Golfball was working in her office, located in the laboratory halls of her underground factory.
The Power of Two had been cut short.
Something about illegal possession issues.. She didn't know. TB was better at that sort of thing.
Right. She was the mathematics and science nerd, Tennisball was the logician and physicist nerd while still having a bit of knowledge on that sort of field.
Golfball tiredly typed down notes on some experiment on Yoyleite.
The stones solid form was purple, with twinges of a metallic gold embedded in it. An.. exceptionally rare specimen of mineral.
Golfball sighed and pushed her spinny chair away from her desk, staring at the ceiling, then the clock.
The shorter hand on the '10', and the longer hand on the '6'.
She stared at the laboratory hallways.
The blank white halls filled her with a sense of coldness. An image of blood splattered against the walls of the hallways appeared in her mind. But there was really nothing there.
She felt like the light reflections on the glass of the seven empty containment rooms were staring back at her.
Nothing was there.
She grumbled and turned back to the computer she was writing data on, saved it, and booted it down.
Golfball looked back to the empty containment rooms.
An idea struck her like a headache.
Experiment 59: Panic Room. Psychological experiment. Requires a minimum of ten fully sentient subjects and assistant.
...
The idea is to condemn subjects to rooms. Blank white rooms. Document all statistics of sanity, sanity declines, traumatic stress, eating patterns, and activity in confinement.
... NO. That's immoral and psychotic. She couldn't do that. Bad intrusive thoughts, bad.
...
She'd only need ten people.
STOP.
Tennisball can be easily manipulated and guilt tripped, I'm sure he'd agree to being an assistant.
GOLFBALL, YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS.
Yeah, I'm better than this.
... The data. The research. Imagine it.
No.. nononono-
"Golfball?"
She whipped around. She realized she was now on the floor, trembling, with her legs tucked to her chest. It was Tennisball who had just called her name. He worriedly walked over to her and sat down.
"A-Are you okay?" Tennisball asked worriedly. Golfball calmed down a bit.
"Yeah, just.."
Ask him.
"If I were to conduct an extremely illegal psychological experiment that involves trapping our friends in solitary confinement permanently, would you join me?"
Golfball.. didn't mean to say that. Tennisball stared at her in concern, but not anger or disappointment.
"Maybe.. you should get some rest. It's past midnight." He helped her up, but Golfball immediately walked back to her desk chair. "Nuh uh." She argued.
"Golfy.." He grumbled. Tennisball suddenly scooped her up and begun to carry her to the Are You Okay team quarters. She tried to protest, but she couldn't bring herself to fight with him.
The door creaked open. Eraser was snoring loudly, TV was on sleep mode against a wall, everyone else was nowhere to be seen. Which was usual. Golfball just sighed and climbed into her bunk, which was directly across from TB's.
"Night, Tennisball."
"Night, Golfy."
—
10/24/23
hey againn!! zorry this chapter is zhort, i SUCK at introducing stories.
this will be probably the mozt interezting au i'll make, zo tighten your zocks >:]
(apologies for the abundance of 'z's in my zentences, zilly little typing habit i gained 💔💔)
YOU ARE READING
PANIC ROOM
FanfictionThe Power of Two had been cut short. Nobody dare tried to figure out why, but it ended. Two had disappeared with it. Meanwhile, Golfball is working in her lab. ... She has an idea. TW -- Gore, dissociation, death, alcohol use- I think you get it. N...
