The elevator stuttered and paused, screams coming from above as the topmost section entered the main elevator shaft and crushed several of the inmates who still clung to the side. The cage slowed again, and Sato closed his eyes before he could see the gruesome results. He heard the thumps of bodies on the stone below, and the elevator lurched upward again, regaining its normal speed.

Please, he thought. Please be over, please let me go home.

A wrenching click of steel made his eyes pop open just as the door to the cage slid open with a screech. Renee had somehow broken the latch, squeezing her body against the elevator until she could get it open. She and Sato were alone, having left everyone else below, their wails and cries already dying out with the distance.

“Almost made it, didn’t you?” Renee said, her chest heaving with her deep breaths.

Sato reached down and pulled the plastic cover off the blood-filled syringe, then held it out like a knife. “Stay back,” he said, bending his knees in a crouch. “There’s no way you can win a fight with me.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” she replied. They circled, each staying as far apart from the other as possible in the small cage. “He’s in my head. I’ll do whatever he asks.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sato asked.

“I told you, he’s in my—”

“Not you!” Sato screamed. “Reginald Chu! Why are you doing this!”

“If you have to ask, then you’ll never understand why.”

Renee lunged forward, surprising Sato despite his stance. She crashed into him, slamming his back against the side of the cage. On instinct, Sato stuck the needle into her back. She cried out in pain then lashed out at his face, scraping her nails across his right cheek. Sato pulled out the needle and bent his knees, letting his body fall to the floor, Renee landing on top of him.

They rolled and wrestled, Renee punching and clawing like a panicked bear. Sato had the syringe under her, pointed it at her face, trying to threaten her because he didn’t know what else to do. She grabbed his hand, thrusting the needle away, twisting his wrist so the syringe was heading toward his own skin. He couldn’t believe her strength. He groaned with effort, but she kept winning, pushing the needle closer and closer to the soft skin of his lower neck.

He pushed her away with a final burst of exertion; she surprised him by pulling back instead of fighting it. Caught off guard, his grip on the syringe slipped and Renee yanked it free. She twisted backward and pressed the point of the needle against his leg.