Pressure! Pushing down on me, pressing down on you...

The training suite was vast, yet somehow oppressive now the 'open air' of Montana had faded. Solvay rubbed an unfocused eye and peered about. Seymour was telling a non-human someone off, Phil was scrambling to his feet and shaking his head. Plisken – reunited with his metal arm – seemed to be struggling to stand. Alex climbed to his own feet and helped the older man up. He didn't feel especially comfortable making eye contact after the horrific story but he forced himself, giving Plisken a quick sympathetic pat on the shoulder and an awkward tight lipped micro-smile.

“Is this normal of your race?” The non-human, Hachdee, enquired, long fingers sweeping towards FeBuggure.
“Sorry?” Seymour snapped “Look, we don't have time for questions, we have a rather desperate situation in our, er, on our hands...” At this Phil smirked. “... and we need to go and find some medicine.”
The being ignored him. “Your noses.” He was now pointing directly at Phil's groin. “Why do they glow like that?”
“Oi! That is not my nose.”
Hachdee chimed with gentle laughter. “Well, what else would you keep there?”

Without the impending battle to worry about, Alex was acutely aware once more of his own 'nose' aching painfully, and the thought of explaining their predicament to this creature made him feel ill and irritable. He just wanted some freakin' relief.
Still, he was sure that it was nothing a good full-body-contact wrassle with the guys wouldn't help wi- FOR SMEG'S SAKE.
“Ohhkay, I think Seymour's right, it's time we were going.” He slipped into position behind Seymour's chair, too impatient to care about their awkward tension, and whisked him towards the door. “C'mon” he growled at the others.
Phil looked like he was about to start politely explaining what his nose actually was to the TV exec but Phi gave him a look and wheeled him round by the elbow before he could get a word, or anything else, out. The group trudged and rolled towards the exit, leaving Hachdee staring after them.
“Wait! I can't just let you leave... I'll get the sack!”
“That's too bad.” Plisken grumbled “Perhaps you should think of that next time you decide to kidnap people who aren't too keen on the idea.”
“I did NOT kidnap anyone. I merely selected suitable contestants” the producer sniffed. "You should feel honoured to be on the show, you'll be famous."
They ignored him and trundled on but he lolloped over to them. Alex felt his eye twitch.
“Look,” the being snapped “you're not going anywhere. Security won't allow it. We need to keep the ratings up, you funny looking folk are pure screen candy, you might not realise it but you're on a five show contract and-”
“Oh just SOD off.” Alex punched him in the face, causing him to stumble backwards and wilt to the floor in a wimpy faint.
“ALEX!” Phi yelped “That was really horrible. Why would you do that?”
“Because I'm smeggin' frustrated.”
Nobody spoke and he felt a bit mean. He looked guiltily around at the others; Phil was frowning at him, Plisken looked unimpressed, Seymour was gawping, and Phi had her arms crossed in anger.
Alex felt like he should say something. “Sorry” he grunted towards the producer's prone form. Seymour cleared his throat. “Yes, well, let's leave while he's unconscious, shall we?”

They exited the room and found themselves in a long corridor, punctuated by at least eighteen doors.

Alex shoved Seymour along, completely ignoring his babblings about Phil's pushing being smoother and which door they should select.
Phi fell in pace with him. “Hey, Solvay, you're not usually so volatile.” He grunted. She continued. “Things have been a bit hard lately. Is it the pressure? Is it getting to you?” She looked up at him with a kind smile. "That reminds me, I scheduled some further sessions, there's a lot we should probably discuss."
He thought for a moment. “... Yeah. Pressure” he confirmed and unconsciously adjusted his aching trouser region, much to Phi's distaste.
“Oh... right.” She made a face and dropped back to walk with Plisken instead.

One of the doors opened.
“Who's that?” Phil asked. “Look, someone's coming out of that room...”
Two shadows fell across the door.
“Into this door on the left, Mr. Solvay. Quickly! It's bound to be more awful TV executives wanting to thrust us back into the game.”
“'Ang on... I recognise that bulk...”

Jaxx and Davie came into view.
“Oh thank goodness, it's just you two.” Seymour breathed.
“What the heck are you guys doing here?” Said Jaxx, blinking in astonishment.
“Don't look at me.” Said Phil. “Haven't got the foggiest, mate.”
“We were in a simulation. No time for explanations. Have you made any progress?” Plisken asked the MACO.
“Uh, yeah, Davie and I have been loading supplies.”
He turned to Alex who looked even more grouchy than usual. Yeesh.
“... We got cigarettes!” He told him.
Alex offered a tired thumb-up.
Seymour looked beyond the two military types. “And where's Mr. Chrysler?”
Davie hiked his head. “He went to one of the labs to get the medicine.”
“Well let's hope he bally well found it.” Seymour muttered, shifting in his wheelchair, trying unsuccessfully to relieve some of the tension in his underpants.

Just then Jay came pelting down the corridor, eyes and hair wild, a large metal case under his arm. He looked like he'd been in an explosion of some sort, there were black smudges over his face.
They all stared at him dumbly.

“Guys...” he yelled as he chugged towards them.
“What?
He zipped right past.
“RUUUUNNN!”

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