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Escape

A 3-post collection

Challenge #02061-E237: Escape the Camp

(Person 1): "What did you get in your care package from home?"

(Person 2, happily): "Military-grade explosives!" -- TheDragonsFlame

The weatherproof box said 'Plasticine' and contained some ridiculously disproportionate cartoon characters on it. Inside were wax-paper wrapped blocks of brightly-coloured stuff that one might expect to be plasticine. But, to a non-casual observer, it wasn't... quite... plasticine.

It was amazing that the guards let it past, to be honest. But then again, Monty and the boys had been spending months on putting the goons to sleep with the sheer monotony of their "good behaviour". They probably didn't even bother looking beyond the wax paper. Just like they didn't know about the maps that came in via playing cards or the more elaborate ones concealed in board games. Or any number of little treasures that they hid in any number of places.

That's what they got for putting "all the bad eggs in one basket." They got the most devious, devilish, and determined escapologists tying up enemy resources. People who could make a pair of wire cutters out of an empty bully beef tin and have three escape plans before the goons finished ushering them into the camp. Bad eggs like them could keep the enemy scrambling for some significant time with this stuff.

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Challenge #01647-D186: Bad Eggs in One Basket

[On the idea of putting two Deathworlders in the one cage you have that you think can hold them]

Yeah, I mean, it's like storing all your plutonium cores in the same spot. Can't hurt right? They'll all be contained in a reinforced area anyways... -- RecklessPrudence

It was the perfect prison. Re-enforced cerametal[1] with smooth, vertical sides. The only way in or out was through a hole in the ceiling. Which was well out of the human's reach.

The human,

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Challenge #01435-C340: Slow Progress

Don't put my ai into something and expect me to be nice to you. -- SeaDragon1012

"Got'cha body," said Gunther, aka call-me-mister-damnit. "Fac'shree sec'nd."

Grammar was still a sticking point. From what she'd seen of the news channels on this planet, a slurring grammar had become normal. Mary let it slide.

"You checked that it was working, right?"

"Yeh, it pass'd full Diag. And it's gotta r'mote thing so y'ull still do the imp'rtant stuff."

Which meant printing him food. Mary had

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