweep of glee off of Micah's face made her wonder if he'd ever seen the barrel of a gun before.

"Agnes?" He raised his hands up and backed away. "What..."

"I'd leave the room if I were you, Micah," Ramona suggested. She tried to keep her voice level and calm. 

"What is this?"

A loud gulp filled the air. Ramona turned so an eye could be put on Gally, who was looking itchy with discomfort. 

"We're leaving."

"You can't."

Ramona smiled. "Those rules don't apply to me. I don't work here."

Whatever humor that he once had, Micah was completely void of it now. His ability to comprehend was sluggish, and his bent neck swayed back and forth as he tried to come up with his next words.

"But, I don't understand. You came in with Rory."

"Aye."

If this conversation was going to continue at the snail's pace, Ramona wanted to cover some ground. She began to push Gally out with one hand, being careful to control the wheelchair as delicately as possible. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Like I said, we are leaving. It was a pleasure getting to know you. You should probably find a new job." Ramona spoke quickly and levelly, not wanting to indulge more questions. 

Ramona pushed forward but Micah cut them off. Finally, Gally piped up.
"Goodbye, Micah."

"But, I don't understand," Micah repeated. 

Gally eyed Ramona with a pleading gaze, eyebrows knitted in a panicked concern. "Something seems very wrong."

Ramona rolled her eyes. "There's something wrong with him, alright," Ramona said. Micah seemed to have completely strayed from reality at this point.

The man's lanky body shriveled to a bean, shoulders shrugged to his ears. Still there was something dominating about him, pitifully threatening. His bloodshot eyes flickered from Ramona to Gally. 

He looked at Gally as though he were going to unhinge his jaw and swallow him whole. 

"Micah, step away now." Ramona put a hand up and began moving so that she was in front of Gally. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Why?" He shrugged. 

"Why? Why would I want to hurt you?"

"Look where we are." He glanced around the room with wistful, baleful drooping eyes. Slowly becoming bent and old right in front of her. "Who wouldn't want to?" 

Gally's breath shook, and admittedly Ramona wasn't feeling too easy either. "Micah. Back away."

He made no move away. Ramona had to push Gally backwards in order to make room for her to stand between them. 

She couldn't even raise her gun against him this close. Instead she put her arms up. "Micah." 

He lunged around her, his lanky body making its way around her in clumsy but affective movements. Micah began screaming, his hands reaching at Gally's throat. Gally pushed himself away, and Ramona grabbed Micah by the collar and threw him against the wall. 

Just to scare him, she took a shot above his head. He dropped to the ground and put his hands in front of his face. 

"I thought you weren't going to hurt me!" he sobbed. 

Ramona's eyebrows furrowed and she took a step closer, keeping her gun trained on him. Her breath was ragged, but she still felt apprehensive. 

It wasn't like shooting Rory, which she was so damn ready for. Something was wrong with Micah, he'd gone mad. If Ramona could hazard a guess, it was the guilt. It would be if she were in his shoes. 

"I'm not going to kill you." 

"Why not? You might as well, they'll kill me anyway! They're going to kill everyone!"

Ramona glanced back at Gally, who was breathing rough but looked pretty much unscathed. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he shrugged at her in return. He then began making his way to be beside her. 

"My advice, Micah? Start running. Run so they can't catch you."

"You're kidding!"

"No." She raised her gun up to eyesight, peering down at him. "If you know what's best for you, for everyone, you'll know it's best to run away." 

Micah's breath was ragged. The 28 hour shift showed on him, his limbs drooped and his eyes wide and watery. The nervous energy he gave off was full force, the panic getting to her as well. "Why did you do this, Agnes?" 

Ramona stiffened her lip. "My name is not Agnes. And because I can't stand to look at this. I don't understand what kind of monster could."

Micah's eyes glazed at her, glossy and clouded. It swirled over to Gally but couldn't remain focused on him. The heir, however, never stopped staring at him with a look of disappointment and indignation that if directed at Ramona might even make her question herself. Might. 

"Do you forgive me?" 

It was the frightened line of a child, stupid and careless and ridiculous enough that Ramona wanted to just bypass him and continue. Gally, however, was not so aggressive. He blinked at Micah, eyebrows pinched and mouth opening and closing, swallowing repeatedly. Ramona began to push Gally onward, but he put his hand on the wheel. 

"I don't know." 

"I..." Micah put his hands over his ears, looking at the exit. "I should die."

Gally waited for a moment. He pushed himself forward, a vexed look to him. But then he staggered and shook his head. "I -- I don't know. I don't..." Gally's breath became haggard, nerves and confusion causing him to bend forward. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. As Ramona expected, he wouldn't condemn the man. "You should go, Micah." 

It wasn't the answer Micah was looking for. Ramona wasn't sure what the man would become, but he did as the prince asked. Micah turned tail and bolted. He twisted around the unconscious guards and ran like dogs were chasing him. 

Ramona got an answer as soon as she thought it when two gunshots rang out in the hallway. Ramona winced, her toes curling and her body cringing. Gally turned around and looked up at her, then glanced behind her. His breath quaked and his cheeks were flush.  

"What happened?"

A new weight made its way to her shoulders. Something she wasn't sure would be there if it weren't for the moon-eyed prince staring at her as though she'd shot the gun herself. 

"I didn't shoot him," she quipped. Then, shaking her head, realizing that was not what he said, she sighed. "I'm pretty sure Micah's dead." 

And that was when Rory burst through the door. A large bag slung across his shoulder, he looked like he was on a high.

"Why, hello there! You acted faster than I expected. Tragedy about Micah though." He waved and bowed to Gally. "Your highness, it's so good to see you."

Gally's attention moved slowly, his attention making way over his shoulder. His response was to gape at the new company, his breathing a lot more labored. "You work with him?" 

"I'd prefer for me, but yes, you're correct." The curator's grew steely, his smile metallic and cutting. "You're looking worse for wear, but I suppose that is to be expected." 

The way Gally's face contorted, it was the violent reaction of a hatred she didn't even know he was capable of possessing. Rory's answer not sufficient to speak for her, to Ramona's benefit, Gally turned to her. "You work with him?" 

It was one of those moments where Ramona so desperately wanted to say no, but knew she had to say yes. But she knew if it was how she explained herself that would matter most. "He killed my team. So to get this done I was forced to work with him." Her response was scathing and pointed. 

If the prince paid attention earlier, he hopefully would figure out she wanted to shoot Rory where he stood and run. 

"Relax." Ramona made her voice low and dark, just on her breath. Gally nodded, but she imagined he was not convinced. She certainly wouldn't be. "I'm just trying to figure out the best way to get 'im out of here without drawing too much attention."

If she made her demeanor with him notably different, maybe Gally would pick up on the change and not panic. This tactic expected he have a lot of faith in her developed in short time. In actuality, she may just be causing whiplash, or convince him she was insane. 

"I'll clear the way for you."

"Ah, but our prince here is a pacifist." She snickered and kicked the chair forward. "Royal luxuries, I suppose." She then reached behind her and grabbed her gun. 

"Well, soon we'll both be rich like a royal, so maybe then you'll understand darlin'." He then crouched down to face the prince at eye level in his seat. "I think his sensitivities are second to our mission. So perhaps listening to him chat you up shouldn't make you so damn soft." 

She pointed the gun at him. "It'd be good of you to remember that I'm faster than you with the trigger." 

"Stop it," Gally said. Ramona wagged a finger at the prince, but moved to step in front of him. 

"We should get moving." Ramona moved back behind the prince. She turned to face Rory. "I can see you have my things there, care to give 'em to me?"

He took her coat and flung it at her, and Ramona startlingly gripped it with dear life. "You do realize there are weapons in here?"

Swinging his rucksack around and retying it, Rory grinned. "I did." Then the smile dropped. "However, I noticed something of value wasn't. We may have an issue —"

Ramona tucked her hand into her blouse and pulled the crown out of her shirt just enough for him to see. Rory's face grew pink and his eyes glinted red. 

"Didya really think I was going to leave this out in the open?" 

"You cheap little—"

"What?"

Not wanting to go over it now, she dropped the crown back into the sways of her blouse and put her coat back on her, and her holster on her hips.

She gripped Gally's wheelchair handles again. "I'll push you for now, and once we get out of this place, its all yours, your highness." Ramona almost asked him if it was okay, but she kept her mouth shut.

Rory was already transitioning from elated to fuming. Still, a smirk planted itself on his face. The curator glanced down at their bounty, making Ramona do the same. 

Gally looked exhausted and withering. Teetering back and forth with the motions, she wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to handle the stress. 

In fact, Ramona couldn't look at him for long, or else she'd grow bone tired herself. 

They made their way out of the hallway, and as she passed the curator, he sidestepped and tried to take hold of Prince Gresham's chair. 

"I can handle him." 

"No you will not." Gally piped up. Ramona kept her hold firm on the handles. 

"No," Ramona grinned, watching as sparks appeared to be coming out Rory's ears, "you will not." 

Rory glanced all around. He stretched out, the crackling in his bones a stiff and disturbing symphony. After sounding like he broke his own damn neck, he asked, "What did you do with the guards?" 

She almost admitted to drugging them, but pushing Gally around made her catch her tongue. "Knocked them out and locked them in the closet. I imagine that they're going to wake up soon."

"I'll handle them."

This still didn't feel right even hours later, and Ramona was finally starting to understand why. 

He was too clean, but too filthy. Like Gally's room, it just didn't mix. Though Leif was killed on his command, he didn't shoot him. Even if he had, it was unlikely he'd take the blame. 

"Even if pacifism is dead, I do think not killing the entire staff would be in our best interest." 

"Oh, and why is that?" The curator asked. He had a knife's smile and an executioner's eyes. 

"Because as this operation is ran by the new monarchs, I think it would make us an enemy rather quickly." Ramona leaned against Gally's chair, blocking him from Rory by puffing out her chest. "But, you weren't planning on becoming an enemy-of-the-crown yourself, were you?" 

The curator gave her a sideways glare, chiding her before she even got all her words out. 

"Ramona—"

"Oh, I'll admit it took me longer than I'd like, but I am no one's fool." She could feel Gally's hair on the back of her wrists, and knew he had spun to watch her. She brazened herself, making her body an insurmountable and indestructible fortress. 

"You would have dragged him out of this hellhole kicking and screaming — but you needed someone to take your blame."

Ramona kicked up off of Gally's chair and made her way forward. 

"Easy now. We've made no permanent damage yet." 

"I'm about to make some permanent damage," she said. Shooting Rory in the foot, when he growled in pain she punched him in the face and slammed him into the wall. 

Gally let out a cry, extending his arms at Ramona when Rory elbowed her in the ribs. Ramona gripped onto Rory's arm so that even though the man tried to swing her, she could kick out her boot and push Gally away. 

With a twist of his wrist, he let Ramona drop, and then kicked her in the stomach. She bent forward, but managed to make her way back to her feet before his next hit. 

Rory then tried to smack her with his gun, but she caught it and threw it out of the way, then retaliated with her own.

"You stupid bitch!" Rory tried pinning her, but with how many wallops to the head she was giving him, he couldn't keep stable for long. 

"That's really just an insult to you, don't ya think? Being bested by a stupid bitch?" He flared at 'bested', but Ramona grabbed the ropes to his rucksack and tied it around his neck before pulling tight.

She spun him so he was against the wall. Finally, she was able to breathe. 

"Thanks for grabbing my things there," she said. 

Rory pushed on her to get her to stop choking him, but she didn't relent. 

"Ramona!" Gally chastised, but it was no use. Ramona wasn't listening to him now. Blood rushed in her ears and her eyes were intent on the plump face of the man who'd made her last few days a living hell.

"You told me I couldn't kill him, but we can't have him following us either — so what suggestions have you got, huh?" she asked. 

Gally didn't say another word. 

Spinning the ties around one wrist, Ramona worked to tuck her gun away. She gestured for Gally to keep rolling down the hall. Gally hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth. The look Ramona sent him apparently stopped that dead in its tracks, for he faltered, and began pushing himself towards the exit. 

Rory let out a grunt and began swatting at her. He gave her one good push, almost enough to break free, but Ramona thrust her knee forward and pressed her elbow into his chest.

With her free hand, she raised her gun up. Now that Gally was out of the way, she could make this a more lasting threat. 

"C'mon, time to fall down." She had haggard breathing, her arms shaking and body stinging. Rory slapped a few more times on the wrists, but nothing too harsh. 

"Ramona!" Gally yelled. His voice was sharper this time, frightened. She turned and saw lights flashing, and she heard the sound of pipes.  Above her, she heard what sounded like a pipe leak sharp in her ears, a pitch that wasn't quite natural. 

This metallic clanking was suddenly everywhere, ringing and echoing throughout. 

The locks. Pressured locks, they were turning all the locks. Ramona's eyes widened and she let Rory go. 

"Shit, fuck, Gally, go, go, go, go, go!"

He was too busy staring up at the ceiling, watching and listening as pipes banged and ponged down the line. 

She sprinted alongside him and propelled the door open. "When I give a fucking order you fucking do it, you hear me!?"

His blank expression told her that he did not. She groaned and dropped behind him, sprinting, racing against the pinging sounds, ticking down to when they were trapped inside.