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Under the Gun... — Description
TK craned her eyes over toward the knife again, with a low growl. It would have to be her salvation she knew...though getting to it was going to be anything but easy. Moving at all in this hogtie was proving to be quite difficult, to say the least. The tiger-girl would have much preferred to simply roll and buck her way off the "targeting pad", but that just wasn't an option. Doc Sadarus had warned her that those "lenses" around the perimeter of the circle were trigger-sensors; and had made a demonstration of it, using a large melon. What the gun-like device had done to that melon when the Doc had swiped his arm over the sensor-triggers had been...horrible, to say the least. And then Morgus had cleaned up the mess and placed TK in the ruined fruit's place...to suffer the same fate when the timer on the machine ran down.

TK's head inevitably flicked back over toward the control panel for the deadly device, her emerald eyes focusing through the lingering drug-haze to see how much time she had to escape this fiendishly-sadistic trap. She hated those taunting, maddening countdown timers that the wicked Doctor seemed so fond of putting on his "timed" deathtraps... She knew, of course, that their whole purpose was to drive her mad, menace her with the merciless, unflinching approach of her intended doom. But TK also knew that, to her, it didn't really matter how much time she had left anyway. It would be enough or it wouldn't...and she wasn't going to fight one tiny bit less hard whether she had five seconds or five hours remaining. And with that in mind, she turned her attention back to where it should be: The knife with which Morgus had so gloatingly provided her. So close, so far...so much her only real hope of getting away in time.

With another tape-stifled growl, TK tensed her muscles and began rocking from side to side, see-sawing her hands and feet as she did so. Trying to build up enough momentum to roll herself over onto her side - without breaking the border of her suddenly small-seeming target-prison - so she could make for the knife. Muscles cramped and sore from the time she'd apparently spent in the hogtied position while she was unconscious protested the abrupt call to action. But the doughty tigress pushed the discomfort aside and focused on the battle. While the timer ticked down silently, blindly beside her, and the gun continued that slow, whining, charge-up hum that sent a shiver down TK's spine...