The Typist hesitantly wriggled her bare toes under the rug, almost immediately recoiling in disgust. This one was noticeably damp, and upon closer inspection, spotted with mold. She inhaled a shaky breath of stale air, and then plunged back in. The underside of the rug clung to her skin, cold and oily, but she had to go further. Reaching as far as she could stretch from her chains, the typist thought for a moment that she would find nothing-- and then, finally, the bottom of her foot brushed up against something small, something metal. Her heart leaping in her chest, she frantically grasped at it, grabbing hold of its rounded edge with her toes. She started to pull it out, ever so carefully, when she became aware of an alarming sensation: 

[i]Something was moving.[/i]

The typist yanked her foot back, but not before six swift legs scaled her ankle, and dashed up her leg. She flung the roach off in one violent jerk, and five more flooded out from under the rug, disappearing into the shadowy corners of the room. The sound of their chitinous legs scuttling atop the rugs rang cacophonously in her aching head, and her breaths were wheezing out between tightly clenched teeth. But she had the key.

Suddenly aware of the men in her company staring, the typist shuddered and feebly announced, "I found a key." Eager to be free of her chains, she wasted no time in reaffirming her grip on it, and slowly lifted her foot up to her cuffed hands. All those years at the office in front of a keyboard had not made her more flexible, and the muscles in her thigh bitterly protested as she stretched her leg up over her head-- but after a few moments of awkward maneuvering, she could just barely grasp the end of the rusted key. She angled it in the direction of the padlock, her wrist bent uncomfortably but her hand steady and firm, and with a twist and a soft click, the cuffs clattered to the ground. 

The newly freed woman took a moment to rub her sore, tingling wrists, before turning to the old man next to her. She felt a pang of pity at his feeble escape attempt earlier, and hoped that all of their locks were the same. She approached the old man's cuffs with the rusty key.

>Assist