Seitzman's eyebrows perk up. Every inch of her face is menacing from the curl of her lips to the wrinkles across her forehead. Her foot once again departs from the tile floor and stretches towards you. You take flight as well with all the speed your three inch tall figure can summon.
The shadow washes over you with a doom looming just overhead. You dart diagonally left, right, but can't escape. The scuffed, dirt darkened sole descends, pushing you down with a slow, steady drop. You fall onto your stomach and roll over to face absolute darkness. The click of her heel to the tile is deafening, and from somewhere all around you swear you hear Seitzman's cackle.
The light on either side of you is swallowed by the tipping toe. You're pinned under the immense weight above, the pressure growing until your bones crack and blood pools on the floor. The transposer cracks and whines a pitiful death beside you.
***
To Seitzman, the moment was every bit as satisfying as it was torture for her victim. That helpless, futile resistance under her foot. "Oh, that crunch!" Seitzman snickers. She grinds the metal sprinkled mess under her sole with a single twist, then grabs a tissue from the nearby table to clean up. "It's a shame I'll have to wait so long to do that again."
With the evidence carefully disposed of, the data secured and in transit to a team of special engineers, and Professor Montana set back significantly in her research, the race is on to be the first to build the next matter transposer.
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