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The time after the protests and fires had been unkind to Hally.  She’d found a place to stay and even had a lead on her lost pets, but she had mostly found herself too depressed to really do much beyond drink her problems away until the next morning.  Her talk with that witch Hienrichs hadn’t helped matters either.

She had gone on another binge Tuesday that had left her stumbling towards her temporary home, gripping the side of the wall to stand straight and was oblivious to the intimidating figure stalking her.  She never even felt the first blow to the back of her head until she was already floored.  She scrambled to get up, to fight, but several harder strikes landed against her head before she crumpled uselessly into the wet, melting snow.  

When she finally came to she was crunched uncomfortably in a box, hungover and freezing, and she could feel the floor beneath her swaying slightly.  The motion had apparently made her sick in the night and now the box positively reeked.  It was just as well that there was some ventilation from a few small holes in the wood.  

She rubbed her aching head apprehensively and cursed herself.  Not only was she missing her favorite hat, but it felt like the time she’d been struck with a pipe and the swelling was just as bad.  She cursed herself softly, she’d been warned about Moreau disappearing and it appeared she was the latest victim.

She tried to call out out for help, or just to get the attention of her captors, but no one came or answered her.  If anyone was listening it was whoever had taken her in the first place.  She checked for her gun, but wasn’t surprised that it and her knives were gone.

She grimaced, regretting only that she couldn’t wait until her prison was opened to shoot her captor.  It was probably just as well, she wasn’t sure where she was being held and her captor could have automatons as backup.  

She tested the lid with her back, trying to stand up, but it wouldn’t give even a little.  Not deterred she pushed down with all her might as she pressed her back against the lid.  As she struggled she couldn’t help but think this was the second time she’d drunk herself into trouble, after she got out of this she was going to stick to opium!  After all, she thought as she struggled to use her weight to push up on the sealed crate, I’ve never gotten into a mess like this asleep on a bed!

She struggled for ten minutes, long after it started to hurt and she was out of breath, but she couldn’t budge the lid of her tiny prison.  Sighing, she resigned to save her strength until her captors let her out.

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