Slick, Sick, Trapped in heat.

Leo/Ryn

The iron door slammed shut behind him with a boom that echoed like thunder.

"Please," he rasped, his palms pressed flat against the reinforced vault door, cheek resting on the metal. "Wait—no!"

Ryn twisted around, his eyes wide, wrists bruised from the chain around his wrist.

"I didn't do anything! I'm not—" he yelled, but the sound of the bolt sliding into place cut him off.

"No—wait! I'm innocent!" he shouted, running to the door. He banged his fists against it.

"You can't just—LET ME OUT!"

Nothing.

No response came.

The vault was pitch black. There were no torches, no window, no moonlight.

Just darkness.

His palms scraped against the cold steel of the vault door, already slick with sweat.

"Please..." he rasped. "Please, I didn't mean to—" He coughed hard as his hand flew to his throat.

It burned dry and was hot like smoke.